a little taste [cowt11 | week 04 | m1]

Prompt: Avarizia

Word count: 1050
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Originale
Note: //

---

 

Gods wish for nothing, neither own anything.

The Underworld has always been depicted as a dark, cold, terrible place for a soul to end up in. As much as death was a part of life itself, everyone -- people, heroes, creatures and gods alike -- could not accept it as such.

His job was supposed to be taking care of the eternal souls of the mortals that ended up in his realm, sooner or later, but after eons of doing exactly the same thing over and over again, it was natural to become bored with the task. Yet, the Ruler of the Underworld could not just stop doing his job: as fun as it would be, to watch the mortal realm become filled with angry spirits, weeping spirits, vengeful spirits, it would reflect badly on his otherwise perfect composure.

And yet, the Lord of Hades could not find peace. Even if he had the delightful company of his rowdy companions, he always felt like missing something important. He had always… wished for something more. Something whose nature was still missing, eluding him like the last vestiges of a dream.

As he sat on his throne, overseeing the endless flow of souls that were sent over by Thanatos invisible hands, he let his mind venture to analyze his current situation. Was he unsatisfied with his task? Not really, his job was an easy one, albeit boring. Did he regret choosing to serve as a guardian over the dead? A soul was a soul, no matter if it was held in by the flesh. And a god as he was, he clearly didn’t show any favoritism.

After all, what was the difference between being alive and being dead to the divine?

He left such semantics to the little, mortal fellow that spiraled down into the core and into the oblivion, waiting for being reincarnated. Why they bothered, honestly, he didn’t even know.

Such was his life. Such has always been…

Until one specific moment, just one instant in the eternal flow of time that passed before his eyes, an insignificant something caught his attention. At the beginning of it all, the Lord had just dismissed it as a little past time to fight the utter boredom of his job: a curious, little wandering soul, shining a tad weirdly. Long fingers dipped in the spiritual flow of souls and fished it up to get a closer look.

It had been a very old soul, that one. Definitely a rare one, even in the eyes of someone like himself. 

Souls were usually wiped clean in his realm before being sent back in the world of the living, to make a fresh new start. However, all of them began losing their natural shine after being in the cycle of life and death for so long--thus, such a soul whose light hadn’t dimmed despite its age… kind of intrigued him.

Again, he thought at it being just a way to fight off boredom. Yet, he still kept that same soul at his side, allowing it to take its once human shape. In the realms beyond “form” was an unneeded concept, per se; nonetheless, imagination and old habits often created “images” of what once had been.

In the soul’s case, beautiful waves that held the colors of autumn framed a pallid face, lovely and oval shaped, enriched by delicate features and tantalizing, soft-looking lips. The ruler had long passed the time where he felt any kind of attraction beyond the aesthetic, and yet… the figure brought before his eyes by Fate itself, could only be called divine. 

Even as the creature simply stared in his general direction with unfocused eyes, two breathtaking jewels shining like emeralds, the Lord couldn’t look away.

He didn’t realize on the spot, but that was the exact moment things had changed. A minuscule part of him had instantly grown infatuated with the sight, an even smaller part in that nameless need feeling oddly fulfilled.

Gods wish for nothing, neither own anything.

The Underworld has always been depicted as a dark, cold, terrible place for a soul to end up in. Yet, over the uncountable decades, centuries, ever since one particular moment, it became an actual hell for anyone and everyone passing by it. Or better said, entering the realm of the dead and being unable to leave.

Many of the other mightier gods couldn’t understand what brought their fellow god to such a strong, unexpected behavior. Each soul he welcomed was robbed of something -- its “shine”, as one could say, meaning the drive to live a fulfilling life, to follow their passions and to look forward to a bright future. Others might even call it life itself, or potential. That same something being then locked away, in some treasure hoarding, mortal fashion that the divine should have never considered in the slightest.

Yet, the Lord of Hades himself had done so. One fragment of time after the other, he began wishing for more, greeding for something that should have never been his in the first place, steadfast and unrepentant. 

When the mightier deities descended into the Underworld, the whole place thrummed with unknown energy -- dare one say, a lively energy -- that transpired from each and every fragment of space. They clearly felt it, the abnormality in that place, and in equal part grew slightly intoxicated by the feeling of lightness that came with it in each breath they took.

“My dearest siblings, isn’t it wonderful? To just let go of that pompous strictness and partake in a feast like this?” the Underworld Lord had asked them all, greeting each and every figure with a sneer that delivered a deeper meaning than his words. 

Hoarding souls’ possibilities, favors. Their destiny itself, if one so wished to call it. 

Those laid in crystallized forms in a realm where they didn’t belong, where “concepts” and “forms” shouldn’t exist, like shining jewels in the treasure room of mortal royalty. No matter how many of those he managed to collect over the centuries, it never felt enough. He needed more, more ancient souls that still held the same powerful energy and beauty that made his eternal heartache lessen.

Because sometimes, one simple taste of temptation is already too much. 

fortune blesses the worthy [cowt11 | week 04 | m4]

Prompt: A short stranger will soon enter your life with blessings to share.

Word count: 300
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen
Note: //

---

 

Of all things one Gojou Satoru would say he'd be doing in his life, visiting a fortune teller booth in the lunapark was totally not one of those. Given, of course, that he didn't have anything against those, for sure he wouldn't be there if it hadn't been for a job.

 

A sighting of cursed entities all around the place, especially the haunted house and the house of mirrors -- a quick work for him, who'd been not only in the area after another job, but also available to clean up that little mess.

So, how did he end up sitting for a few minutes with a fortune teller? Simply, because he'd taken a little detour and got curious (a whim, really)... and because he was looking for the candy booth in the first place.

"A short stranger will soon enter your life with blessings to share."

That had been the fortune given to him, which honestly didn't make sense to him: in the almost thirty years he had under his belt, Gojou Satoru was already entitled as the honored one, the child blessed with the Six Eyes and the Infinity cursed techniques. As much as his power also held responsibilities, he thought there were very little blessings he could've asked for and that were still missing from his life.

Still, a small part of him had grown interested in seeing what his supposed fate had in store for him and, most importantly, when and where the supposed blessings waiting for him would actually show up.

He supposedly didn't have to wait for much longer, luckily for him.

(of all things one Gojou Satoru would say he'd be prepared for in his life, one Itadori Yuuji completely wiped out the competition)

gojou satoru is a menace [cowt11 | week 04 | m5]

Prompt: Lunapark

Word count: 200
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen
Note: //

---

 

Gojou Satoru is a menace. That much, Megumi is sure of.

He doesn't know what took possession of their teacher, but since the first time the first years met and began working together, the white haired man had had a tendency to drag them around. Be it to restaurants, or haunted places, or (such as this odd case) a lunapark. He calls it "building friendship and comradeship". Megumi suspects it being an excuse to take a break from work and actually go eating delicacies and sweets.

Not that he didn't care about them -- Satoru had been one of the most caring people he'd met, even if he showed in a basically out-of-the-world way. It is both endearing and aggravating.

Still, Megumi is NOT sure what to think about the man when he suggests using his cursed technique to grant himself victory in the shooting booth. And all because he had decided that the dog plushie was meant for him, since it reminded him of White and Black Jade Dogs. 

 

Megumi wanted to bash Yuuji's and Nobara's skulls for not stopping him -- and as usual, he had to be the voice of reason. God damn it.

lunapark mascot [cowt11 | week 04 | m5]

Prompt: Lunapark

Word count: 100
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen
Note: //

---

 

Places full of people were annoying, to some extent.

For a person (?) like Panda, who had some difficulties in understanding how humans worked at times, being surrounded by them in large numbers and variety could prove to be a… challenging. 

The idiot blindfold, as Maki dubbed him, had brought them all at the lunapark for some god forsaken reason, wishing them all to have fun before disappearing from sight. A classic, really, but still. 

 

"Why did it come to this?" the cursed corpse asked himself, settling down on the ground... Surrounded by children who thought he was the lunapark mascot.

at first sight [cowt11 | week 04 | m6]

Prompt: Labirinto

Word count: 1480
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Originale
Note: Such a great start in a relationship, lmao.

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The existence of the Temple of the Four Seasons had been considered a mere rumor by most of the people. 

The legend speaking of blessed people able to influence the world’s weather had been passed down from one generation to another as a child’s bedtime story, even if the physical place actually existed and was free to visit for anyone wishing to see it.

It wasn’t as if the building had been hidden away under a veil of thick fog, nor at the end of an endless maze made of high, thorny bushes or a forest filled with tricks and traps. Not anymore, at least. The lingering magic that permeated the now peaceful greenery surrounding the high walls was purely an extension of the power of the Sacred Children. 

That was the name of those who showed the gift of nature and lived there, nurtured by the careful guidance of the High Priest.

What was their purpose, one may ask? Possibly provide wise guidance themselves, “become someone who could bless the world, the same way the world blessed them”.

Cassandra stared at the old pages of the tome the Priest had given her some hours before. The gold-tinted-orange of her eyes skimmed through lines boredly, not really interested in what the book had to say (it would be nothing more than what the teachers had already explained during the lessons, that’s what she thought). A sigh escaped her lips, followed by a muffled groan as she rested her forehead on the inked pages.

She kind of -- kind of -- regretted playing that prank on the High Priest, earlier that day. It had been a really harmless prank, honest, but… somehow the Temple’s first devout didn’t take well seeing his well-prepared speech being blown away by a calculated gust of wind and scattered all over the gardens.

It had taken two hours before she managed to gather each and every page back.

“If you didn’t want to put up with this, you shouldn’t have done that in the first place.” he had begun, before throwing himself in a long and detailed speech as to why she should respect the Temple’s rules and why it would be the best to behave like a Sacred Maiden already.

Seriously, the man always talked -- and wrote -- too much.

The only positive thing about that whole mess had been that she finally managed to spend some time outside, instead of holed up in her room or in the library. Even if she ended up in the latter anyway.

Turning her head to the side, her chin scraped softly on the old pages (she hoped it wouldn’t leave stains on her face, thank you very much) and another sigh left her parted lips. She wanted… wanted to play outside, spend time feeling the breeze on her skin, her light dress fluttering around as she walked under the afternoon sun. If she gave in to the temptation, she’d surely end up in more trouble.

… That is, if the High Priest found out.

A grin slipped on her face, plastering itself there for the time being, as she bolted out of the room.

Like many other times, Cassandra ran excitedly towards the gardens. 

That was her absolute favorite place, the one where she could really breath in the freedom she wished for. In the centre of the large gardens was the ancient willow tree, settled at the centre of a circular pool, right where the two main paths crossed. 

To get there, one should find the way in a little maze -- high rose bushes marked the way, creating a sort of labyrinth one could get lost in. It created a series of circles around the fountain, only interrupted by high arches meant for allowing the passage between one “ring” and the other. All around the area, soft grass reigned over the ground and common flowers created colorful spots in contrast to that sea of green.

For someone as used to navigating it as she was, the maze was as simple as a memory game. Once you found the way once, you just had to memorize every turn and repeat it in your mind, times and times over, until you could walk around it with your eyes closed. That was what the young girl did and the way she literally never got lost in such a place.

Surely, the winds would have never let her get lost in nature… even if such was her wish. Of all the people inhabiting the Temple, Cassandra was possibly the most prone to action and exploration. “Getting lost” in a place she adored sounded more like a promise than a menace, actually. No matter how many times the High Priest or the other acolytes tried to tell otherwise.

Such old and boring people, they were.

Discarding her flat-laced shoes, Cassandra leapt over the small railings bordering the meadow and sighed, smiling affectionately at the feeling of grass under her feet. It was one of the best sensations ever. Before she could even register what she was doing, her whole body moved with the wind blowing in the gardens.

Step, step, spin. Raise one arm, bring it down in an arch. Foot forward, bow down and touch the ground. Raise, listen to the wind and begin once again.

It was difficult, always difficult, to describe what overtook her in those moments: it felt like the weather shifted according to her wishes, inviting her to dance and be happy -- happier than she was before and more, more, more. In the tranquility of that blessed space, the young girl could freely be herself without a care in the world… no prying eyes looking at her, or judging her lack of “proper attitude”. 

Who cared about that, when nature sounded just so happy with her enjoying herself?

Countless minutes passed, Cassandra lost in her own world with her eyes closed and a strong faith that the wind would not guide her to harm -- it had never done so, and the girl strongly believed that it never would. She knew the place like the back of her own hand, too, but her trust in the elements never faltered once in her life.

Her next spin, gently accompanied by a chiming breeze, guided right into something -- or rather, someone.

Cassandra nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt a hand grabbing her own, pulling her around and almost making her stumble, her rhythm interrupted rather brusquely. Luckily, a steady arm slid around her waist to keep her from embarrassing herself by falling down on the soft grass.

Sunset eyes shot open, looking ahead feverishly -- only to lock eyes with a burning stare, vivid and intense in a pair of crimson colored orbs, looking straight at her. A young man stood before her a good head taller, successfully towering over her smaller frame. 

“You…” 

Cassandra didn’t have time to wonder about his appearance more than a second or two, as the grip on her form tightened, making her flush against the other’s body. She felt her heart leap in her throat as the golden haired stranger muttered a few words to her, with such emotion and reverie that it left her almost breathless.

“Be my wife.”

A gasp left her mouth, drowned by another pair of lips on her own, sealing them for good. Whatever answer she might have had died right there and then, suffocated by the gesture. The blessed one felt her mind shut down for sure with that, while heat crawled up on her neck, face and ears -- she despised her body for reacting in such a way, betraying her deep embarrassment.

Who was this man? Who had the audacity to come to the Temple (and her not-really-private piece of Heaven) and make such ridiculous demands?

Annoyance crept up to her spine, making her nerves twitch in reaction. The one of her hands that was not held captive in the young man's flew up to his face, her palm flattening on his temple with a rather satisfying "smack". He had to obviously turn his head and lean back when she went straight for his eyes, polished nails scraping the skin of his right cheek instead of their initial target.

Despite her mind being all jumbled up because of the odd situation, the young woman managed to get free from the other's hold on her second try. Taking a few steps back, her eyes pierced the "offender"'s form -- she never met a noble before, but everything in his appearance screamed about his lineage. 

... She tried to gauge a noble's eyes out. Oh well, she had been totally justified (she hoped so, at least).

"What's happening? You're supposed to say something now."

Oh, she would say something. 

“Begone from my place!”