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#17 more bad endings

cestacruz · 2 months

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In F/SR, Chiemon was the victim of the Shimabara Rebellion, his family and his village all died because They were christians

He doesn't ever stop being religious, he still prays to God, even if he has given up everything else

He has no hopes of going to Heaven, so what he wants is to see that Hell he lived again

Because that's what he believes that he deserves

And yet, at the end of the day, the only thing Chiemon wants was to be saved (from the DLC 1, Lancer's Team ending, he prays at (possibly) his mother's grave)

But he can't allow himself that because he doesn't even believe he should have survived at all

Why only him

His mother, his father, all of them killed

And he was the only one who survived

Left in that hell

And then you have Lancer

He prayed her summoning, he started the chant as a prayer

Jeanne, who gave her life to save everyone

Who was fine with being killed because she had saved her country

They are opposites and they are one and the same

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kelbunny · 5 months

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I feel more people within the tristrat fandom need to understand that Roland's chapter 17 decision is not bc he actually believes Hyzante is correct but because he's gotten to such a point of desperation where he sees that as the only option left.

Like, his main motivation does not change, and it's the reason why he's the one that represents Morality. Because that motivation has always been to protect and make better the lives of as many people as possible, and this is clear in basically every decision of his aside from maybe when deciding to reveal his identity to Svarog or not. Even his chapter 17 decision is out of a desire to help people, it's just no longer as noble when you're not part of the few being sacrificed for the many.

And it's why he willingly renounces his 17 decision in all other endings and admits to his own cowardice.

#Also I feel more people need to remember that the Morality Utility and Liberty endings are BAD ENDINGS #And the only good ending is the golden ending #Also the fact people act like Roland is the one being hypocritical during chapter 17 #He's not! All three of them are are :D #And just like with Benedict his ending is him becoming the worst version of himself #Don't get me wrong though #There's no saving utility ending Roland #And I would gladly beat utility Roland to death with a steel chair #But I see so many takes that feel like people just completely throw out and ignore all of Rolands characterization once they hit chapter 17 #Triangle strategy #triangle strategy spoilers #Roland glenbrook #Kelbunn's rambles #Roland is not as horrible of a person as some people make him out to be #Unless it's Utility Roland

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kyokkou · 1 year

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💗 for kiku!!

moodboard meme | accepting! :)

💗 for a moodboard about another significant relationship in my muse’s life

I’ve become a ghost, and I’m going to see The way the summer ends

I’ve become a ghost, and tomorrow I’ll go to see you, far away where you are And I’m going to see places from my past The beach in a distant town, the shopping stalls I saw as a child

"Why does the scent of the rain make me feel nostalgic? Why does my heart clamor as summer approaches?”

Touching your cheeks and staring into your eyes, I murmured a lie

More than that snow, more than those clouds A clear white lie, "We'll meet again, right?"

“I just want to close my eyes in the scent of summer, And sketch out the height of the clouds with my fingers. Is it selfish to just want to relive memories?

Is it selfish if I just want to know you?"

Kiku and Rena; 1945 - 1955 - 2019 | lyrics from Yorushika "Kumo to Yuurei" + "Hitchcock" and Kagrra, "Shiroi Uso."

How do I explain "she keeps reincarnating every other generation because she is tied to them whether she likes it or not (and she does like it) and maybe they dated during one of those times (the demon jail™ days) and now he's an overprotective guardian" ??? Like this, I guess!

#heroyam #✺ 「そんな風にも考えていたの。」 || answers;#[ i had so much fun doing this ty for sending it in ]#[ lately i am obsessed with her ]#[ so of course i chose this :') ]#[ and it's more lighthearted than the way this same time span was for hikaru ]#[ i can't get into much more than ''bad end'' for why she ended up with him in demon jail LMFAO ]#[ when she was 27 she was caring for him at The End and now she's 17 with a guard dog. i uno reversed it for this iteration of her life. ]#[ beta post editor both fucked my formatting up (fixed it) and now the colors aren’t showing up. functioning website. :) ]

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fabulouslygaybean · 1 year

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maybe it's just cus i grew up with close family that were significantly older than me (older siblings who are 14+ years older than me, cousins triple my age, etc), but y'all really need to step back and realize that viewing any/all casual or friendly interactions between teens and adults as unsafe or predatory doesn't help anyone. it's one thing to have a preference for who you personally interact with (especially if you're 18+ and have an explicit blog/account/whatever), but acting like nobody should interact with anyone outside their age group both in person and offline is incredibly stupid.

#you end up with kids/teens that are paranoid that everyone over the age of 18 is out to get them #and adults with such a disconnect from youth that they end up acting like everyone UNDER the age of 18 is a problem #also. most teens can handle more than y'all think. seriously. an adult telling a slightly inappropriate joke to a 17 year old won't -#- fuckin traumatize them. sure teenagers aren't adults but we're not small children either. y'all infantilize us so fucking bad and it -#- helps exactly no one.#anyways. intergenerational friendships are GOOD and can absolutely be healthy. sure there needs to be responsibility taken to make sure -#- that things don't get outta line but that's with ANY friendship. having to be a little more careful doesn't mean that those friendships -#- should never exist or that their existence is inherently harmful.#i know this is very out of the blue but i keep seeing incredibly stupid takes on my dash

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radioromantic-moved · 2 years

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on the one hand the main character of‏‏‎ ‎exocolonist sort of Exists to be projected on and it's a little weird to make a self insert to do things you can just do in the game as the mc? but on the other hand the mc has a set character design as a poc and even though it's set in the far future in a universe where race-based oppression doesn't really exist it would still be weird and oversteppy for me to literally just say "yeah this character is me" considering that. i guess they could still exist and i could be like. their adopted sibling or something. because i really want the in-game parents to be my parents they're kind of my everything. desperately trying to save them in the time loops and naming the save file where i finally succeeded "i love u mom" did a little something to me. the mc is the only character aware they're in a time loop and remembers details from past lives and it would be so funny if i just showed up in one of them for the first time and they're like. what the fuck???? who is this??? idk how much longer i'll be obsessed with this game after i get the golden ending but if i make tangent art i at least want to pin some details down.

#literally last run i became besties with the‏‏‎ ‎gross alien weirdo #because you have to for the best ending #and then i learned an event Has to happen when you're 17 that didn't happen for me #so i befriended him for no fucking reason. SUCKS #i think i genuinely might hate him more than vace. because at least you can make vace somewhat of a better person #but the game just decides that everything this guy does is actually excusable #literally his very existence is twilight‏‏‎ ‎brainrot.#WHY did they make him romanceable they literally could have just not #sorry i'll shut up he just gives me the ick. so bad.#i need to stop bringing him up on every post #he's just like. the biggest weak point of the game in my opinion #nyx on comms

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snallavanta · 1 year

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i have a music video idea of this based on this snippet. i know it's not gonna happen but a girl can dream.

anyway, in the beginning during omar's verse, is this clip above being played. he's a bit more down and sad and he seems lost as he goes through the snow.

then we have claudia's verse. and it'll be similar shots (so kind of like a mirroring view & a parallel to omar's shots) and it'll also be a similar concept.

these two people are so bummed/ annoyed/ sad that the relationships they've been into have all turned out shitty, where the other party played with their feelings or wasn't serious about their relationship when they've put in their all into their exes.

then at the end when both of them sing together, we have these two lost souls bumping into each other (in the middle of an empty snowy forest btw so it's INSANELY coincidental) and then it's implied that they have this special connection with one another

#omar rudberg #claudia neuser #obviously we don't have to ship them because a 24 year old and a 17 year old is kinda creepy #but i think it's a really cool concept that matches the vibes and lyrics of the song #i also have a more in-depth idea of the ending #so to close the video omar & claudia reach out to each other to hold hands and the camera pans upward to the sky #then omar & claudia look up to the sky in a hopeful way that maybe their future partners won't be so bad after all #UPDATE! another idea for the ending to make it more platonic would be that shot in the snippet of omar running & spinning around #but instead of it being just him it'll be him & claudia together

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wireddless · 6 months

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Addict

pairing: Coriolanus Snow/Reader

cw: 17+ hate. fucking. dubcon, possessive behavior, corio is emotionally abusive, vaguely implied Plinth reader, p in v, unprotected sex, nsfw below the cut,

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i just know hes so hung you guys i want him so bad

Living in the shadow of Lucy Gray was never an easy feat. That’s all she was after the erasure; a shadow, soon to be only a whisper on the sleeping breath of Coriolanus. The closest he could ever feel to real love was with the District 12 songbird, and had she been more than just a district animal, a member of the Capitol, there was no doubt in your mind he would have married her instead.

Your days at the academy, a few years his inferior, were spent in the naive mindset that he was fully capable of love. However, the only true love he would ever feel was towards the power in his cold-handed grasp. After your graduation, you continued living with your family, their prized figurehead of poise and beauty, until they managed to propose your hand to him, only a year or so before he became president.

Coriolanus, living on top of his family’s hidden debt and poverty, accepted nearly immediately, driven by the thought of the millions that came with your name. Your family, so charmed by the icy man, was manipulated into paying for the lavish ceremony. A Capitol wedding was a spectacle to behold, a sea of colored heads and garments, textiles in unique patterns decorating the spectators in a myriad of colors. An insipid eye-sore, in his opinion.

And there you were, the pale lavender of your dress cascading down your body like the drapes that covered a window in a lonely mansion, baby fat gone. The bright light in your eyes that has now long-since faded, the happy expression you held, truly believing the facade he had put on to convince your family that he was a perfect match, it all fueled a fire of satisfaction in his psyche. He remembered the young girl from their studious days, the sneaky glances shot his way from a face framed by baby fat, it was so easy to take advantage of a schoolgirl crush, to charm his way right into your heart. He’d never go hungry again, and he could finally focus solely on his rise to power.

Or so he thought. When you managed to pick his intentions apart and discovered the cunning and manipulative nature of the man, you became defiant, fucking petulant. Your once tender and loving gaze, seeking to nurture and care for him, hardened like the calcium deposits on the well pumps in the poorer districts of Panem. He heard in passing from the workers of the house about your violent fits of tears late at night. It wasn’t like he cared, hell, the idea of your reddened face damp with tears and snot amused him to no end. But fuck if it didn’t annoy him when Tigris became your closest friend and confidant.

Coriolanus kept you locked away in the golden cage of his home, not permitting the men of his staff to go near you, forcing you to discuss with him the simplest task of visiting your own family. You were still the key to his now inherited wealth, a prize that he had won with cunning and malicious tactics, and the thought of you straying into the arms of another man, who could take you, who could take even a bit of the control he held, it infuriated him to no end.

It took almost a year for you to realize that without your family, he was completely broke, and it took almost two to realize he never once held even a glimmer of fondness towards you, that he was using you. Tigris, who had spoken to you during her regular visits, had become the arms you fell into when the agony of your situation first befell you. Her hands wrapped around your body as she shushed and hummed quietly were a solace to you as the pain dawned on you. Three years after your marriage, you would speak in hushed tones over cooling tea, not bothering to hide your glare when Coriolanus bothered joining. He was no longer the subject matter of your conversations with Tigris, instead discussing gossip that had spread through the yammering mouths of Capitol citizens, and the newest trends to pass around them. She had become your dearest friend, one he couldn’t find a valid reason to hide you from. Though he never would admit while his heart was still beating, despite your shared animosity, you were still his favorite accessory.

The Reaping ceremonies for the next annual Hunger Games would begin soon, which became a sensitive topic between you and Coriolanus. It was no secret to you who Lucy Gray Baird had been, who she had been to him. What the hunger games meant to him. You resented her. Not for the place she held near his heart, but for managing to escape him before he had caged her.

The fire of your arguments was always sparked by her name, the tinder and fuel having already been prepared by the years of building resentment. Almost always in his office, your hands would shove him back as he rapidly approached you after you provoked him with harsh and unforgiving words, only fanning the flame of hatred he felt towards you. Then he would corner you, your back against the wall as one hand found your neck and the other found your hair, his fingernails digging at your scalp. His minty breath falling out of his mouth in heavy gasps as he fought the urge to kill you right there. You made him feel as though he was an animal from the districts, dirty and foaming at the mouth. And he hated that.

“You know I would never harm you.” He’d always reassure you when his grip on your throat finally loosened, his eyes taking in the way you would suck in air he had prevented from reaching your lungs. Coriolanus considered what little he allowed you, even the air you breathed, a favor. He thought himself generous, benevolent even. He wasn’t of course, and you were always quick to point that out.

Today's argument was only different in setting, within the walls of your shared bedroom rather than his office. You had shoved him, predictable, and turned to storm away, wanting to find a guest room to sleep in instead. But before you could reach the door, his hand had yanked you by your hair back towards him before nearly throwing you on the bed. When you sat up to scramble away, he shoved you back down by your shoulders and crawled on top of you, effectively pinning you to the mattress, an echo of your frequent taunts. It was rare that you two would actually be in such a position, as neither of you particularly craved intimacy with one-another, yet the way one hand slid up your negligee and gripped the curve of your thigh conveyed a much different message tonight.

“I just wish you’d shut up for once, you know that?” He growled. Coriolanus Snow was an aggressive lover. He put all his weight on his forearm strung across your chest to keep you pinned down as his fingers left their place on your thigh and slid up to the junction of your legs, cupping your heat rather aggressively before shoving them aside and sliding his fingers over your folds to find the sensitive and rather neglected bundle of nerves. You could hardly hide the shudder that overcame you as you responded.

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, writhing under his touch. Your head fell back on the luxurious sheets and you bit back a moan as he swirled his fingers in a circular motion over your clit, stirring the lust you had repressed to life. How he loved to see your eyes rolling back into your skull as you fought surrendering to his ministrations. The edges of his mouth lifted in a smug little smirk when your arousal became more evident, making your cunt slick and pliable.

Oh, how he adored to see his poor, neglected wife fall victim to her own human nature. It made him want to consume you whole, like you were a treat he got all to himself. Coriolanus’s mouth fell to your collarbone and his teeth scraped over the thin skin as he slipped his middle finger inside your sopping hole, earning an earnest mewl from your normally argumentative lips. He bit down rather hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder as he slowly, teasingly pumped his finger in and out. This would be easier than he thought.

He tilted his head back up to take in the sight of your demeanor flickering to something more vulnerable, before taking your mouth with his. He kissed you like you provided the air he needed to breathe, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. You’d be a fool to say you didn’t still crave him after the years of strained marriage. His teeth clashed with yours as you both attempted to deepen the kiss. When he pushed another finger inside of you, hooking them and speeding up, your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

When your mother described to you what sex was like, she explained it like an intimate dance, where two souls would merge with love and passion. But it was never like that between the two of you. It was always a battle, aggressive and antagonistic as one of you sought to take something from the other. For Coriolanus, it was a display of his authority and control. His fingers quickened in pace and your hips bucked up into his hand, searching for more friction that would aid in your release. And he was benevolent wasn’t he? Who would he be to deny such a rare and primal pleasure? His fingers continued their attack on the spongy roof of your walls, pushing you closer and closer until your hand tore at the skin of his back with the intensity of your orgasm. Still seeing stars, he pulled his lips from yours and hovered them over your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, damp with tears.

“See how easy everything can be when you just stop resisting me at every turn?” You opened your mouth to respond, to bite back when the arm that pinned you down quickly shifted so his hand could cup over your mouth. He loved shutting you up. His silent voice hissed in your ear with a lingering promise. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

So focused on his words and hot breath on your ear, you almost didn’t notice when he pulled his fingers from inside you to tug down your panties, discarding them somewhere behind him before fumbling with the breeches he slept in, the cold air of the room hitting his stiff cock. He brought that same hand up before him, spitting in it and spreading the wetness of his saliva over his hardened length. Barely giving you a second to process all that was happening, he pressed himself inside of you, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow furrowing as your tight, wet heat engulfed him entirely.

Having not been intimate with him in so long, it was like he was splitting you open, and you cried out with pleasure into his hand, your own lashes pressing together as you took his total length. Coriolanus didn’t remain still for long, and his hips soon began setting a bruising pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he fought the urge to moan himself, not wanting to appear any less in control than he was. Your muffled gasps spurred him on, practically driving him mad as he pummeled into you. The volume difference when he removed his hand from your mouth and forearm from your chest was quite noticeable, and his fingers wove into your hair once more, holding your head back against the bed as he swallowed your moans with his mouth.

The stinging pain of your nails in the skin of his back when they flung around him was dulled by the sheer thrill he felt taking you like this. The hand that coaxed your orgasm out of you found its way to your thigh again, pushing it up over your torso to rest on your shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you as his fingers dug into the hot and tender skin. You nearly screamed into his mouth from the change in sensation as his hips came flush with yours over and over again. For a brief moment, he pulled away from the kiss to bite and suck at the skin of your neck, letting you sing out unmuted by his hand, as he imagined his songbird would so many years ago.

Coriolanus hated you. He hated almost everything about you. He resented you the way you resented him, but he was still addicted to you. Addicted to the control you allowed him as he fucked you stupid, to the way your pitful moans were brought about by him, to the dumb fucking look on your face as your body managed to make his hips stutter and falter as he came inside you with a low moan. He didn’t care about pulling out. You were his wife, a state figurehead, it was part of the job description to give birth to his children. Maybe getting you pregnant would even do him the favor of shutting you up. He didn’t bother helping you clean up as you readjusted your nightgown, instead opting to wipe the sweat from his brow and tuck himself back in the satin pants he intended on sleeping in.

Coriolanus Snow was not capable of real love. All those close enough to him were well-aware of that fact, including you. But when he crawled into the bed and pulled you, still breathless and trembling, up next to him, when he tucked your head into his chest in a possessive manner, your hands pressed against his heated chest, when he fell asleep holding you like you’d run away too, you momentarily convinced yourself he might have been able to love.

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