#like in the scheme of things this is nothing. it's disgusting but it's the least of Gazan worries

[ironunderstands]

Explaining why I think the notion that “Jade did nothing wrong and if you hate her then you are a misogynist” is incorrect 

Disclaimer: I don’t actually hate Jade, I find her compelling because she seems like the first true villain we might get in the game, and her kit looks really fun, so for that I can respect her. However, to say that she did nothing wrong, or that the people who dislike her are somehow in the wrong or are misogynists is very stupid, which is why I would like to clear up this misconception.

Let’s start with the “she did nothing wrong part” because that’s straight up not true. 

‼️This post will contain leaks of Jade’s eidolons and lc, it will also contain mentions of slavery and sexual violence so be careful‼️ 

I think the scene Jade fans go to point to when trying to argue that she does nothing wrong is the one that depicts her conversation with Aventurine. They state that she “saved him” and that the notions of her being a slave owner/having ties to slavery is incorrect.

However, at the very least the first part of this assumption is wrong, as in no way shape or form did she “save” Aventurine. 

1.Aventurine saved himself. 

He is the one who set up the scheme to get the IPC’s attention, he is the one who killed his master, and he is the one who fought for his freedom. Attributing his hard work to Jade’s “benevolence” erases that, and it pretends as if she’s the one who did all the work, when in reality Aventurine wouldn’t have even had a chance if he didn’t bet on himself.

2.What she offers Aventurine isn’t much better than what his life was before. 

In a sense, Jade just gave Aventurine golden chains, and if she was really interested in saving him, there wouldn’t be a trial, and she would just let him go. “But the scam” the IPC has an uncountable amount of money, they literally control the currency in the galaxy, and are working on taking over the whole universe, a scam ran by one person on one planet will not damage them for long. What Aventurine did really only matters because the IPC made it matter, and even if Jade doesn’t have complete control over all the goings on on the IPC, if she could make it so Aventurine could join them, there’s really no reason she couldn’t just let him free without any strings attached (which is what a normal person would do in this situation, because, well, empathy).

She knows how bad his situation was, as she remarked on how he killed his master, and the average person would struggle to find fault in his behavior at all, let alone have there even be a debate of whether she should let him live or not. 

Like, imagine yourself as Jade for a second, and you are sent to judge this kid (we don’t actually know how old Aven was in that scene, but I’d wager he was a late teenager/young adult) who just escaped slavery but also scammed the organization you are a part of, the organization that is what caused him to be enslaved in the first place (I’ll get into it*). At the very least, if you are like me, you would have a very hard time getting mad at this kid because well who wouldn’t do what he did in his circumstances. That’s why Jade still focusing on her self interests disgusts me and likely disgusts a lot of people who saw this scene, it’s not some equal transaction of sorts, she quite literally has his life on her hands and is toying with it to suit her own ends. 

Now, this situation is complicated, as Aventurine does actually want to join the IPC, but only because he believed that would be the best way he could try and save any remains of his people, the Avgin. We know this for two reasons a) the IPC took everything from him, and he has absolutely no reason why he would want to work for them if they can’t offer him anything b) the first thing Aventurine asks Jade when he becomes a Stoneheart is what happened to the rest of the Avgin, meaning that was likely his goal from the start, as even before becoming enslaved Aventurine had a ton of expectations of being the one to save the Avgin. 

However, from Jade’s perspective, likely

she doesn’t know any of this (unless she can read minds who knows), all she does know is that she holds a position of power over a very brave and intelligent person who owes a debt to the IPC for their crimes against it, and will die if she doesn’t save them. Therefore, she takes advantage of Aventurine’s inferior position, offering him a job not out of the kindness of her heart, but because she see’s his moneymaking potential and knows he can’t decline her offer, since his options are IPC or death. 

This is textbook exploitation, and it honestly disgusts me when people try and paint their relationship to be a mother/son one, when she so clearly views him as nothing more than a tool to achieve her own ends. As someone else puts it, Jade cares for Aventurine like one might care for a gun/weapon, ie she finds it useful and would like it to not get destroyed, but ultimately it’s just a tool that can be replaced. 

Aventurine’s banner name is called “Gilded Imprisonment” for a reason, and Jade offers him nothing more than shiny new chains. 

*sidenote: the IPC aren’t just the ones who broke their promise to help the Avgin, they are also likely the ones who enslaved Aventurine. This is because as Kakavasha, he referred to them as “the men in black/the men in black suits”, aka the IPC. Which is why when first enslaver says he bought him from “the men in black”, he’s also likely referring to the IPC, considering that the exact same phrase in used, in fact, he’s probably mocking the way Aventurine referred to them due to how specific it is. So yeah, I don’t know why people pretend Aventurine is over what the IPC did to him, or even like they saved him, bro probably wants to kill all of them and I fully support him in this endeavor.*

Speaking of treating him like a tool 

3. Dehumanizing Aventurine 

Her first words to him in this scene are pointing out his biggest insecurity.

“What pretty eyes. Tell me, do they shine in the dark?”

Out of context this might not be bad, but oh my god is it horrific in context. The Avgin’s eyes aren’t just a defining feature of theirs, but something they have been sexualized and abused for. Sparkle in her conversation with Aventurine implies that Sigonian’s use their attractive features (including their distinctive eyes) to get people to let down there guard and trick people, and in the same breath she also implies he did that to convince Sunday as well. Aventurine also hides his eyes with his tinted glasses because people automatically judge/discriminate against him for it, so Jade continuing that pattern is gross in my opinion.

Let’s also not forget that Aventurine is Romani coded, and a large proportion of both enslaved Roma in the past and free Roma have experienced sexual violence, as well as being treated as exotic and having other fetishized stereotypes attached to them. Calling his eyes pretty isn’t just some compliment, it’s also an extension of that, especially considering that it’s heavily implied that Aventurine did experience sexual violence when he was enslaved. 

This is what makes Jade IMMEDIATELY going to talking about his eyes creepy as hell to me, and something I dislike her for. 

However, I don’t think she meant it in a sexual manner, rather I think she was trying to get a reaction out of him, as well as demonstrate her position of power over him, which is just, ugh. Like I’m sorry to say this, but if Aventurine was a woman and Jade was a man, Jade would never be beating the p3do allegations for this comment. What do you mean the first words you say to someone involve taunting them for a feature they get sexualized and mistreated over, someone that is likely a minor or a very young adult,  someone that you hold a very clear position of power over. At the very nicest this is insensitive as hell for her to do, but considering she did not at all apologize to his very obviously negative reaction makes me think it was deliberate targeting. 

Also, the next part of that opening.

Yes, Jade is somewhat impressed by Aventurine, but objectively, this phrase doesn’t really come off that way, especially considering her tone in the scene. Seriously, rewatch it, it’s less of her being impressed, and more of her being surprised at him breaking the status quo, one which she doesn’t seem to view negatively. Also, keep in mind that in the CN (aka canon) version, the word is “slave” instead of servant, however I don’t know how the lines are delivered in CN, so she might sound kinder.

Regardless, having this neutral, almost detached perspective on slavery is very uncomfortable, at least to me. Because well, slavery is really bad (shocker), and you can’t really be neutral about these kinds of things. Commenting about how resisting his master would put Aventurine in danger in a clinical and detached manner gives the impression that Jade does not care about the existence of slavery in the slightest, and is perfectly happy with knowing it’s going on and doing nothing about it. Something which gets 10x worse considering the organization she works for is the one doing the slavery, which makes me wonder if she’s seen it before and been like “eh, it’s part of life” 😭

I’m aware dismantling an entire institution is difficult, but her sheer apathy rather than inaction is what I feel is wrong in this scene, as again, a normal person wouldn’t talk about slavery like this. They would probably phrase it like, “resisting your enslaver would put your life in danger, yet you did it anyways”, with none of that neutral tone in there, which kind to implies that Aventurine resisting the person who abuses him is in any way wrong or unusual for a person to do. Honestly I can understand a little bit why people don’t have problems with this line, as understand why people see it as just her doing her job as a judge. However, there’s something so disturbingly off with it that makes me really not like Jade for it, and hopefully I conveyed that well enough, if you have a better way of phrasing it please tell me.

Annnd this is why I say she doesn’t view him as a person. Jade literally tells Aventurine that his name, the remainder of his identity, the one part of his culture and his family and his life, quite literally the only thing he has left is destined to be buried and abandoned. She knows how much it means to him, and she wants him to cast it aside and pick a new identity, as the only thing Jade cares about is what value Aventurine can bring for the IPC. 

Also, she does refer to him as “child” there, so yeah, he likely is a minor or at the very least they have a very significant age gap! Yay! Taking advantage of people significantly younger than you! And if he is somehow close to her age, then well, she views him like a child in comparison to her, which is dehumanizing. There’s really no winning with this one huh 😭

She also refers to him in the same way his old enslaver did! 

Hound and dog are synonyms, so yeah, ew. Narratively, this is meant to be a parallel from Aventurine’s time enslaved to his time now, which demonstrates how nothing really changed, as Jade refers to him in the same way his old master/enslaver did.

4. However, that’s not all to be concerned about for Jade, at least in terms of morality, so let’s look at her eidolons.

Each one of her eidolons questions a good quality, let’s take E3 for an example.

“Honesty?” She questions why people, more specifically she would be sincere, and answers it with “Soon Mortgaged”. 

Now in this context, her honesty is likely seen as being convienent in order to get a deal off, if meant as a noun. As a verb it’s used in a similar manner, with Jade only behaving honestly because it’s part of her duty as a debt collector/contract maker.

Either way, this pattern for her eidolons, of her questioning a good quality then providing a selfish reason for why she exhibits it sets up a vicious implication. It makes it seem like any an all seemingly kind, benevolent behavior from Jade is really just a means to further her goals, making her seem untrustworthy and selfish, like well, a snake, which is a motif prevalent throughout her design. 

Her lightcone description also doesn’t make her seem much better.

Oh how lovely, giving a future to innocent children, I sure do hope this description doesn’t end badly!

“A philanthropist with a hidden agenda, a villain who mortgages souls… She was given various identities by the world, but only she understood the morality behind these actions.”

Jade what are you planning… 

This tells us two things:

1) She engages in philanthropist behavior for reasons we don’t know of yet which is concerning because philanthropy is centered around helping people, why do you have ulterior motives for helping people. What are you planning with those children, Jade?

2)”A villain who mortgages souls” oh! Sure, these two identities were apparently given to her by the world, but like, mortgaging souls??? I’ll get into her biblical (specifically satanic) references next, but like, you need one hell of a good reason to justify buying and selling PEOPLES SOULS. Whatever hidden agenda Jade might have must be like unfathomably good to justify this, because well, this means she owns (or at least helps other people own) people. PEOPLE. 

Jade fucking OWNS HUMAN BEINGS. Unless those people are like a dictator reincarnated or something there’s no good reason to justify owning the essence of someone’s being. It’s straight up evil and I’m glad the game calls her a villain for it. 

5. Satan is that you???

The snake, her contract thing as her skill and in her splash art, her job being “Jade of Credit”, her relationship to withered fruit, and the apple in her splash art, the man at her feet in her splash art, her MORTGAGING SOULS. Look, I’m not a Christian, but like, these are all pretty blatant references to satan who’s, idk, the embodiment of evil. Sure, you could say she’s more like Eve, but she’s not being tricked by the snake, no, in fact, the snake works for her.

Now I don’t literally think Jade is meant to be the devil or something, but she sure as hell seems like she’s meant to be narratively like an agent of Satan/ a demon, which is fascinating. Interestingly, this also paints her interaction with Aventurine as a deal with the devil, which just makes it seem even worse than it already is. 

Well, for now that’s all of Jade’s questionable behavior, and I feel confident enough in saying that at the very least she’s meant to be read as morally grey, so acting like she does no wrong is strange. However, it’s not a crime to like villains at all, and I feel like if Jade’s hardcore defenders just accepted that part of her character, everyone would be way happier, because people do have legitimate reasons to dislike her for the shit she has done, especially rroma people for how she treated Aventurine. 

Not everyone has to like your favorite character, and downplaying and lying about her lore and character because you can’t handle that is annoying as hell and does the character you are defending in the first place a disservice. Jade being a bad person is what makes her interesting, and honestly the idea that women can’t be bad people is misogynistic as well, which is a nice way to transition to the other part of this post:

For the love of god people don’t dislike Jade because of misogyny. Please shut up and stop throwing words around that you clearly don’t understand, as you only end up diminishing actual misogyny. 

I’ve already gone over the valid reasons why people dislike her, so let’s go over all the other stupid shit people bring up in trying to pretend like Jade hate is misogyny.

“But Boothill didn’t get complaints when he was randomly drip marketed, people complaining are only misogynistic Sunday fans!”

Jesus Christ.

Boothill has been leaked for several fucking months prior to his drip marketing, and people had been waiting diligently for when he would finally show up for a while, so obviously they were happy when he did.

He’s like, the most fanservice-y character (in a good way) ever. Boothill is a fucking long-haired cyborg space cowboy outlaw who physically cannot curse and has the cuntiest animations known to mankind, that’s like the most appealing combination of traits known to man. So appealing in fact, that people outside the fandom were making posts about him. Big shocker that the character designed to make everyone love him has everyone love him, act surprised 

Jade’s only scene so far had been her one with Aventurine in 2.1, which as I mentioned prior, has problems. This also doesn’t help that she’s just as slimy in his character stories and their interaction in 2.2, which compared to again, the character designed to be as appealing as possible, isn’t a good look. 

For the love of god Sunday fans have the right to complain. They have also been waiting MONTHS for him, so they would have been disappointed at any character that isn’t Sunday getting marketed, as that means they have to wait even more months for him. He’s highly anticipated, in comparison to Jade, whose had crumbs so far, so of course some people got upset (I didn’t see anything more than disappointment tbh)

People did complain about Boothill’s marketing! Like I know everyone clowned on them, but there were Firefly stans genuinely upset that he got marketed over her, and someone even started a “boycott Boothill’s banner” campaign 😭. It’s just the other reasons compounded why more people complained about Jade than they did about him.

I’m sure there’s some people out there who hate her because they hate women, but like, everyone? Really?

Genuinely, it is so tiring to see misogyny get thrown around like it doesn’t mean anything, and people complaining about misogyny where it doesn’t exist, and ignoring it where it does. Like I’m sorry SOME Jade stans, but yall cannot call this misogyny, then proceed to compare Jade to other female characters like Firefly, and call them flops and trash in comparison to her. THATS unnecessary hating on women for no reason, so don’t be a fucking hypocrite.

Also if a goddamn fictional character is the hill you die on for women’s rights issues, when there’s actual women being genocided right now, please reevaluate your priorities and support the women who actually need your help and assistance right now. Dogging on random Sunday fan #365 for being “misogynistic” because they said they wished he was marketed instead of Jade when there are women being murdered as we speak is dumb as hell. Like yes, these two problems can coexist, but for the love of god pixels are not as important as actual people, and if you really cared about women this would not be the one issue of misogyny you seem to talk about. 

Well, this post was kinda a mess, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways! I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter, and personally I’m very interested to see where they go with Jade in 2.3. Please keep making her evil and don’t try to hit us with the sad backstory Hoyo, I’m fine if it’s meant to complicate her, but please don’t try and redeem her. Hopefully they go with the Dottore route, but considering they are planning on selling her, they might throw everything interesting down the drain for her which is sad. Let women be evil! And I hope you have a good day :) 

#honkai star rail #hsr #We must pray she gets done justice #jade hsr #jade honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine hsr #also the whip was um #The racists found it unfortunately #Prepare for the most tiring jokes ever when her banner drops #Ik people are already doing this but still #ARLAN AND AVENTURINE GET BEHIND ME #also please support the people in Gaza right now #They are the ones who really need peoples help right now #It’s so tiring seeing people complain about nonexistent misogyny towards pixels when they don’t even care about it irl #There are actual women who need your help rn and Jade is not one of them #Ugh anyways

[zoobus]

what's the hit single?

"Harbu Darbu" calls for revenge on everyone who planned, executed, and supported the Hamas-led attack in Israel. and tells the people of Gaza to "wait for [bombs] to rain on you like a debt".[9] The lyrics call for enemies to be "Xed out", using the phrase "every dog gets his day" in Arabic.[4] The rappers specifically call for the deaths of Hezbollah secretary-general Hassan Nasrallah, Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh, and Palestinian militant Mohammed Deif. The song goes on to say "every cunt's last day will come" and calls for the deaths of Bella Hadid, Dua Lipa, and Mia Khalifa, Western celebrities who expressed support for Palestinian people.[10][11]

Hamas leaders and Mia Khalifa. Comparable threats to Israel.

One verse calls Hamas the "sons of Amalek",[4]... adding: "You must remember what Amalek has done to you, says our Holy Bible. And we do remember".[a][7]

"Now go and smite Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they have, and spare them not; but slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass."

As of December 2023, "Harbu Darbu" had received almost 3.5 million listens and views.[9] The song reached #1 on Israel's Mako Hit List [he]. It was also the most popular song on streaming platforms in Israel, including YouTube and Spotify.

#Israel #palestine #current events #like in the scheme of things this is nothing. it's disgusting but it's the least of Gazan worries #but fucking hell - to not even merit a clickbait headline...

[aanglican]

uncle iroh is treated very much like a paragon of virtue in the series. yes we know he has had a violent past, that he has done terrible things, committed atrocities in the service of the fire nation— but we don’t really feel it because all of that had happened off screen and prior to the series. instead, he comes to us as a more perfect being and one deified with secret good deeds revealed throughout the story: uncle iroh is the keeper of the dragons and an important member of the white lotus, he is just that awesome.

uncle iroh is so divorced from his immediate past that we don’t see him haunted by any of it unless it’s by lu ten— which begs the question: did he really turn his back on the fire nation due to a moral awakening or was it only/mostly for his own good? he certainly doesn’t behave in a manner you’d expect from a repentant ex-imperialist: he’s not too worried about walking the streets of ba singe se, let alone actually staying there after the war ended. (the same war he participated in on the side of the aggressors, mind you.) he is shameless enough to be living there while hiding away and was unscrupulous in accepting hospitality from earth kingdom folks who were made refugees by the fire nation, i.e., song’s family. does he not feel guilty or at least uncomfortable with his circumstances, especially since it has only been 5 or so years since the siege at ba sing se and thus still very fresh in the grand scheme of things? is iroh just that Enlightened and At Peace with his past that it doesn’t color his every movement? or is his lack of a moral hangover just a writing oversight? were they scared to make their most lovable character in a rated TV-Y7 cartoon a tad more polarizing?

while uncle iroh does his job well for the story— that is, to act as zuko’s guiding light— i do wish he were knocked off his pedestal a bit more. uncle iroh is, after all, the proto-zuko to ozai’s proto-azula. i wish to see him at least slightly paranoid about people recognizing him from his military days and vice versa. i wish to see him uneasy about being in the earth kingdom (out of guilt? as opposed to zuko’s superiority complex and anger). i wish to see him meet another person who also has visible burn scars, one that has nothing to do with zuko/his family, and still look away in shame or disgust by the implications. et cetera et cetera. anything to indicate he feels something more about himself and other people that isn’t just Wise Old Man.

#mytext #uncle iroh #atla #fire nation #fnrf

[hxnbi]

「 IF ONLY... ︱GOJO SATORU 」

— synopsis: if only you were like your brother... — disclaimers: angst, comfort, platonic

yuji and megumi version | masterlist

— GOJO SATORU

Born from the same womb, your role was sealed from the moment your brother opened his eyes.

Your brother was the first one out of the stomach, therefore officially the "older sibling" by a mere 13 seconds. Though, that was of little importance in the grand scheme of things.

Because that didn't matter. You didn't matter.

Your brother, Gojo Satoru, was beloved, adored, and spoiled beyond any child of the Gojo clan. 

It made sense. After all, Satoru was the pride of the Gojo Clan, the first person to inherit both the Limitless and the Six Eyes in four hundred years.

…As for you?

You were dubbed as the failure of the Gojo clan.

You had no technique and hardly enough cursed energy to see spirits. It's no wonder even your own parents called you a pathetic child and an extra mouth to feed. It's funny, considering how wealthy the Gojo clan really was…

That sealed it for you.

It silently implied you didn't belong in the family and never would. Not the while Satoru was still alive. 

You doubted with every part of your being that your family would ever repent for their actions and start loving you again. Even then, every time, hope still lingered, but it felt like a mere wisp of a dream, a fragile whisper carried away by the winds of despair—a mere pipe dream. 

Every time the "Gojo twins" were mentioned, it was always about how strong Satoru was and how weak you were, not being able to live up to anybody's expectations of you.

You weren't weak. If anything, you were strong, even without having a technique of your own to boast, befitting a member of the Gojo clan. But you were nothing compared to your brother… and because you were twins, it was all people could ever compare you to.

You were but a shadow in Satoru's life, not even worth being named a replacement.

"If only [Y/n] had also inherited at least one of our techniques. It's a shame…" they would say.

The failure of the Gojo clan. It had a nice ring to it… you would sheepishly chuckle to yourself, carefully and willfully ignoring the aching pain in your chest, and instead put on a mask.

Satoru would constantly joke around with you, saying that he must've cannibalized and stolen all the cursed energy from you while you both were in the womb. It was funny at first—to him—but each jest carried a sting of truth, leaving a subtle ache in your heart as the words echoed in your mind.

You were spiteful. Every day, it served as a cruel reminder that you could never escape. You felt hurt, betrayed, and, most of all, forgotten.

But, when everything was all said and done, you couldn't ever find it in you to blame your brother. After all, he couldn't control the circumstances. He just happened to win the lottery, and you didn't—ended up getting not even a piece of the pie, but rather a single crumb of it.

But Satoru still loved you.

He tried his damn best to include you in everything—and you knew it. How he would ask you to come to the family meetings from then on. He succeeded, of course. No one could ever oppose him, but the utter looks of disgust that you would receive painted a canvas of silent disapproval and alienation.

You never did belong there.

You believed you didn't deserve his love, or anyone's love, for that matter. But even so, you couldn't help but accept it as a balm for the wounds of neglect inflicted by everyone else.

Satoru saw, and he knew what you were thinking—and what you thought of him. He would have to be stupid not to. But like the sneaky bastard he was, he kept on playing dumb. That is, during a day of training where you and Satoru were on the field. 

You watched with your legs propped close to your chest and your hand holding up your chin, watching Satoru as he was supposedly “training.” 

You kept close to yourself, eyes eventually fluttering close for just a second. “...” 

"Oiiii~! [Y/n]! What are you doing, zoning out like that, huh?"

You snapped from your daze, only to see Satoru’s pale face right in front of yours, rubbing at the top of your head. "Nothing, Satoru. Now, stop pulling on my hair."

You didn't know if it was just boredom settling in or if you were that fed up with everything of your years of existence, but you finally asked the burning question.

"Satoru."

"Hm?" he turned around to face you. "What is it, [Y/n]?"

"...Why do you stay around me?"

He tilted his head with an 'innocent' expression. But he knew. He always did. “What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Satoru. Why do you bother being around someone like me? I'm only holding you back. Mom knows it. Dad knows it. All the higher-ups know it."

"So?"

You were his twin. Whatever happened to him would reflect on you as well. 

"But that's—!"

Satoru, with a thin line of a smile, edged on. "What's so wrong about it?"

You were left speechless.

"Why wouldn't I play with you? What are they going to do about it, huh? Kill me?" he smirked. “You're my other half, after all."

Something tickled her cheek—a tear. A tear was forming, but you wouldn't let it fall, and you wiped your cheek, which would turn to every few seconds. You started chewing on your lower lip, and your eyes welled up with tears.

There was nothing left of your anger. Everything was gone. But it wasn't sadness that took it. You did not feel anything at all, but your face said otherwise. You could hardly keep yourself together.

The confirmation that your brother cared—saying it all aloud—made you crumble like fragile petals in a gentle breeze. Whether you wanted to or not, every emotion cascaded down your face like delicate petals. Tears escaped your eyes, followed by a hand coming over your shoulder. 

You glanced upward. It was Satoru's, your brother's, hand. 

"Hey, hey, c'mon. Why are you crying about this time, huh?" he teased while his other hand was extended, ready to pull you up. 

Looking at him directly in the eyes, right into those pearly ocean eyes, you couldn't help but think.

“Hah, you were always a crybaby,” he grinned.

You stifled a sniff of your nose, wiping the remaining tears from your face. “Shut it…” you shot back, but that came out softer than you meant for it to be.

A piece of vulnerability.

But Satoru’s hand still remained extended.

And you took it, instinctively reaching out for your brother, just like you always tried to meet the expectations of those in the family. Yet, in that fleeting moment of silence, you not only reached but grasped, succeeding where you had previously faltered.

Gojo pulled your intertwined hands closer together, locking eyes with you. Your breaths were so close that you could feel both his and your every breath. 

"No matter what happens, I'll protect you. Didn't I tell you? I'm the strongest, after all.”

"You always say that," you laughed sheepishly.

"That's because I meant it. Every word."

Of course. You didn't doubt that. You never did. 

While he may be the world's strongest jujutsu sorcerer, Gojo Satoru.

He's still your brother.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru comfort #gojo satoru fluff #jjk gojo #gojo headcanons #fanfiction #fanfic #scenarios #angst #comfort #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen comfort #jjk platonic

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Thoughts on Jason Todd’s choice of weaponry?

:D an ask! Yay!

Oooh, lets see, I'll start with the crowbars because I appear to be like one of three people on the entire planet who actually likes them.

They're a tacky as fuck riff on the fact that Jason's death is central to his character. They overemphasize the manner in which he died, muddy the waters about what part of his death is important to him, and strangely cheapens the manner in which he died through the parody feel of it.

No one seems to really disagree with my analysis here, but I happen to enjoy that about them and think it's very on brand for Jason. What can I say? They're fun!

Best Quality - His Wiggles

This ultra-sharp curved blade used to be his signature character design feature, the way the white streak in his hair is now, and I'm really not sure why it didn't stick!

Best weapon he's ever had, bring it back please!!!!!

The All-Blades

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...

I have mixed feelings about the All-Blades. Like much of Lobdell's work: phenomenal idea, poor execution. Giving the guy who is most known for being morally grey a set of powers that is exclusively based on moral absolutes sucks shit, I gotta be honest, and the trick he pulled on the blood blade was cool but ultimately does nothing to solve those problems.

HOWEVER

I want to love them so fucking badly. A set of glowy soul blades is a dope sicknasty off the chain concept and I wish the well wasn't poisoned with the moral implications and the restrictions to use them only on the "Untitled", a set of enemies that only exist for Jason so far as I can tell. If someone seriously took Jason down a magic based path that removed the DnD alignment chart bullshit, I would be so game to see them come back! Hell I wouldn't even insist on a better cooler design for them!

...though uh, yeah those are the least interesting magic sword designs I've ever seen tbh

Normal Ass Swords

They're alright I guess. Like, there's nothing in it really, but it's not bad?

Guns - Real Bullets

Excellent, evocative yet simple, straightforwards and to the point. It makes hella sense thematically to boot, love this for him, please give him back his pistols and miniguns and shit

Guns - Rubber Bullets

Hate. HATE. hate ick disgusting bad NO.

I just fucking hate rubber bullets, like, as a concept. I refuse to accept "non-lethal" bullets as a valid use of gun, either in real life or in fiction. Guns are for putting many holes in things very fast!!!! If you're gonna use a gun, fucking well own up to that!!! Do not play this silly ass game of pretending that you can change out the material and do the same things as with lead bullets but with the video game status effect of "non-lethal" applied. YOU ARE GIVING PEOPLE SMALL CIRCULAR BRUISES. This is still harmful, yes, ooph ouchie, but it is not even slightly a good use of a gun, you are wasting holster space, and carry weight, and the physical materials used to make it all!!

JUST USE A FUCKING STICK! YOU DON'T RUN OUT OF STICK AMMO!

My belief in his capacity to take out enemies is shattered the instant those fuckers are on panel. Maybe this ain't entirely rational, or realistic to how fights go with rubber bullets IRL, but I hate them so much on principle that I will ignore any counterargument you might have that they'd work. I will die on this hill. Rubber bullets BAD. Please stop making him use this!!

Bombs

Love it, give him more bombs forever

ka-BOOM!!!!

His Brain

This is actually his best weapon - sorry wiggly knife, you're being shunted down to number 2 on a last minute technicality! I think Jason is at his best when he's outsmarting people and making long term fucked up schemes to ruin people's lives.

He's so good at it! It's so fun to watch him do it!

Genuinely a shame that this facet of him was mostly lost after Flashpoint, though to give credit where it is due, in Rebirth Jason did ruin the Penguin's life in an impressively elaborate way, which I did really enjoy. I want to see him be a tactical deliberate menace to one person in specific again idk, that's part of why I do kinda agree that he works better as an antagonist than a protagonist - which it should be noted does not mean I think he works better as a villain necessarily, his ethics aren't what matter here - he's just had his best moments as the schemer, and it's hard to have a protagonist schemer even when you make them ethically the good guy.

I hope you enjoyed my nattering on about Jason's weapons :D thank ye again for ask!

#jason todd #damian's tomfoolery

[nanamimizz]

tags: written for @prettyboykatsuki in mind. reader is gn, and is a rouge with a thief/street urchin background. marriage and discussion of children. takes place in act 3, spoilers for wyll’s personal quest. discussion of marriage. fluff.

synopsis: you overhear wyll bragging to the children. at first you think nothing of it until you hear him say somethings you weren’t privy to.

Wyll is good with children, a truth not doubted but known ever since you had met the fabled folk hero in the Emerald Grove. It’s something you hardly do not think of, if you don’t want to end up in some sort of frenzy of thoughts better left unsaid. At least for the chapter of life you two are currently in. Maybe, you think as you clutch the wishing acorn the love of your life had gifted you in the palm of your hand, maybe when all this is over you could discuss such things as a family with him. When Wyll is free of Mizora’s hands completely, when his father is safe from all plots and schemes and when the little friend in your head has been cast out - yes, you think, you would like to utter the words of a family to Wyll’s ever so kind ear.

Unlike you however, your intended is not as patient as you can hear him bragging to the tiefling children you have both met and saved in your travels to Baldur’s Gate. It makes you chuff, like a pleased tiger and shake your head oh so fondly as he utters tales of your adventures. As you draw near you can make out the words - he’s telling the tales of defeating the goblin camp leaders. The adventure feels like a lifetime ago but not the phantom ache of the knot on your head you sustained from Dror Ragzlin knocking you well and good on the head.

You hear one of the kids, Mattis with his shaggy dark hair and mischievous eyes that glitter like the gold he covets with his not-so-lucky rings.

“Looks like you don’t do much now, do you Blade of Frontiers?” Mattis mocks, snickering behind his red hand. Wyll laughs good-naturedly, letting the teasing roll off his back smoothly like water off a duck’s wing. It’s something you envy, how Wyll is never riled up by such empty words. Mattis pouts, petulant as he throws another half baked insult at the man.

“And what’s with you letting your allies take such a beating - first Karlach now this? Having a hard time picturing what good you are for Blade?” Wyll huffs a chuckle, a smug smile tugging at his full lips and you stare a little too deeply at how white his teeth are in the afternoon sun.

“Things are different now you see - I have another story for you…” Wyll continues on with the tale of where you fought off Roah Moonglow, a Zhentarim trader who stole all the gold in the common’s people’s coffers; there had been a fatal mistake that you had made and Wyll had saved you at the perfect time. Even had a second to spare to throw in a witty comeback and a brilliant smile your way before the fight continued. Mattis’s face scowled as even he had to admit that the story succeeded in making the Blade appear just as cool as you and Karlach.

If barely.

“So what’s different now? Did you finally know how to hold your own in a fight?” Mattis pouts, conceding that maybe the Blade of Frontiers was more cool than dorky. Wyll grins, brilliant teeth on display at the apple of his cheeks raised.

“I’m their husband now. No one can ever hurt them while I’m around.”

Scratch that. The Blade of Frontiers will forever be corny in the eyes of these tiefling children for as long as you and Karlach live - they even think that know-it-all wizard that hangs around you is cool by default. The children all gag, making their sounds of disgust with Mattis being the loudest of them all. They are quick to disperse, going off to do what children do best in the times they live in and you approach Wyll as they leave.

“Calling yourself my husband now are we? It’s been less than a tenday since you asked me to be yours. Unless we’ve had a ceremony within the same amount of time - I think it’s a little too soon to call you such a revered title.”

Wyll jumps at the sound of your voice, your quiet steps always managing to go under his senses. It makes you laugh a little, how the smallest testaments of your background manage to slip past the hero’s defenses. You watch with adoring eyes as Wyll flushes with a warmth that makes him shine in the daylight as he brings a hand to rub at the back of his neck from embarrassment.

“Please - don’t tell me you heard all of that?”

“Oh yes I did. Every word in fact.”

Wyll hisses in embarrassment, and even then he doesn’t hesitate to look back into your eyes when you gently run your hand on his arm.

“Do you mean that - that nothing can hurt me while you are with me?” You ask your voice soft with tentativeness. He softens, gaze going from embarrassment to an eager honesty simmered with so much affection you neve once thought you would be looked at with. Wyll is a smart man, perspective and he knows what it is you ask - the battles that you have yet to face but will have to as fate decrees; its golden thread dictating every action and word that is to be spoken.

Wyll takes the hand on his arm into his and gazes at you, the brown of his eyes turning golden under the warmth of his words.

“Yes, truly. I may be the Blade of Frontiers sworn to protect the Sword Coast but,” he pauses to lick his lips as if tasting the sweetness of his confession before uttering it to you, “I am first and foremost a blade sworn to you. So whenever our enemies are drawn near, don’t hesitate to point me their way.”

The devotion is heavy in each word spoken, something you had never been witness to - loyalty and devotion only gets you killed in the streets. So it takes you a moment to collect yourself, to pick yourself off the floor from the weight of the goodness Wyll holds for you. You swallow before speaking, your voice thick.

“You already asked me to marry you - you don’t need to lay it on thick.” You say, trying to deflect but Wyll only smiles, eyes fond and gently as he lets his thumb caress the top of your hand.

“I know, I can’t help but be sweet to you. And I swear to the Helm I’ll live up to my word everyday.”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his.

“I’ll hold it to you Lord Ravengard.”

“I hope to exceed all expectations.” His smile is smig but his words are warm - lovinging and truthful. Just as Wyll always is.

#lamb.writes #wyll ravengard x reader #wyll x reader #bg3 x reader #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #tav x wyll #wyll x tav

[your-mums-nuts]

okok idk if you've heard the spoiler happening where colin is upset with pen and ends up at a brothel?? i've seen it twice now and uh. im really hoping it isn't true. it made sense in the first part when he was still figuring things out, but after? i really don't think they will cause that's not in colin's favor at all, but why would someone say it if it wasn't true??

do you have any other information on it and do you think it's true?? (really hoping you can quell my irrational anxiety about this lol)

thank you!!

Girl dm me about this please cause I wanna hear what you’ve heard.

But in all seriousness- I am incredibly anxious about this too! I got my information about it from a Nicola and Luke interview where they imply something happens in part two that Nicola hated, and then Nicola goes “it’s not like he’s cheating on her..”

And then Luke said something like, “but he’s had to watch her all season..”

My hope is that it’s maybe at a ball and he dances with someone else in front of her after the Whistledown reveal. I would still dislike it because we’ve seen pen look longingly at Colin dancing with others for two seasons already, but it’d be far better if it meant nothing and was pointed, then it being an actual consideration.

If they did decide to do something with the brothel, even him just considering visiting a brothel, I am going to be so incredibly pissed off. I don’t care how upset or betrayed he is- cheating or even just considering cheating is so so disgusting and so unlike Colin.

Also I’m sorry but Whistledown is not that bad. I understand where the anger and feelings of betrayal would come from, but she has reasons. She was young and silly and went about it the wrong way but she at least has reasons for what she’s done.

If Colin were to do anything, however small, even if it was just implied possible cheating, there’s no reasoning there. There’s no ‘I did it for the grand scheme of things’ or ‘I was young and naive’ or even, ‘I felt powerless and overlooked.’

But in happier news (because a lot of this is just me spiralling) I think they’re clever enough not to do that. Bridgerton is kind of the ‘man on his hands and knees for woman he loves’ show, and it’s been extremely praised for embracing the female gaze in romance and sex alike.

.. and If they do go through with any of this, trust that the polin fanfic legends WILL be writing some great canon divergence, so there’s always that.

#polin #bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

[danmeiconfession]

No. I think Shen Yuan never really see these people as people even at the ends of the book. My dude really condemned Shen Jiu a modern man really gave no shit or felt any sorrow towards his enslavement and abuse. I read a fully grown man with modern sensibilities and values watch a child being horrifically abused. A child that was ENSLAVED, restrained, beaten, TORTURED by another man, an OWNER. And I read SY's thoughts on the matter. Read him condemning the child and feeling no horror or disgust at the act of child abuse. He felt nothing regarding the immorality and cruelty of slavery. Hell, When ZZL murdered GYX who was only ever just, kind, and helpful in all his interactions and to SY himself, I was upset SY seemed to feel nothing and felt no censure towards ZZL or sadness or guilt towards GYX who was trying to save him. But I excused it as him having other things to do because maybe for SY, it's easier for him to just push aside feelings over someone's death to focus on other things (though I was unnerved that he never seemed to think of it again or care).

SY intentionally condoned the murder of dozens of individuals to save his own skin, and never wrestled with his conscience over it. While SJ's self-hatred is detrimental to himself and those around him, at least he struggles emotionally and morally with his decisions. He still does them, but at least he doesn't excuse them or not even feel guilt or shame. SY however is completely shameless in doing whatever it takes to live. I honestly find characters like this interesting, but I found SY's character to be lacking because the author wanted him to be a self-centered survivalist while also a sweet, holy mother/mentor figure to LBH. That's a BL trope I usually find tedious and boring, especially because authors never have said overly kind, overly forgiving characters be kind to anyone accept a handful of characters who are plot relevant (sometimes even only the ML or villain) while they treat every other character as air or cardboard.

I was so convinced of SY's point of view on the original characters and novel, that I kept making excuses as SVSS unfolded. When he recounted the scheming and murdering of Sha Hauling in PIDW while fanboying over how excited he was to see her, I excused it as him not realizing the gravity of her crimes when they're committed against living people. And once he decided she wasn't that great and LBH deserved better, I was assured, even though he seemed to only do so because she was rude to himself. When he celebrated O!LBH's torture and mutilation of SJ for bullying him in his teen years and even called for SJ's castration, I excused it because who doesn't want to see an evil pedophile get what they deserve, and fans can get overly enthusiastic sometimes, even if calling for slow, multi-year mutilation and torture is a bit extreme even if LBH is your favorite characte

It seems a lot SJ haters like to excuse LBH's behavior the way they claim SJ fans excuse SJ's. LBH was the poor kid and bullied by kids in the neighborhood, then singled out and bullied at his school, before being treated to the abyss where he utilized the training he received at CQ and his innate demon heritage to establish himself. In PIDW, he proceeds to commit large scale mass murder, borderline genocide, destroy the human realms sects and defenses against spiritual and demonic threats, all why gruesomely maiming, torturing, dismembering, disemboweling, and feeding alive anyone he disliked. Uhhhh... disproportionate, much. Bitch slap and shame people if you want, but O!LBH is a monstrous, self-centered, sadistic freak show. He goes far beyond a victim of abuse reacting with anger and defensiveness. He controls the lives and wellbeing of all the people in the realms, and repeatedly makes time to find enjoyment in the torture, pain, and suffering of others on a scale he had never experienced himself. Meanwhile, SVSS!LBH still decided to start widespread violent capture of cultivators to date Xin Mo while SY was out of the picture only sparing CQ because he knew once SY was brought back, SY would be upset with him if he did. He shows no care for anyone else, human or demon, in the world of SVSS besides SY. His only regards for others are as useful allies and subordinates, enemies, and people he knows SY would lightly scold and admonish him for killing. LBH is fucked up in every universe, whether he gets bullied at school, or his teacher turns him into a live in homemaker.

At best, I could excuse this as SY not seeing other people as actual people. Maybe because he read about them as fictional characters first, he can't fully perceive them as humans, just characters, not as real people like him and SQH. Maybe he made an exception for LBH because LBH is his favorite character. But that care and regard clearly don't extend to anyone else.

I have no idea where people get the idea he sees them as real he doesn't. I couldn't care about a protagonist who didn't react with shock or horror or even just resigned sadness to child slavery. I couldn't give a shit about his romance anymore. I stopped reading. To be clear, I don't hate SY, or even his type of character. I'm just disappointed because I went into SVSS thinking I'd be getting a cute, sweet, slightly stupid, modern nerd flailing though a comedic romance full of ridiculous misunderstandings and pitfalls. It turned out, I got a self-centered, apathetic fanboy simultaneously stalking while trying to avoid and stay on the good side of his mentally unstable, over powered idol. Which I've actually read before too, but at least the author wasn't forcing every other character to remark on how sweet, kind, and good the fanboy who cared about nothing but his favorite character was.

Clearly, his anti-abuse philosophy only extended to LBH and no other child. He felt nothing regarding the immorality and cruelty of slavery." The hypocrisy displayed by SY is astonishing. It's fascinating how SY condemns child abuse, expressing concern for Binghe's mistreatment, yet dismisses Binghe's daily killings over five years to control Xin Mo as a consequence of past abuse. There's an apparent double standard. Moreover, in the same breath, witnessing SJ's appalling abuse, SY downplays its impact, suggesting that SJ's mistreatment doesn't excuse his transformation into a reprehensible individual. SY seems to overlook the scumbag-like behavior, focusing instead on SJ's skills, status, beauty, hard work, and wealth.

Why do people like this character lol?

.

#svsss #scumbag self saving system #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shen yuan #luo binghe #scumbag system #zhuzhi lang #shang qinghua

[roguelov]

(Not) Cursed

Summary: After a rough week of nothing going right, Dream pays you a visit tries to cheer you up

Word Count: ~1.8k

Reader: Gender Neutral

Warning: Minor angst (general inconveniences and small outburst), mostly fluff

Requested by anon

The universe - in all of its grandiose schemes and of its intricate woven tales of fate - had ultimately put you on a path of misery.

Or at least, it seemed to be.

You were destined for a week, a tortuous long week, of the world completely set against you.

It all began with work - a simple retail job in a local clothing shop. Of course, like all jobs, there were ups and downs, however, this week was unbearably stressful. Firstly, the most volatile and rude customers seemed to have rallied together bombarding the shop and made it near impossible to help them or get a word in otherwise. So while other coworkers tried their best with customers, you decided to try to restock and reorganize the display shelves, which ended in more agony. You only succeeded in tripping and sending all the clothes all over the floor, and also managed to knock over a mannequin thus breaking one of its arms. After cleaning up said mess, you moved to work at the cash register. But, tragedy struck again. You were simply scanning in items, pressed a button okay a credit card, and the system completely crashed on you. It wouldn’t work no matter how much you pleaded, and your manager had to take over to complete the transaction.

You swore a curse was inflicted upon you. Whatever you touched would be ruined.

And your theory only proved to be more and more correct.

After a draining week at work and other unfortunate mishaps you encountered - traffic jams, spilled drinks, torn clothes, etc, you had to do some grocery shopping and decided to splurge a bit. You saw a tasty new recipe and bought all the necessary ingredients, along with a few other things to treat yourself with. But, the curse had already decided your next victim: your dinner.

Stumbling with groceries, you unlocked your apartment and fumbled inside. A few bags slipped from your grasp, and tumbled all of its contents out onto the once clean floor. Apples bruised, cans dented, and a bottle of soap busted leaking all over the floor.

You let out a frustrated groan. Setting the other bags onto the counter, you begrudgingly started to clean another mess added to this miserable, terrible week. You mumbled every curse under the sun as you cleaned up.

Damn this.

Damn everything.

After cleaning up the mess - and nearly slipping in the soapy bubbles - you put away everything and prepared to make dinner. But, your curse continued. A few more items were dropped and spilled in the process, which furthered your growing white hot anger. You gritted your teeth as your throat squeezed as you pushed back the need to cry and scream.

Fuck, it’s okay. I’m okay.

You chopped vegetables and began to cook them in a pan. You haphazardly moved around the kitchen collecting spices and seasoning while trying to put in the correct measurements.

Shit, what else? What am I missing?

You glanced over to your phone on the counter, rereading the recipe for the umpteenth time. You practically knew it by heart at this point, but you had to double check.

1 teaspoons, 1 ½ tablespoons, and okay -

You scrunched up your nose in disgust. You tilted your head back, inhaling deeply. An awful aroma filled the air, assaulting your senses. You wanted to choke. It was an awful aroma you knew well. Your eyes widened as you whipped around. Smoke clouded the air. The vegetables - your poor vegetables - were burning.

You scrambled over, turning off the stove and rushed the pan to the sink. The resound clang of the pan banging into the sink was your final straw. You numbly stared down to see your burnt diced vegetables. Burnt and ruined.

Ruined just like this week.

You sniffled then quickly squeezed your eyes shut.

Why? Why is everything going wrong?

You were so focused on drowning in your misery and distress, you failed to notice a peculiar thing happening in the living room behind you. Shadows stretched from underneath furniture and out of corners, pooling together. It swirled and swirled until it formed a mass. Stepping out of the shadows, with the sound sand pinging on the ground, a man appeared.

A man you knew dearly, and loved more than anything: Dream of the Endless, your loving Morphues.

Morpheus cocked his head, seeing your hunched figure in front of the sink. Your hands white knuckled the rim, nearly cutting into your palms. A faint scent of smoke filled his nose, but he thought nothing of it. There was no fire. So, his attention was solely on you - you and the dark cloud looming above your head.

“(Y/N)?”

“Fuck! What the hell do you want?” You hissed. But, you instantly froze. You blinked, realizing the source of the voice. You slowly spun around to see Morpheus now in your home. His eyebrows knitted together slightly given your outburst. Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, Morpheus, I am so sorry about that, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Morpheus’s expression subtly returned back to its typical neutral state. “It’s okay. I startled you, I should have called before arriving.”

“No, no,” you sighed, rubbing your face. “I lashed out. I was frustrated and you popped in, so I unintentionally took it out on you.”

Morpheus strolled forward. His eyes casually peered around you to see the sink littered with charred ingredients. There was one explanation for your outburst. His eyes moved back to you. You still held your hands over your face as if blocking out the world. But, there had to be another reason. One mistake usually did not elicit such a response.

He reached up, and gently curled his fingers over your wrists. He slowly dragged your hands down so he could see your face. Tears prickled in your eyes. He frowned, a twitch of his lips. With his thumb, he carefully brushed away the tears that slid down your face.

“What bothers you?” He spoke softly, trying to comfort you.

You immediately leaned into his kind touch. “It … it has just been a rough week.”

“Tell me.” Taking your hands, he guided you over to the couch. He sat down first - measured and precise - while you flopped down in a huff. His hands, however, never left yours. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles on the back of your hands. “What has happened?”

You scoffed, a breathy sarcastic laugh. “What hasn’t happened? For starters, work has been awful. I swear everything I touched broke, not to mention all the rude customers that came through the shop.”

You sniffled, your throat constricted as you fought ferociously against the wave of tears. Morpheus - your sweet Morpheus - said not a word, listening intently and watching as your expression slowly fell.

“Then - then I had a list of chores I needed to do. But, the dishwasher - the stupid thing - broke and I hand-washed everything only to break more plates and bowls.” You dropped your head, and gripped Morpheus’s hands tighter. Fuck. Don’t cry, don’t cry. “Then I tried to make dinner only to burn it and - fuck.”

It truly all sounded idiotic and childish out loud.

Morpheus cupped your cheek with one hand, delicately tipping your head back. Seeing your red rimmed eyes, his heart clenched. How can he fix this? “It’s okay,” he repeated the same words from earlier, although it tasted sour on his tongue. It held no true weight. “Mistakes happen.”

“But, it feels like I can’t do anything right,” you mumbled bitterly. “It’s like I’m cursed, everything I touch breaks.”

Morpheus smiled softly, slightly amused by your statement. He knew how to fix this now. He took both of your hands, and brought them to his lips. He gently kissed your knuckles - soft butterfly kisses. His eyes flickered up, watching you intensely with those vast twinkling baby blue eyes. “Have I broken, love?”

Your heart skipped at his piercing gaze; yet as love and adoration flowed through, it was quickly followed by confusion as his odd question ran through your head. “Well, no, I guess -“

“No, I have not,” he assured you. He maneuvered your hands, showing your palms to him. He bent down, kissing them. “You, my love, are not cursed. My dear sibling has simply destined you for minor inconveniences for a short while. Nothing more, nothing less, and most definitely not a curse.”

You grumbled a bit to yourself, but a smile started to tug on your lips. With each of his kisses, your anger and sorrow melted away. The tension in your jaw vanished and the tears started to dry up. Oh, how simple gestures from him could render you into a puddle. Oh, how easy he could make you forget all your worries.

“In fact,” he kissed your inner wrist, “I would say these hands have the capability of healing and fixing, not breaking.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together. “What do you mean?”

Morpheus leaned in towards you, staring deeply into your eyes. “They have healed me.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze. “Morpheus -“

“It’s true.” He cut you off. He grabbed your hand, laying it on his chest - on his beating heart. “You know the misery I have endured, you know of my past, and yet you welcomed all those broken pieces.”

His words warmed your heart, such a dizzying and absolutely wonderous feeling. You turned your head, beginning to feel bashful.

Morpheus delicately grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, guiding your attention back to him. “You are capable of many things, more so than you can imagine. Please, forgive yourself for your mistakes and allow yourself to breathe.”

He leaned in slowly, kissing you softly. You hummed, falling apart at his touch. Short, but oh so sweet and all-consuming. He pulled away from the brief kiss, smiling at you. His thumb gently ran over your bottom lip then moved up your face as he cupped your cheek again. Your eyes were filled with love, the same love reflected in his endless eyes.

Morpheus kissed the tip of your nose, and pressed his forehead to yours. “I will be here whenever you need help.”

You smiled at him, a bright and full smile. A smile you had not shown in over a week. “Thank you.”

Morpheus’s heart swelled at such a beautiful sight. His love who pulled him from a dark time, his love he would greatly return the favor. He kissed your forehead.

“Anytime, my love.” Any frustration you held was gone, only love stayed. Your tears now long dried, and if they ever returned he would wipe them away as always. “Do you want my help in making dinner?” He offered.

You paused, considering it for a moment. However, you shook your head. You twisted around, pressing your back into his chest. You tugged his arms and wrapped them around you. Sighing in relief, you snuggled into his chest, grateful for his warmth. “In a minute. I just need a moment.”

Morpheus smiled, leaning back into the couch with you safe in his arms. His love, the one who holds his heart. He kissed the top of your head. “Of course, take all the time you need.”

You closed your eyes with a smile on your lips. Maybe this week has finally turned around.

#the sandman #sandman dream #dream of the endless #Morpheus #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #dream x gn!reader #morpheus x gn!reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

[teabutmakeitazure]

Dead End

>Yan! Pantalone x Fem! Reader

Warnings: human trafficking, auctioning people, amnesia, blood, slight gore, possessive behaviour, drugging, undressing when unconscious

Word count: 3.8k

Part 2

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There’s a different kind of disgusting stench that places like these have. No matter how much expensive perfume these sick people may use, their crimes can’t be covered up. Even someone like you who’s blindfolded can see the smile on their faces. They’re horrid people with even worse crimes tainting the pure white of their conscience. How did you get mixed with them? You aren’t sure. There’s a huge hole in your memory and it’s filled with more emotions than faces or events, but here you are, being pushed along in a line, and suddenly thrown onto what you assume is the stage.

A bright light shines on you, stinging your eyes even through the blindfold. The rope tying your hands together doesn’t budge no matter how much you struggle. Suddenly, someone behind you shoves you before you’re harshly pushed to kneel down as they undo your blindfold. There’s hushed whispers and someone announcing large numbers. As your eyes adjust to the lighting, you can see the blurred faces of the crowd, some gasping at the amount of money others are willing to spend. From the looks of it, it seems like you aren’t worth much.

“Three hundred grand. Any other bids?”

Another man raises his bid, eliciting another surprised gasp from the crowd. A few seconds of silence pass and you’re starting to feel anxious. If you were to be sold to that old hag, your life would be over. Despite their age, they never die early and who knows what kind of lewd or horrible things he would put you through. Maybe a woman would be better, old or young, you don’t care. Just someone who’s careless enough to let you have some autonomy would be sufficient and you could-

“Ten thousand grand…? Well, is anyone here with a higher bid?”

Your eyes immediately start scanning the crowd so see who that was. If someone can throw around so much mora carelessly, they’re probably someone important. There’s nothing except fancy clothes and masked faces in your view but before you could look more, the person behind you harshly grabs your hair and drags you offstage. The auction is over and now, the last good has been sold to the highest bidder.

The thought of the impending doom makes you nauseous. Well, it can’t be worse than being with that gang, can it?

Your consolation was immediately strangled to death when you were handed over to masked Fatui guards. The red hood, pyro delusion and red glowing eyes only exacerbated your anxiety. Maybe you could play coy, make them think you’re a scared little girl. It’s a far stretch but it could work. Rich people like these have too much time on their hands and only want something to play with. If you can play their games, you have a shot at winning them. Remember. Bat your eyelashes if you must but never let your tongue loose. It’s the only way to survive, you remind yourself.

The two men lead you to a room without even laying a finger on you. You had simply followed them, perfectly familiar with what rebelling can cause for a person in your shoes. One of them remains outside and the other stands near the door on the inside. You’re told to sit down at the table in the centre and wait. The room you’re in right now is foreign to you. Its walls aren’t as dilapidated as the rest of the building’s but it’s not exactly comforting either. The grey paint over the red brick is poorly done and you can see most of the wall. You sigh, bringing your tied up hands to rest on the table.

At least the guard isn’t watching you like a hawk. That would’ve been extremely uncomfortable and scary considering his appearance. The red and black colour scheme with those glowing eyes is something not even your nightmares can conjure up. A minute passes, then two and the guard looks like he’s straining to hear something through the door.

Loud screams coming from outside make your heart drop and cause you to start hyperventilating in fear. Was this all a ploy? Some sort of trick or facade of the nation’s government to squash these black market patrons? What does this mean for you? There isn’t a reason for them to kill you as well! You were sold. They have no reason to kill you. The screams get louder and louder and you anxiously look over to the guard with a pleading expression. He merely tilts his head at you and goes back to staring at the floor.

You start bouncing your leg in apprehension, suddenly dizzy at the unholy amount of fear that’s coursing through your veins even after the screams die down. At your obviously fearful demeanour, the guard opens his mouth to speak but before any consolation can be voiced, the door opens. Your eyes anxiously land on the man who walks in. Jet black cloak over what you assume is a turtleneck, only his face and neck are visible as the cloak covers him till his toes.

“My lord,” the guard bows before excusing himself and leaving the room. The both of you then engage in a short lived staring contest, the dim light giving his dark, wavy hair a shine as his glasses remain under the shadow of the hair that falls on his face. There’s a little smile on his face as he eyes your fearful exterior. Is this the man you’ve been sold to?

He leisurely walks over and takes a seat opposite to you, and you try your hardest to ignore the blood on his right cheek. The scenario oddly resembles an interrogation, but you’re just thankful that he isn’t here to kill you… probably. As he casually rests his face on both of his gloved hands, you can’t help but feel as though he’s staring right through you. His dark eyes hold some sort of unspoken promise that thinly veils the anger behind them. You somehow feel as though you know that stare.

“Do you recognise me?”

The smooth voice is comforting in the way that it sounds human. You don’t have the strength to answer him verbally yet, so you settle with a headshake, watching as he wipes his face clean with his gloved hand.

“Really? I’m quite famous around here.” He leans back into the chair, arms now crossed. There’s not a single inch of his skin visible. “Have you never even heard anyone mention ‘The Regrator’?”

You shake your head, clearly oblivious to what he’s talking about. You don’t recall ever hearing such a name or title.

“Ah, it’s a shame, isn’t it? I thought that if you knew or even remembered who I am, it would have made this more interesting.”

The sudden change in tone prompts you to stay silent, deciding to only answer him when necessary. The rings on his fingers scream wealth and you’re not someone who would want to get on his wrong side in the first meeting.

“Drop the act. If you’re going to act this oblivious and innocent, you might as well try your luck at clawing the brick walls with your hands.”

…What?

“Did you not hear me? Your acting skills are more deplorable than I remember. Has all this time with those rats really turned you into this mess?”

Remember… wait. No, this can’t be. His words prove your guess and all the dots connect. No one in that gang knew about your memories, so there’s no way he could be taking advantage of it! If there’s no one who knows about your amnesia, no one can manipulate you using it. That’s the main reason why you had never mentioned it, even going as far as to fabricate that story about your family dying. He’s talking to you like he knows you. There has to be some connection between you and this man. Why else would he pay ten thousand grand for you?

Tears are streaming down your cheeks now. Despite your throat starting to close up, you choke out a question, “Do you… know who I am?”

The man’s eyes widened for a second, obviously caught off guard. That reaction proves that he wasn’t expecting that. If someone had been manipulating you, they wouldn’t be able to show that flicker of surprise, for the entire conversation would have been predicted beforehand.

Still, he quickly regains his composure and leans toward you. “Please stop the theatrics. Manipulation and lies never looked good on you despite how much you liked using them”

“I’m not lying!”

He raises a brow, silently urging you to continue.

“I’m telling the truth. I… I don’t remember anything from three months ago till a few years back. I suddenly woke up in Jueyun Karst at the camp of a pilgrim and then we got attacked-”

“You were in Liyue?”

“Yes?”

He sighs loudly, massaging his temples in annoyance before looking back over to you with a stern look. “Consider yourself very fortunate for the lost memories. Had you still been the woman who betrayed me three months ago, I would never have spared you for misplacing my trust so atrociously.”

The cold tone of his voice makes you shudder. If there’s one thing you’ve learnt about him, it’s to not piss him off. He seems like the type to hold grudges and have a short temper, a horrible combination for someone with power.

“What did I do?”

“What did you not do?”

Silence.

“I’m sorry for my actions, if that counts.”

“That sentiment of yours is equivalent to patting someone on the back after they get stabbed,” he scoffs.

“...”

“Look what they did to you. You’re an absolute mess. I shall take you to where I’m staying as soon as the carriage is ready.”

“Staying? Do you not live here?”

“This is Fontaine, my dear. I chased you all the way from the Sumeru desert to Fontaine. I hadn't the slightest idea that you ended up in Liyue or else I would’ve found you earlier. Seems like whatever you did, you managed to escape my information channels. I did right to start calling you a vixen. You had managed to go all the way from Snezhnaya to the land of the Archon of geo. Impressive, I must say.”

“We’re in Fontaine?”

He tilts his head, “Did you not know that?”

“I haven’t seen where we are in a month.”

“Ah, do not worry. With you back at my side, you’ll be safe and properly cared for.”

Somehow the promise sounds like a prospect at a better life. You vividly remember a few things from your intact memories. It’s mostly a blur to you, only filled with emotions. This man’s presence is protective. Intuition tells you that he might just be the light at the end of the tunnel. Though he’s mysterious and wealthy, he looks a lot better than the other men in the crowd. Speaking of the crowd…

“Why was there so much screaming earlier?”

He merely smiles amusedly, “I was just teaching some people a lesson. Nothing you need to concern yourself over.”

“Right… I never caught your name.”

“I go by many titles but you, my dear, may call me Pantalone. I am the ninth of the eleven Fatui Harbingers, and your husband.”

“Husband…?” And a Fatui harbinger?

“Yes. However, I’m unsure whether your amnesia would invalidate the marriage. Well [Name], why don’t we simply just get married again?”

The fact that you didn’t give him your name is more proof that he knew you. Despite all the clear signs of your past relationship with him, you can’t help but feel a little hesitant to jump into this so suddenly.

“I'm sorry but… this is all too much to take in.” You can feel your head spinning again, the air suddenly too heavy to breathe in. You had married someone, a Fatui harbinger of all people. They’re the most dangerous people in all of Teyvat. That means the guards were higher ranked as well. No wonder they looked so terrifying.

“You needn’t fret. There’s no reason for me to cast you aside after all you went through. I loved you back then, and I still love you now. I’ll give you some time to adjust, until we’re back in Snezhnaya. Once there, we’ll go through the proper proceedings and you can sign the marriage papers again.”

“Wait. I never said that I would-”

“The both of us will resume our lives and forget about what you had done to me and all the damage you caused. I’m certain that you don’t have any objections, hm? Unless you’re willing to take on the punishments for your actions.”

You swallow any protest, opting to play good instead. Maybe an opportunity will present itself later. Heck, he might not even be as bad as you’re assuming him to be. Only time will tell. All you have to do right now is play nice. You’ve seen how the others ended up for not cooperating. An opportunity at a better life has come to you itself and you would be a fool to ruin it.

Pantalone seems a lot better than those rascals in the gang. All they did was threaten you and treat you like livestock. He seems better. If you had married him, he must’ve been a well mannered man. As for you doing whatever he claims you did… you can’t be certain.

“Something on your mind, dearest?”

“Nothing in particular,” you say as you eye your now burning wrists. The skin is red and angry, almost starting to bleed from being tied up for so long. The rope has been digging into your wrists for quite some time now, but you’re used to being tied up and treated like this. Voicing any of your concerns led to a blade to your neck just a day ago, so it’s quite normal in your eyes for you to be wary of speaking what’s on your mind.

The harbinger in front of you probably knows what your concerns are, but he doesn’t speak of it. Instead, he merely unsheathes the knife strapped to his waist and brings the blade near your hands. Eyes widening in panic, you fail to understand his motives but quickly relax when he releases your hands from confinement, tenderly touching the raw skin.

“I will make sure to get your hands treated properly. Not even a scar should remain on such beautiful skin.”

As he holds your hands in his own, you find yourself at conflict between relaxing or staying vigilant. For all you know, he could be sweet talking to you. He doesn’t seem the type to do that but appearances don’t reveal everything about a person. Pantalone doesn’t move an inch when a voice calls out from the outside, telling him that the carriage is ready.

You mentally beckon the room and entire building goodbye as you stand up on unsteady legs and trail behind him. As the door opens, your gaze is fixed on the hallway that leads to the outside, to salvation and freedom. Not even bothering to look anywhere else, you trip on something with the grace of a goose, silently thanking the Archons when Pantalone catches you in his arms.

“Careful, my dear. Please watch your step.” You look down to see what it could’ve been that tripped you, but you did not expect to see a severed hand coated in blood to be lying there. Bile rises up your throat at the sight and when you look around, you see the brick red walls painted in a disgusting shade of crimson. Multiple bloodied bodies lay around, some mutilated and some even unrecognisable. You recoil at the sight, chest heaving as adrenaline starts pumping through your body. No matter how nauseous you feel and how hard you press your hand on your mouth to stop yourself from gagging, you can’t look away.

It’s horrifying to look at and it hurts even more to know that he did this. When you take a step back, a trail of blood is made but before you can give any other reaction, you’re pulled inside Pantalone’s cloak and shielded from the bloodbath around you. The harbinger lovingly pats your head as he covers your view with the fabric, even going as far as to plant a kiss on your sweaty forehead.

“Though all this was done for you, you needn’t concern yourself with it. I assure you that these people were nobodies. Come now. It’s getting late.”

He pulls your arm and guides you outside as you remain under his cloak. When the moonlight falls on your face, a huge wave of relief washes over you. One nightmare is over. What comes next is only uncertainty. As you enter the carriage, you can only think about your friends who had either been killed or sold off before you, wishing to know how the latter are doing.

When Pantalone sits right beside you in the carriage, you don’t utter a word. When he gently pushes your head to rest on his shoulder, you simply let him. If he’s that dangerous, you might as well stay in his good graces. Thankfully, no words were exchanged on the way to wherever he’s staying. He had pulled you inside his cloak again to shield you from any wandering eyes, even being as bold as to rest his hand on your waist and ask you to keep your gaze lowered.

You arrive inside what you assume is his hotel room, and that’s when the dread really settles in. This is his hotel room. Which means that you’re alone with him in the middle of the night, a man you don’t remember marrying who is also one of the most dangerous men currently alive.

The Regrator leisurely walks around, hanging his cloak on the coat rack and peeling off his gloves without bothering to remove the rings. You, meanwhile, awkwardly watch him with your hands behind your back as you stand near the door of the luxurious room. No words filled the overwhelmingly loud silence as he disappeared around the corner. Ironically, the sound of running water had made you realise just how parched you were, silently praying that he’d get you some water without you having to ask.

Just as quickly as you had finished the thought, he called out for you to seat yourself at the dining table. After washing his hands, Pantalone returns with a first aid kit, a wet rag and a glass of water, taking a seat right next to you. The displeased expression on his face as he wiped your face was hard to ignore.

“What is the use of all this mora if my own wife is reduced to this mess?” He tuts, “This won’t do. I’ll order a change of clothes for you after I’m done assessing any injuries of yours.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Just call me by my title, dear.”

“Alright.”

The rest of his actions proceed in silence, his eyes making up for most of the talking. He looks obviously displeased and you can sense a lot of bottled up anger in him. However, that’s not what’s bothering you. It’s his hands. How tenderly they hold yours and how soft they are to touch. It’s a bit counter-intuitive. A Fatui harbinger, a man who just killed that entire crowd of people and the staff has hands with such tenderness in them.

Your thoughts are short lived as he soon gets up after bandaging your wrists, heading for the door presumably to ask for some clothing. With a sigh, you drink the water on the table, wincing as you feel a slight difference in taste but brushing it off as being dehydrated for so long. Despite having the urge to look around, you decide to remain seated. The amount of luxury in this one room alone is too much for you to digest.

“Now that all that is settled, I can finally get to the important details.”

He soon appears, tall and imposing as he walks over to you. As he towers above you, a hand grabs your shoulder and the other one grabs your chin as he looks down at you condescendingly.

“Where have they touched you? Tell me where those filthy rats had the audacity to lay their hands.”

What?

“Answer me, or shall I remind you of what you missed in the past three months?”

“They didn’t do anything.”

He clicks his tongue, anger quite evident on his face. “Do you expect me to not know when you’re lying?”

“I swear! They never did anything to me. They weren’t interested. All they did was tug and throw me around at times.”

“Where did those vermin touch you?.”

You take a deep breath, his grip on your chin getting stronger and borderline painful. “My arms and hair. A-and my shoulders were grabbed at times too. That’s it. I swear.”

“You are the most important thing I have ever owned.” He releases your chin, cupping your cheek for a moment till his hand goes to your throat and settles on your collarbones. “Being my most valuable asset, I will not tolerate anyone else putting their filthy hands or eyes on you. Considering that you no longer remember, I shall give you a reminder. You are mine. You are for my hands to touch and my eyes to look at. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes. I understand.” Your eyes start to turn glossy at the nth adrenaline rush of the night as fear seeps into your bones again. There’s a heaviness in your eyelids and you’re starting to get slightly dizzy. This night is too much. You can’t take anything else.

“When I first got the information that you’re with a human trafficking gang, I had assumed that you had gotten yourself sold already. Imagine my surprise when I found out that you were so obedient that they decided to keep you until Fontaine. They fetch higher prices here so naturally they sell better quality as well. Where did all your bite go? You’re a smart woman. Escaping from those monkeys would have been child’s play to you.”

“I didn’t want to end up like the others.”

“So you gave in to fear and did what you were told? Ah, so naive. It’ll be quite entertaining to harden you again. I can hardly wait to catch up on what we missed.”

As your vision starts blurring, Pantalone is quick to grab your shoulders to stop you from falling off the chair. In your semi conscious state, you can make out being taken to the bed but you’re out like a light when he starts undressing you. Light at the end of the tunnel? What a joke. There is no tunnel. It’s a dead end.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #pantalone x reader #yandere pantalone #yandere pantalone x reader #regrator x reader #yandere regrator #yandere regrator x reader

[thecreaturecodex]

Doctor Agatha Shiny

Image © @iguanodont

[Writing this entry was very cathartic. Doctor Shiny is not only my Villain OC (and trust me, there's nothing even remotely redeeming about her), but also a way to process the trauma I experienced in grad school. You may have noticed that "collegial mad scientists" are a recurring theme in my work; Doctor Shiny is their boss in the Inner Sea, at least as far as mere mortals go. I’ve been meaning to create a Legion of Doom in my campaigns, and this is as good an excuse as I’m likely to get. As one of the most powerful alchemists on Golarion, I gave Doctor Shiny access to a ton of weird extracts; I'm just posting a link to the Archives of Nethys master list than linking to them individually.

Also? Without any visual reference, Iguanodont managed to make Doctor Shiny look an awful lot like me. Spooky.]

Doctor Agatha Shiny CR 20 NE Humanoid This woman is fat and cheerful, her brown hair done up in a messy ponytail. She is dressed in a lab coat, heavy gloves and boots. Two tentacles grow from her back, each studded with sightless eyes.

Everyone in Absalom knows who Doctor Agatha Shiny is; she’s a celebrity scientist. Head of the Biology Department at Endiron School in Eastgate, her lectures on everything from diet to material science to biodiversity are popular and well attended by the public for entertainment and education purposes. Her column, “Ask Doctor Shiny”, is carried by several broadsheets and circulations. “Ask Doctor Shiny” is a slang phrase in Absalom meaning roughly, “how should I know?” Her various grad students and colleagues have nothing but nice things to say about her. Because the ones who talk out of turn have a habit of ending up dead or transformed.

Despite her jolly exterior, Doctor Shiny is a sadist of the highest caliber, and someone who is disgusted with humanity in general. It is her studied opinion that humans have been the dominant species on Golarion for far too long, and the ultimate aim of her research is to find a suitable replacement. Her primary laboratory for these experiments is the Puddles, which is increasingly home to murderous monsters of her own design. Doctor Shiny and the headmaster of her college, Tontartigan Dellby, have a system of mutual blackmail; both knows the broad strokes of each other’s schemes, enough to expose and humiliate the other if pushed. Agatha knows that she would win any conflict if it were to arise—she would merely shred Dellby with her bare hands and replace him with a simulacrum that obeyed her every command.

Doctor Shiny’s main lab is underground at Endiron School, but she maintains laboratories throughout Absalom and the entire Inner Sea region, each one of which has a doppelganger simulacrum she can project her mind into. Each lab is a facility for collecting monsters from the region, running tests on their physical and magical properties, and incorporating their characteristics into fleshwarped abominations. Her raw materials for fleshwarping often include those aforementioned recalcitrant students, as well as indigents, adventurers and other people who go unmissed. Those that would be missed are replaced with simulacra, or turned into dominated sleeper agents. Doctor Shiny has done some self-experimentation; tentacles grow from her back (she keeps these under her lab coat in her role as a public figure), and her internal organs are no longer fully human.

Like any good scientist, Doctor Shiny maintains a network of colleagues, almost all of whom are just as depraved as she is. Her Number One Minion is a blue slaad named Ranna, who was once a graduate student named Marina Rhinne, and to most of the world is still known by that name and identity. Ranna serves Doctor Shiny as an assassin, collection agent and lover. Doctor Shiny was the first contact point in Absalom for a species of fleshwarping monsters from Sarusan who have decided that the Inner Sea is ripe for their exploitation—these are the zern. She is also the chair of CIS, the Committee for Ingenious Science. CIS is a network of mad scientists throughout Avistan and Garund who occasionally report on their findings and brainstorm new ways to exert their will on the world. And lastly, Agatha Shiny is a religious woman. Her primary deity is Shub Nugganoth, but she sees the Goat of the Woods as the leader of a small pantheon of gods and demigods devoted to nightmares of evolution and knowledge at any cost. These six deities are the kyton demagogue Raetorgash, the sahkil tormentor The Vermillion Mother, the daemonic harbinger Deceid, the demon lord Abraxas, Shub Nugganoth and her green (wo)man daughter, Briarpatch. Doctor Shiny refers to these six as the Xammux, a zern word meaning “council”.  

New Material: Shoggomer Shoggomer is one of Doctor Shiny’s miscellaneous inventions, although she typically refers to it as “self repairing polymer” in public. It is a form of latex, made with both tree sap and fleshwarping reagents derived from shoggoth ichor. Shoggomer can be used to make clothing, or any form of armor typically made from leather, hide or fur. As it is flexible, it cannot be used to make shields or typically metal armors. Shoggomer armor reduces its spell failure chance by 10%, increases max Dexterity bonuses by 2, and decreases armor check penalties by 2. Materials made of shoggomer heal at a rate of 2 hit points per day, or 1 per day if they have the broken condition. While healing, shoggomer materials manifest sightless eyes, small mouths or small flapping tendrils—this both institutes an armor check penalty of 2 when worn, and creatures within 30 feet must succeed a DC 15 Will save or be shaken for 1 minute by the eerie sight. A creature is only affected by the fear effect of repairing shoggomer once in a 24 hour period, whether it succeeds or fails the save. Shoggomer items are always of masterwork quality

Type of Shoggomer Item       Item Price Modifier Clothing                                    +750 gp Light armor                               +1000 gp Medium armor                           +1500 gp Other items                               +450 gp/pound

Doctor Agatha Shiny    CR 20 XP 307,200 NE Medium humanoid (human) Human alchemist (clone master) 20 Init +7; Senses Perception +23; true seeing Defense AC 31, touch 18, flat-footed 28 (+3 Dex, +5 deflection, +5 natural, +8 armor) hp 273 (20d8+180); fast healing 5 Fort +26, Ref +21, Will +14; +4 vs. poison Immune alignment and thought detection Defensive Abilities fortification (25%) Offense Speed 40 ft. Melee spirit blade +23/+18/+13 (1d4+7 plus 1d6 acid/19-20), 2 tentacles +23 (1d4+7) Ranged +1 seeking light crossbow +20 (1d8+1/19-20) or bombs +19/+14/+9 touch (10d4+10 fire) Extracts Prepared CL 20th 6th—beast shape IV, caging bomb admixture, heal (x2), monstrous physique IV, transformation, verminous transformation 5th—dream, greater claim identity (DC 25), overland flight, planar adaptation, simulacrum, spell resistance, undead anatomy II 4th—caustic blood (DC 24), cure critical wounds, death ward, enchantment foil, fluid form, freedom of movement, restoration, touch of slime (DC 24) 3rd—absorb toxicity (DC 23), arcane sight, countless eyes, displacement, dragon turtle shell, heroism, protection from energy, voluminous vocabulary 2nd—animal aspect, delay poison, false life, invisibility, lesser restoration, spider climb, venomous bite, vine strike (DC 22) 1st—anticipate peril, bomber’s eye, cure light wounds, disguise self, polypurpose panacea, shield (x2), targeted bomb admixture Special Attacks bombs (30/day, DC 30), mutagen (+8/+6/+4 ability scores, +6 natural armor) Statistics Str 18, Dex 16, Con 26, Int 30, Wis 14, Cha 20 Feats Craft Construct (B), Craft Wondrous Item, Extra Discovery (x2), Fleshwarper, Improved Initiative, Magical Aptitude, Master Craftsman (Craft: alchemy), Multiattack, Point Blank Shot, Power Attack, Precise Shot Skills Bluff +24, Craft (alchemy) +37, Diplomacy +26, Disable Device +31, Disguise +26, Fly +21, Heal +25, Knowledge (arcana, nature) +31, Knowledge (dungeoneering, local, planes) +28, Linguistics +18, Perception +23, Perform (oratory) +26, Spellcraft +31, Survival +23, Use Magic Device +30 Languages Aboleth, Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Daemonic, Draconic, Gnoll, Infernal, Kelesh, Orisian, Senzar, Slaad, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Undercommon, Varisian, Zern SQ alchemy, discoveries (alchemical simulacrum, doppelganger simulacrum, fast bombs, fast healing, feral mutagen, greater mutagen, grand mutagen, infusion, preserve organs, promethean disciple, sleeper agent, tanglefoot bomb, tentacle [x2]), instant alchemy, legendary, persistent mutagen, poison use, rebirth, swift poison Gear manual of gainful exercise +5 (expended), tome of clear thought +4 (expended), headband of mental superiority +6 (Diplomacy, Disguise, Perform (oratory), belt of physical perfection +4, +5 shoggomer studded leather armor of improved electricity resistance, spirit blade, +1 seeking light crossbow, vest of the ultimate alchemist (counts as greater poisoner’s jacket, vest of stable mutation and vest of surgery), amulet of natural armor +5/mighty fists +5, truesight goggles, deliquescent/poisoner’s gloves, charlatan’s lab coat of resistance +5, ring of protection +5, ring of mind shielding and sustenance, boots of striding and springing, boro beads (1 4th level, 2 3rd level, 2 1st level), cauldron of brewing, pale green ioun stone, scroll of greater teleport (x3), 20 bolts, 100,000 gp worth of alchemical reagents and poisons, alchemist’s lab, formula book (as prepared, plus true seeing, clone, greater invisibility, eyes of the void, neutralize poison, stoneskin, claim identity, lesser simulacra, nondetection, water breathing, barkskin, bear’s endurance, blur, bull’s strength, cat’s grace, eagle’s splendor, fox’s cunning, owl’s wisdom, undetectable alignment, crafter’s fortune, identify, touch of the sea), 645 gp. Special Abilities Legendary (Ex) Doctor Shiny’s statistics are built on 25 point buy and she has the gear of a 20th level PC. These advantages increase her CR by +1 Mutagen (Su) Doctor Shiny’s mutagens are built to grant her a +8 bonus to Strength, +6 to Constitution and +4 to Dexterity. With her mutagen (and her vest of the ultimate alchemist), her statistics are as follows: Init +9; AC 39, touch 20, flat-footed 35; hp 333; Fort +29, Ref +23; Melee spirit blade +27/+22/+17 (1d4+11 plus 1d6 acid/19-20), claw +26 (1d6+9 plus 1d6 acid), bite +26 (1d8+9), 2 tentacles +26 (1d4+9); Str 26, Dex 20, Con 32; Skills Fly +23

#doctor shiny #alchemist #pathfinder 1e #pathfinder rpg #monster girl summer #npc #age of monsters #age of monsters spoilers #body horror #mad scientist #transformation #cthulhu mythos #shub nugganoth

[after-witch]

Duplexity  [Yandere Nobunaga x Reader]

Title: Duplexity  [Yandere Nobunaga x Reader]

Synopsis: Your boyfriend Nobunaga is loyal and caring and always makes you feel loved. He’s also a murderer. 

Word Count: 3009

notes: Yandere, unhealthy relationship, mention of murder, some non-graphic blood/violence

Your boyfriend Nobunaga loves to make you dinner, and always make sure it’s something that will get your taste buds singing. Your boyfriend Nobunaga has a soft, sweet sense of humor that never fails to cheer you up when you’re in a bad mood. Your boyfriend Nobunaga is loyal and caring, and always makes you feel loved. 

Your boyfriend Nobunaga is a murderer. 

If you were to guess, and it’s not something you care to do, you might suppose that he’s killed hundreds. Maybe more? He is part of the infamous Phantom Troupe, after all, and they weren’t exactly known for a lack of excess when it came to piles of corpses.

Sometimes you wonder . If your boyfriend is a murderer, what does that make you? An accomplice? A witness? Or someone who has terrible, disgusting knowledge and does nothing with it.

But that’s not quite true, is it? You do something with things you know, the little things you glean when he’s home. A speckle of blood he missed on his cheek. A bruise, a cut, the tiniest fray in the fabric of his clothes. The cagey expression as he looks away when you asked what he did while he was gone. The way your stomach clenches when you watch him sleep, and wonder--what did he look like, when he was taking someone’s life?

You bury all of these things (and so much more) deep, deep down and pretend that they don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. 

If you left them out in the open, they might fester and rot. They would stink. At least, shoved inside the crevices of your heart, you can pretend they don’t exist. For a while.

Because, really--just how much can someone bury before it comes bursting out at the seams, all slime and horror?

--

He’s been gone a few weeks. It’s not unusual. His business takes him places where you can’t, and wouldn’t care to, go for long stretches of time. Sometimes a few days. Sometimes weeks. On one occasion, months. You don’t like to think about that time, because you were sure he was dead, and even the sight of his hesitant smile in the doorway couldn’t shake away the dread you’d felt for those months.

But today, his arrival is expected. In fact, he’s a few days early, which is a nice surprise. You miss him when he’s gone, of course.

But… you miss him even more when he’s gone for more than a few days, and sometimes, you think it’s because the longer he’s away, the more likely it is that he’s doing something particularly awful. Isn’t that sick? You would rather he be gone for three days, and perhaps kill one or two targets, than be gone for weeks and engage in a whole host of unknown mystery horrors.

He’d never confirm what he did while he was away, even if you asked.

You never ask.

And now, you push all thoughts of what he might have been doing aside, because he’s setting down his bag on the table next to the door and giving you a grin that makes your stomach flutter. You’ve missed that grin so much, and you can’t help the grin that breaks out on your own face as you rush to greet him. 

No words are exchanged yet, and they don’t need to be. You simply press your lips against his own and welcome the familiar feeling, the warmth that you’ve come to love from his mouth, from his body, from his very aura. 

His hands wrap around your back and pull you closer.

“Miss me that much?” He asks, all soft words. His smile is tired and relieved.

You shake your head, teasing, the grin still on your face. “Nope. Totally fine without you.”

He raises his eyebrows in mock horror. “Wow. You really didn’t miss me, huh?

You quirk your head and keep up the grin. “Oh no, not at all. I didn’t sleep with a big pillow next to me on the bed because I missed snuggling, or talk to myself while I cooked because I missed our conversations. Nothing like that at all.”

He laughs, shaking his head, pulling himself from you only to lead you over to the comfortable couch--your favorite spot. For snuggling, for watching movies together, and occasionally falling asleep on purpose so that he will cradle you before picking you up and tucking you into bed. 

You should probably ask him if you want something to eat, but you’d rather just hold him for now. And let him hold you. Your body finds its familiar comfort entangled in his limbs, your head resting against his chest while he embraces you, snug and firm.

“Will you have to leave again soon?” You inwardly cringe at the question, even as you ask it. You didn’t mean to lead with something needy, but constantly being separated from your boyfriend could take a toll on you over time. You hated it when he came home only to stay for a few days and leave again. 

He hums, and hugs you tighter.

“Shouldn’t be for a while.” You want to ask--How long is a while?--but you don’t. He seems to sense your question and strokes your hair. “Not for a few weeks. Plenty of time, don’t you think?”

You nod, even as a small part of you thinks that no, it’s not plenty of time, actually. None of your friends, no one you knew, had to deal with their boyfriend leaving like this. Sure, maybe one of their husbands took a business trip once a year.

But that was different from Nobunaga weaving in and out of your life. And sometimes, even when he said he was going to stay for awhile, he got pulled away with something sudden. Those times hurt the most, especially if you had something special planned. And he always tried to make it up to you, but it didn’t erase the hurt.

Or the nagging thought--what was it he did, this time, when he was pulled away? What sort of “work emergencies'' did the Phantom Troupe have? It couldn’t be anything good. And when he came back, your eyes would always search for those little things. Blood, wounds, something. Anything, however small, that might tell you where he’d been, and what he’d done. 

The arms around you right now could have been wielding a weapon just a day ago. They could have held a sword that sliced through someone’s body like cheese, spilling blood and guts as someone’s life was drained out of their eyes. Nobunaga would have watched, impassive--or did he take pleasure in it? You tried to imagine that, tried to imagine him smirking as someone begged for their life, and--

“You got something on your mind?” There’s something worried but sharp in his tone. It cuts through your thoughts quick and easy.

You look up at him, feeling shaken, but feeling loved, too. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s a tired one. He should probably nap while you make dinner. Did he ever nap after he committed murder?

You sigh, and squeeze your eyes shut. You should stop thinking about things like that. You have to, if you want to make this work. 

“No,” you say, softly, leaning your head back down on his chest. “Sorry. I just missed you.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t be helped, sweetness. A man’s gotta work.”

“Mm-hmm.” You hum it out and pull him closer to you.

You don’t want to drag the feeling out--his or yours. It’s easier when you don’t. Instead you’ll think about what to do next. Put his stuff away. Make dinner. Do dishes. Take a shower. Head to the bedroom, if he’s up for it. Maybe pick a movie, if the two of you aren’t tired out. In fact, speaking of tired--

“Hey, Nobu?” You don’t wait for him to answer. “You should take a nap while I make dinner. Seems like you could use one.”

Another kiss to your head.

“Sounds good to me.” He sighs, and reluctantly loosens his grip so that you can get up to start on dinner. You’re dimly aware that he’s remained on the couch as you busy yourself with your tasks, murmuring softly as he stands--no doubt to head to your shared bedroom for that nap. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

--

Someone is inside your apartment. You know this because of a series of sounds that could not have occurred on their own. The sound of your front door shutting, quietly--the softest of clicks. The sound of feet on the wooden entryway. 

Soft sounds, sure. But Nobu had trained you enough on the importance of constant alertness for them to wake you up out of your deep sleep. For the sounds to create an alarm in your head, screaming--

Danger.

The world is both bleary and heavy and startling sharp for a few prolonged, agonizing moments. And then everything is so frighteningly clear that you feel like you’re not even inside your body as your hand reaches for your phone.

You should call the police.

But you need to know who’s there, for your own piece of mind. Even though you can practically hear Nobu in your head, asking you what the hell you were doing, it could be an assassin, it could be--

You ignore the mental buzz of the advice you know he would give and creep out of your bedroom, phone in hand, dialed to the police station and simply waiting for your thumb to press “send.”

But just as you’re about to call for the police, a voice calls out from the open kitchen. A familiar voice, hushed, reassuring--and firm.

“Hey. It’s me. Put your phone down now.”

Your hand trembles as you set your phone on the sofa.

“Nobu?” Your voice is just as shaky as your body. Nobu never came in unannounced. Ever. So why--

A muffled sound from the entryway draws your attention. And that feeling of adrenaline spikes again as your body jerks in surprise. It’s not just Nobu? It’s not just Nobu. So who--

There’s a man in the entryway. Slumped over. Bleeding. 

“Nobu?” Your eyes don’t leave the man, and your body twitches, instinctively wanting to run to him. But then Nobu’s hand is on your shoulder, and you stay put.

“Go to your room.” His voice is firm. You don’t have to turn to know that he’s wearing a simple, calm expression. One that expects you to listen.

You lick your lips. The man is hurt. He’s bleeding, badly. Maybe another member of the Troupe? 

“He’s hurt,” you say, as if Nobu has no idea that the man bleeding out in your apartment is injured in any way.

“Go to your room,” he repeats. 

The man coughs, and seems to come to a stronger awareness as he looks up at you for the first time. His eyes go wide. He looks so helpless.

“We have to call someone. The--the police. Or the hospital.” You turn, hands reaching out for your phone, but Nobu reaches out like lightning and grips your arm. He doesn’t squeeze, but he’s strong, and it hurts. He’s never touched you like this before.

“Babe,” he says, and the teasing term of endearment doesn’t sound anywhere near as lighthearted as it usually does. It sounds like a finger snapping, meant to break you out of some stupid reverie. 

Your mouth opens and closes, your head turns from the man to Nobu to your phone.

“The… police,” you say, quiet, confused. “The hospital?”

He shakes his head, and you’re so confused. And then you take a closer look at the man and everything clicks into place, clearly, terribly. 

The man’s legs and wrists are bound tight with rope. 

He was a victim, yes. But he was Nobu’s victim. 

The world falls out underneath you, but Nobunaga catches you, letting out a soft ‘hup’ as he lifts you up and gently sets you down on the couch. 

“Easy there,” he says, before his hand presses against your forehead. A dim thought of childhood comes to mind, of being sick, of your mom taking care of you. It’s swept away when you remember where you are and what’s happening.

You flinch, suddenly.

“Hey,” Nobu says, soft, like you’re something to be coaxed and calmed. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

You blink and blink, and Nobu’s face is there, dimly lit by the kitchen stove light and the small lap you like to keep on in the living room just in case you want to walk into the kitchen for a snack after bed.

“Take a breath,” Nobu says. And you do. Slow, like you’re at the doctor’s office. “There we go.” And Nobu’s smile is just as easy and sweet as it always is. Only now he’s giving it to you because you almost fainted after he brought back a bleeding man into your apartment and--

“Please, call the police,” a voice says. You know without looking that it’s the man. The dying man who Nobu dragged into your apartment. Would he kill him here? Oh God, what if one of your neighbors saw, what if someone sees--

Your throat feels like gravel when you swallow against your increasingly rapid breaths. This is too much. This is too much and you can’t handle it. It’s one thing to have the vague knowledge of the Troupe in your head, it’s one thing to see a frayed shirt and wonder. 

It’s another for a man to be bleeding out just a few feet away from you.

You can’t breathe. You don’t know what to do, until there’s strong hands on  your cheeks, pressing down just hard enough to get your attention. 

“Look at me.” Nobu’s voice is a lifeline and  you reach for it. “Just focus on me. You’re fine.”

And you look up at the face of your boyfriend, who looks so concerned. Not about the man (the blood--did Nobu cut him? Stab him? How hard? How many times?) but about you. Because he cares about you.

Because he loves you.

And you love him, too. Despite everything. Despite what’s happening here and now, in the darkness of your apartment.

Steady breaths come eventually. Nobu is so patient that it makes you feel guilty, because isn’t there something much more important he should be attending to right now? But instead he’s crouched on the couch, calming you down, stroking your face, whispering assurances until your heart isn’t trying to burst out of your chest and you aren’t choking on air.

“Help me,” the man says again, a pathetic, desperate, dying sound. 

You’re watching Nobu’s eyes as he says it, but his expression doesn’t change. There’s only the concern for you. 

When you let Nobu pull you to a standing position, the man wheezes. It might be a defeated sound. Or he might be finally dying.

You don’t know. It’s not your business. So you don’t think about it.

Instead you let Nobu pull you closer, patting your back, checking you over. 

“You okay?” He asks. And the question isn’t just about your dizziness or your panic attack. You know that.

He’s asking how you feel about the bleeding man he dragged into your apartment in the dead of night, and everything that entails. 

Your eyes search his; there are unspoken questions that someone other than you might have asked. Someone else might have asked: “What if I’m not okay with this? What if I want you to leave? What if I can’t be with a murderer?” Or other such sensible questions. Probably those same people wouldn’t have willingly stayed with Nobu after finding out who he is and what he does. 

But you aren’t those people. And the questions you might ask, the terrifying, frightened rabbit questions that are hammering at your chest so hard it makes you feel sick, get buried down with everything else. 

They won’t spill out. Not tonight. Not ever, if you can help it.

“Mm,” you hum, and even Nobu seems a little surprised at how lighthearted your tone is. 

“You sure?” He finally darts his gaze towards the man, who is breathing--labored, pained--but no longer doing much else. When his eyes return to yours, you’re already shrugging. 

“Yeah. You just scared me, that’s all. Coming in so late.” There’s a shaky laugh that doesn't feel like it comes from your own mouth, even though it does. “You hungry?” You offer a weak smile. “I can warm up leftovers, or--”

Nobu says your name, and you stop talking. He presses his hand to your forehead again, like you might be sick. But you’re not. You’re just… dealing with it. Aren’t you?

“Why don’t you go back to bed?” He says, after a while. “You need your sleep. I’ll be quiet, and then I’ll come back tomorrow night so we can talk about things, okay?”

Your stomach clenches for an instant, and you push it away. You nod, wondering how you’d ever fall back asleep after this. But maybe once the adrenaline wore off, you’d crash. Maybe it would all feel like a dream, when you woke up.

Or maybe not.

“Okay,” you say, sighing, stretching your arms. “Good night, Nobu.”

And then you quickly press your lips to his and kiss him first, because you want him to know that you’re okay. That you don’t hate him. That you aren’t going to call the police or turn him in. That things are going to be just fine.

Because he’s your boyfriend who cheers you up when you’re sad. Because he loves you, despite your faults. Because you love him.

That’s what love is, isn’t it? Taking the good with the bad. Even the very bad. Even the monstrous. 

If you couldn’t do that, then you wouldn’t have Nobu at all. You would be alone. 

No one wants to be alone, do they?

#yandere nobunaga #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #afterwitch writes

[yandere-sins]

Guard #400

a/n: It is time... for Pantalone ♥♥♥ I was actually really looking forward to this one lol, he just fits a little too well in this whole prison scheme (I guess all Harbingers do hahhaa). Also I won’t deny any longer just how badly I want to be railed by that guy. Just... just give him to me mhy, now, gimmi gimmi. If he ever does come out as a playable character I might just C6 him because damn. He’d demand it and I’d just be Sir, yes, Sir! Woof woof.

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Guard!Pantalone x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Dub-Con, Forced Exhibition, Slapping), Abuse of authority, Manipulation, Long Post

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

"So? Have you made your decision?"

Pantalone slowly rose from his chair, uncapped his fountain pen, and placed it on the paper you recognized as the contract he had offered you before. Gesturing his hand to the document, he added, "The offer still stands, but I'm not sure for how long."

He was growing impatient. You could hear it even through his honeyed, service voice, unfitting of a man in his position. The few slow strides were so confident, as if the contract's content didn't concern him in the least, no matter how nasty and inhumane it was. He was a man that knew what he wanted. And even worse: He knew he was going to get it.

Circling around you, you felt his warmth in your back, a hand brushing from your hip up your side, resting on your waist as he stepped up next to you from behind. "Let me guess—no one else wanted to employ you? Poor thing."

His taunt felt like an ice-cold blade stabbing into your gut, twisting around in the form of a delighted chuckle. Pantalone hadn't been your first choice of employer. You thought the chief of finances of the prison you had been sent to wouldn't have interest in someone locked up for embezzlement. But your options of other jobs had been so few, most of them refusing you even before you asked for a position, that eventually you put your doubts aside, trying your luck with this man. However, the job he had for you was more punishment than going to prison not guilty already was. You just wanted to earn some money to make your life here more comfortable and save some for the hardships you'd face once you got out.

He wanted a sex slave.

As disturbing and straightforward as that. Things in this prison were anything but proper. Still, you never expected an officer in a leading position like the finance department to go this far. The first time you read the contract, you thought you were hallucinating, laughing it off as a bad joke. But seeing the everlasting, unreadable smile on Pantalone's lips, you realized he was serious about this—so you ran.

You wished you could have told anyone what had happened, even just vent it to a friend. But nothing and no one in this prison was friendly to you, the newbie. You could live with the mockery and bullying, being pushed around and called names. However, you were in no position to tell anyone what Pantalone had offered to you. There was nothing you could do to put his head back on straight. You were powerless.

Thus, after another round of unsuccessful applications, you were back, disgusted at yourself for even considering it.

"Isn't there anything... anything else I can do but this?" you asked uncomfortably, and you heard him take a deep breath by your side, annoyance radiating off of him. Your morality told you not to sink to his level, to not even consider it any further unless he offered you actual work right then and there. But your conscience was whispering into the back of your mind, with his voice, that this was as good as it would get, and you should take it as long as he still wanted you.

"Why? Do you think I won't compensate you well for this work?"

Hand slipping down, his fingers gripped your waist, pulling you into his chest, his lips next to your ear. "You need the money, remember? And I have lots of it. If you want to leave, you're free to go—now. But if you agree to stay, you'll get whatever you want from me, and I'll get my break from work. It's a win-win for everyone."

The smug smile plastered on his face could be heard in his voice as he made all of this seem so harmless. Fun, even. A business transaction like in the books with a twist. Your body for money, and maybe more. "Anything I want?" you muttered, thinking about the few things that would make your life easier here if you had them.

Pantalone's head dipped lower, and you subconsciously moved your head out of the way, baring your neck to him, which he appreciated with an agreeing hum. "Mhm, anything," Pantalone confirmed, halting in his tracks just before your pulse, enjoying the closeness of what was almost his (or so he thought). "Whatever you might desire from me."

The offer was horrendous. He was merely tricking you into becoming his sex slave with sweet words and promises. You had no reason to believe him. But if he spoke the truth, and was a man of his word, then... maybe...

"I want a cell for myself," you tested him.

"Mhm, sure," Pantalone hummed, planting a fluttering kiss on your neck that gave you goosebumps. A brush of his lips, like tipping his credit card to a machine for quick pay.

"And I want some of the money to be transferred to a bank account outside of jail for later."

His second hand reached up, driving from your collarbones to your jaw before wrapping around it, forcing your head back. "Anything else?" Pantalone asked, a sharp, biting undertone echoing through his voice, declaring his patience running low. There was so much you could demand and so little time to demand it. But he wanted something in return, and denying him any longer wasn't an option. This had to suffice if you wanted to stay on his good side. There was only one more thing you could ask for—mercy.

"Can you... Can you promise not to do something ridiculous or embarrassing to me?"

Raising an eyebrow, he watched you intently through hooded eyelids. There was a hint of distrust in his gaze, indicating that he didn't expect a rather personal request instead of more materialistic things. "That's what you concerned with?" Pantalone asked, and you nodded your head into his palm, feeling bashful.

"I will see what I can do. However, as that is an undefined request, we'll have to test out a few things before we know for sure."

You breathed out slowly, having held your breath as you waited for his answer. "Thank you," you whispered, lowering your gaze to the contract on the table. Pantalone released you, his touch lingering as long as possible on your body until you reached his desk, picking up the pen. In your best handwriting, you wrote down the things you discussed before placing your signature on the bottom line.

No second later, Pantalone's body collided with your back, one hand slipping around your front and between your legs, finger digging into the fabric of your pants and overall, sliding between your folds and up to your clit. You gasped, threatening to let the pen fall from your hand when he caught it with his free one. Leaning over your shoulder, he put his signature over yours. If that was supposed to be this way or an accident, you didn't know. But it looked awfully possessive of you as he hastily smeared his elegant signature all over yours.

With two fingertips, he played with your clit, the fabric giving barely enough coverage but all the more friction. You struggled a little against his touch but caught between his body and his arm, it only made you grind against Pantalone more, a husky grumble in your ear making you shudder.

Wasting no more time, Pantalone reached around to your front, unzipping the overall so he could sneak his hand under your shirt and up to your chest. The lousy bras you were given gave no resistance as he tore them off, letting them fall away and baring your breast to him. "No more bras," he mumbled, kissing along the nape of your neck as he fondled your chest, leather sliding over your nipples, flicking and twisting the little knob.

"And no more panties."

"Is that a command?" you gasped as you tried to keep your composure despite the clenching of your core and the treacherous slick running down your thighs.

"Call it a work instruction," Pantalone chuckled before drawing away, his hands leaving your throbbing nerves behind lonely as you staggered forward, catching yourself on the table. Everything in you screamed to hide and defend your body, but when you felt him grip the arms of your overall, you knew it wouldn't be the one to protect you any longer.

Reluctantly, you slid off the orange prison wear, letting it fall to the floor. Behind you, Pantalone let out a deep, hungry breath, and you didn't dare to turn around to see what expression he was making. Whether it was mockery or lust, you simply didn't want to see it. When he gripped you by the neck, you leaned forward, ass in the air, as Pantalone pressed his crotch to your backside, grinding the bulge in his pants into the softness of your rear.

He grew more and more assertive, forcing you on your tiptoes as he rested his body on top of yours, dry-humping into you with need. Heat was building between you two and inside you. Strange, considering you were still against all of this, and you two weren't at a stage where the stimulation was too much to bear. Maybe Pantalone's desire was slowly wearing off on you, the hot pants brushing against your earlobes, paired with his groans, tickling something deep inside your core.

Whatever it was, you knew you had to get this whole act over with quickly. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of watching you crumble and come undone because of him just like that. Even if it was just for feeling better about yourself and your decision, you had to prove to yourself that you could be strong and withstand all of this.

A herculean task.

Your trousers were already sliding off just from the grinding when Pantalone decided to ban them into pooling around your ankles instead. Standing in only your panties before him was humiliating, but you knew it wasn't enough for him yet. Until you were stark naked and very likely out of your mind embarrassed, he'd not stop. And he proved it to you by hooking his finger around your panties, tearing them off you, and making them unwearable, his work instruction becoming more and more reality.

Now, he had much easier access to you than you liked. Without any straining fabric in the way, your cunt got to experience the leathery touch of his gloves. Cold fingers caressed your heated folds, the nerves of your clit zapping electric shocks through you. But no matter how hard you flinched or tried to escape forward, Pantalone was always there to put you back in your place against him, never letting go.

By the time he was finished teasing you, you felt dizzy from the pleasure, barely hearing him unzip his own pants until you felt the curve of his cock resting against your throbbing cunt. Pantalone wet his cock in slow, agonizing slides through your slick folds until you were ready to welcome him, his tip settling perfectly against your entrance.

You both let out moans in unison as he sunk into you. However, when you thought he had already pushed completely inside you, Pantalone made yet another step forward, sheathing every inch in your pussy, your ass bumping against his hips. There was no one you could think of that ever filled you so deeply. Whose curve aligned perfectly with your insides, and who made you feel like you would lose it after only entering you.

"I chose well," Pantalone sighed in satisfaction, breath shuddering before he pulled out slowly, treasuring the feeling of your walls clinging on to him desperately. And without warning, he plunged back in, leaving you gasping as you were pounded against his desk. There was nothing you could do but endure the exciting tingle of pleasure, capturing your every body function and every thought.

Your mind wanted to be strong, and your body just really wanted to cum.

"Move," Pantalone gasped, pulling you up by the arm. His cock slipped out of you as he directed you around the table, leaving a mess dripping out as you mewled. Immediately, you put your hand over your mouth, trying to hide the sounds that threatened to escape, but Pantalone merely laughed, amused by your frugal tries to deny your feelings.

Getting around first, he plopped down on his chair heavily, not caring about the image he usually upheld so well. Legs spread and arms on either side of the armrests, he seemed more like a king commanding his subjects than a respectable boss. Though... with the kind of contract you two had, you weren't sure if he had ever been reputable in the first place.

His cock, erect and throbbing, awaited you with a slick sheen, and you felt your core clench in longing as your eyes fell on it, long and curved, a dangerous and greedy thing just like the man attached to it. "Get on top," Pantalone instructed, waving his hand for you impatiently.

Laying your palm in his, you slung your leg over his, trying to find a space to place your knees. Pantalone pulled you taut against him, one hand grabbing your side, elevating your body until you lost your footing, relying on his support. However, his gaze snapped from the space between your hips and the tip of his cock, a demanding glint in them that made you act without any words needing to be spoken between you two.

Reaching down, you brushed your fingertips over his length, his cock pulsing hard against your hand, demanding to be led back to your entrance so it may sink inside again. However, with how the position was, you assumed Pantalone wanted you to please him, causing you to grip his dick, pleasuring him with your hand first. If it helped him to cum faster, it would only be better for you, but his fingers at your side turned into claws, signaling he wasn't impressed by your teasing.

Reluctantly, you lowered your hips, sliding his tip through your folds until you reached your entrance. You prepared yourself with a deep breath, wanting to slide down in your own tempo, but Pantalone seemed to have a different idea, slamming your hips down and buckling his at the same time. Even with your eyes wide open, you couldn't see anything but lights flicker in your vision. Next thing you knew, you moaned loudly as Pantalone urged you up and down his cock like a fleshlight.

"Mhm-! Not so... Not so f-fast!" you slurred, a smug grin jerking the corners of his lips.

"You do it, then," he relented, letting go of your body. You flopped down like a loose sack of potatoes, panting heavily. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you used them to push yourself up, biting your lip to hold back the moan after you mumbled, "Okay..."

"Okay, what?" Pantalone asked, a slap ringing out as his hand came down on your ass. This surprise was nothing you could bite down, moaning loudly, and a second slap followed right away.

"Okay, Sir!" you corrected yourself, quickening the pace in hopes he'd find it harder to aim.

"That's right," Pantalone huffed, eyes fixed on your breast jiggling before his eyes. "I'll teach you how to be more respectful to the person you belong to. Got it?"

"Mhm--! Yes! Yes, Sir!"

You must have been out of your mind, moaning and rocking your hips on your boss's lap. You'd never done these things for money. Aside from the occasional sigh and groan, the hungry gleam in his eyes, and his fingers digging into your hips, Pantalone gave you no indications or words of his satisfaction. Regardless, there was no turning back now. Not when you could already feel your toes curl.

A knock on the door finally made you regain your conscience, snapping you out of your hazy humping. Your expression grew panicked, but the door was already opening without either of you asking the person to come in. "Sir, I have the weekly reports you wanted--"

You could hear the person's jaw drop as they looked up from the papers they were bringing, eyes landing on your bare ass, their gaze tingling on your skin as it drove upwards, trying to see who it belonged to. Your whole head felt ablaze after being caught in this unseemingly position, your pussy still dripping with all your juices even in this kind of situation.

"Not a good time right now," Pantalone said, waving his hand dismissingly but appearing unbothered otherwise.

"I- I was- There--" the person behind you stammered, and you simply wanted to die the longer you could feel them checking out your body. This was probably the worst case you could have imagined when you took the 'job'. Pantalone sighed, and you recognized his telling signs by now. If you learned anything, then that he wasn't a very patient man.

Gripping you from underneath your thighs, he lifted you up, bucking his hips into you, making you gasp loudly before letting you fall back first on top of his desk. After the initial shock and pain, you forced your eyes open again, staring straight into the eyes of the young guard who had greeted you upon coming in and acted as a secretary to Pantalone. It was infuriatingly embarrassing to be seen like this, disheveled and so close to your orgasm, especially when Pantalone put your legs around his hips, jerking them until you got the hint and wrapped them around him on your own before he plunged back deep inside you.

Covering you with his own body from the horrified and, at the same time, intrigued glances, he looked up at his secretary in annoyance. "Look at them again, and I'll gauge out your eyes. If you have any sense of self-preservation, leave. I am busy."

That finally released the young man from his state of shock. He stumbled over his own feet, muttering apologies to no one in particular and slamming the door behind him, which caused Pantalone to huff. Lowering his gaze back to you, you were still embarrassed beyond belief when he asked, "Was this sufficient?"

"No!" you yelled, immediately lowering your voice after noticing the irritated glint in his eyes after you screamed into his face. "This is terrible! They saw me... doing this... here..."

"I'll install a lock then," he promised calmly, pushing his irritation aside for you and rolling his hips. You let out a frustrated groan as your pleasure spiked again, and Pantalone put his lips to your throat, nibbling on your skin as he pounded into you. You could hardly decide which position had felt the best, but you knew you were done for. Pleasure-wise and your reputation.

"Sir," you whimpered. "I'll... I'll--"

"Cum," he muttered into your collarbone. "I don't mind you feeling pleasure because of me. Just make sure to finish the job."

Nodding meekly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding on to him tightly as Pantalone began pounding harder, his cock throbbing inside you, so close to bursting as well. He gripped the edge of the table tightly, his knuckles turning white as your toes curled, back arching, needily wanting to be closer to him even more so close before being pushed over the edge.

Cumming on this amazing cock wasn't hard, not when it seemed to check off the best spots like a veteran explorer of your body. All the harder was the orgasm. Your moans were no longer muffled. Tears shot in your eyes as you began to see stars again, your nails raking through the uniform jacket with the intent to destroy.

It was over way too fast.

After the height, you crashed too hard, tears overflowing as you realized you couldn't even keep a little bit of your dignity. Soon everyone would know what you were doing with the chief of finances. It wouldn't even be rumors that he was fucking you in his office for money. It would all be true. And what was even worse was Pantalone knowing he had won. He convinced you to play by his rules, obey his commands, and on top of it, made you cum even before himself.

You sobbed as he plowed through your orgasm, heavy breathing that felt like flames licking at you and the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you. Reaching over to grip you by your hair, Pantalone turned your head in front of his, moving forward to kiss you. "N-No!" Already feeling disgusted by yourself, you denied access by averting your face, his orgasm coming and going without him finding refuge and pleasure in a kiss.

When your eyes darted briefly to his face, you expected it to be filled with satisfaction or victorious madness, but instead, he stared at you coldly, bitterly. You hadn't realized this kiss would mean so much, but it seemed like you ruined his orgasm for him, which made you... happy.

Pulling out, you didn't even care that you'd have to clean up the mess he left behind to drip out of you. You sat up slowly, watching as your boss wiped his cock clean before discarding the stained leather gloves, throwing them on top of you. "Get off my desk," he commanded, and you strained your tense back, feeling the pain from being thrown on the wood roughly before. You managed to get down before Pantalone sat in his chair again, rolling back up to his desk with an irritated expression on his face.

"Go and get some wet wipes and clean this disgusting mess you made," Pantalone instructed, and you gulped, clearly hearing his anger through his voice, even though you found the blame unfair. Going around the desk, you picked up your clothes, quickly putting them on again.

"I'd love to send you there naked, you know. You probably enjoyed being seen more than you admitted."

Catching his eyes, you gulped, blurting out something you should have rather kept inside. "Are you really that mad because I didn't kiss you?"

You could feel the anger emanating from him as he stared at you, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fist. "S-Sorry," you muttered quickly, lowering your gaze and hurrying to zip up your overalls (all the way!) before running to the door. You dreaded having to look into the faces in the office space waiting just outside. Still, it was better than staying inside with the mad tyrant of the financial department. You had a feeling you'd not get away unharmed if you dared to test his patience any longer.

However, just as you wanted to turn the knob, a hand slammed into the door next to you. You jerked away but were grabbed by your upper arm and kept in place right beside him.

"I think you forgot who's in charge here. You need me, but you're just a diversion for me—a break from work. There are enough other gullible prisoners dying for a chance at what you have. Never forget I fucking own you. You signed the contract. You're mine to do with whatever I please. Don't you dare ever deny me again."

Pantalone didn't allow you to look into his eyes, but you were glad that he stood behind you so you didn't have to face him as he spat these words into your ear. Gulping, you nodded, his grip tightening around your arm for a moment before he let go, taking a step back.

"Kiss me," he said, voice as monotone as it sounded dangerous. It was his way of proving you really understood what he just said and your position. What you meant to him. That you were caving and submitting to him, or you knew he'd make your life miserable. It made you want to cry again, pathetic and captured in his scheme as you were, but you choked back the tears, turning around and stepping up to him.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheeks with shaky hands. Your gut revolted at even the thought of having to kiss this man, but you took a quick breath, calming yourself. It was just a kiss. What could go wrong? You already rode his dick and let him make you cum harder than anyone ever before, you shouldn't feel this ashamed with simple and insignificant affection in comparison.

And yet, watching his features soften as he leaned down, you were horrified to see the affection in his gaze just before your lips united. You wanted to end it quickly, but his arms wrapped around your midriff, pulling you close, unwilling to let go as he licked over your lips, slipping inside as you gasped. Pantalone didn't let you back away, involving you in a deep kiss, no matter how much you clawed your fingers into his arms, kissing you again and again until you were gasping for air.

But only when he was satisfied with tasting you did he finally let go, pushing you from him as if it meant nothing to him, turning and walking back to his desk. "The wipes?" he asked goadingly, patting the wood, discarding you just like that, high and dry.

"Of course..." you mumbled, confused about the sudden change in his wants. Just now, he had been angry about you not kissing him, and now he wanted nothing from you all of a sudden?

"Of course what?"

"Of course, Sir!" you corrected yourself, hurrying to leave the room, even with the horrified faces awaiting you on the other side.

Leaving behind one smug Pantalone, watching his toy running off to get the supplies so they could clean the desk before he'd make them dirty it once again. Over and over until your mind would be so broken, you'd not know anything other than the pleasure of his cock. Touching his fingers to his lips, he could still feel your plump softness caressing them, your taste lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Next time, you'd kiss him as he claimed you. And if his workday wasn't long enough, Pantalone was sure he could find a reason to take you home with him so you could warm his cock all night long. There was still so much he wanted to see—mostly you choking on his cock, crying, and begging him to make you cum. You were the best candidate he had in a while, and there was no better stress relief than a desperate little prisoner writhing beneath him. He might not be as patient as to wait days again for you to come around and fulfill all the things he wanted to do to you.

But he would, most definitely, get his fill for what he was paying.

Tag List: [How to get added]

@just-simping-over-genshin​ | @whatthefuckbabysalad | @tonightwrites​

#Pantalone #yandere Pantalone #genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere!genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere!genshin impact #Prison Project #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine having a "oh no he's hot" moment when meeting Gladiator Hulk for the first time.

You didn’t know where Thor was when you chose to stay with Loki. To scheme with him against the Grandmaster, sucking up to the old weirdo, in order to find a way off of this dunghill of a planet. You longed for Asgard again, the way that things used to be, but never would be again, unfortunately. Powerless, you could do nothing but sit and watch these barbarian fights, trying to ignore how Loki seemed to indulge in the savagery just a little too much for your liking.

The Contest of Champions, it was called. Basically just Gladiator, wasn’t it? You’ve witnessed some impressive fights in Asgard, even down on Midgard in the Colosseum in older times. The only thing different about this was that there were... aliens involved. Some of the strangest creatures that you had ever seen. Some sort of insectoid fighting against a buff blue guy? You were wincing at every hit that landed, regardless of who it was on. The loser was quickly rolled - actually rolled because he could not get up - off of the stage and it was time for the next. The big one. The champion apparently. And who Thor would be fighting, according to the Grandmaster.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Something large. Something terrifying. Blood thirst. Maybe a giant wolf or a basilisk or something along those lines. Not the big green hulk, clad in Gladiator gear. You couldn’t even watch Thor when he walked out. Your eyes were stuck on...

Gladiator Hulk.

Oh no, he’s fucking hot.

Russell Crowe could never.

Thor was shouting up towards The Grandmaster. You cringed internally. Idiot. You loved Thor but sometimes he just didn’t think before he spoke. He wasn’t much one for strategy. The Grandmaster looked at you and Loki with disbelief. Loki was definitely uncomfortable at seeing the thing that had once beat the living hell out of him. But you couldn’t help noticing the way that those muscles were bulging on those huge green arms, beneath the armor. Thor was getting his ass kicked and all you could think about was how thirsty you were, in more way than one.

You were leaning forward, hands pressed against your thighs, trying to watch as much as you could from the high seat. Ohhh, the way that he picked up that axe, that was glorious. Thick thighs carrying him across the large arena. Did you moan a little? Yes, admittedly. Did anyone hear you? Only Loki, who turned his look of discomfort into one of disgust.

“Really y/n, of all creatures -”

“Shhh,” You hushed, hitting his leg. “At least I didn’t get pregnant with a stallion-”

“We said we would never mention that story again,” Loki hissed, making you hit him again.

Requested by: Anonymous

#The Hulk #The Hulk x reader #The Hulk imagines #Bruce Banner #Bruce Banner x reader #Marvel #Marvel imagines #x reader #imagines #request #bruceb

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

The Plot (Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader)

anthony bridgerton x  fem!reader

the one where his entire family plots to get you two together by the end of the season

warnings: awful dad; mentions of potential future abuse; she/her pronouns; scheming lol 

author: sj

masterlist

part two / part three / part four

---

The Bridgertons have practically been your family since you were small, specifically Daphne and Eloise, but none of them were were ever considered your favorite, they simply all were your favorite. And the whole clan adored you. Even Lady Bridgerton who insisted that you call her Violet.

This was your second season out and your father particularly was starting to get serious about your intentions to marry. Your father was never the kindest, viewing you as another child in his house and as a thing he had to get rid of when you hit a certain age, hence why you spent your time at the Bridgerton household to escape him. Which was were you found yourself now. Specifically at dinner.

The sound of silverware scraping and loud chatting filled your ears as you ate with the beloved family. You had only told Eloise before dinner of your father and his intention to marry you off this season. Which is what you and Eloise were discussing at the moment in hushed whispers.

“But I can’t believe he would actually do this! It’s ridiculous and quite disgusting that he would treat you like property.” Eloise huffed.

“What are you talking so fervently about Eloise?” Anthony asked at the head of the table.

“Nothing, brother.” She dismissed, your cheeks heating slightly under his gaze that was looking back and forth between you two. For the past few years, you had been harboring a little crush on the Viscount. After he had helped you learn a specific dance in the day room one morning about four years ago, your mind and body would not release him from its clutches. He seemed to not return your feelings. 

“Eloise, if you are going to speak so passionately then you get to share with the table. I for one would love to hear what has you so angered.” He insisted, cutting the meat on his plate. She looked to you as if to ask if it was alright to explain but you just kept your head down and picked at the food on your plate.

“It is not my matter to discuss.” Eloise spoke, adding a little nod in your direction at her side. 

“Eloise…” Anthony pushed.

“Anthony, if Y/n doesn’t want to discuss it then she downed not have to.” Violet cut in, reading the situation and knowing it was your matter that was attempting to be discussed.

“Y/n, my apologies. It was not my intentions to make you uncomfortable.” Anthony said earnestly, looking at you in the eye. You quickly looked down.

“No! You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just… well… My father has decided at the end of this season I am to be married. Regardless of my feelings on the topic… and the person.” You said still avoiding eye contact from everyone at the table.

“Oh, Y/n.” Benedict sighed with compassion in his voice.

“I’m so sorry.” Colin said, patting your shoulder affectionately. You took a breath to hold yourself together.

“I’m alright. I promise. There have been others that have gone through this, I’m sure I’ll survive.” You tried to muster up your best smile, looking up to the others. Anthony’s eyes met yours, his hands paused at his plate as you spoke and eyes studied your pitiful half smile. It was obvious to him that you weren’t fine.

“I mean how can he do this?!” Eloise yelled, her silverware clattering to the table. “What if the man he marries you to is AWFUL? What if he hurts you or is old or is demeaning? How can you just be fine?!” She exclaimed.

“It’s because I don’t have a choice.” You quietly admitted. “If I get upset, it’ll do nothing but make me miserable. I’m just hoping somehow I end up with a love match or at least someone nice.”

Hyacinth and Greggory had been quietly watching (for the first time in their lives). They didn’t fully grasp the gravity of the situation but what they did grasp was that you weren’t acting like yourself. Your normal joyful demeanor and the smile that never seemed to leave your face fully, was completely gone. Just by looking at your body language, they could feel the unease rolling off of you.

They were also keeping an eye on Anthony as well. Not once since you had admitted the news did he move his hands from his silverware resting by his plate, knuckles going white with how hard he was squeezing his fists around the metal. They knew of how he normally looked at you, with soft eyes and careful attention. The empty stare he had trained on you now held almost a slight look of concern and anger. 

Hyacinth and Greggory shared a look between them that almost said it all. They needed to find a way to get you and Anthony together by the end of the season so you didn’t end up miserable and so you realized your shared feelings for each other. 

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthonybridgertonxfemreader #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader fluff #anthony x reader

[acourtofserpents]

Rambling ahead about Humans and Fae and their nature, please be warned it's messy and very pure stream of consciousness-y.

It's interesting that for Fae, humans are fleeting fancies with short lives but... humans are the same for each other too.

Like, as a species, we are obsessed with liminal spaces, of lines that cross once and never again, we are always aware of our mortality, we have deities and religions and intellectual movements dedicated to the concept of time and crossroads and liminality and meaning of life, we build, destroy and rebuild border and kingdoms and countries and inventions, we invented obsolescence, we have fleeting fancies, we have crushes, we marry, divorce, remarry, we can disappear from a previous life and go start a new one elsewhere, we have relationships that always hang in the middle...

Humans are more like Fae than they would think. Yet in a way, I find the former more resilient and unique.

If anything, Caerus is the living proof of how FRAGILE the Fae is. He gets dumped and he immediately loses all sight of logic and morality, succumbing completely to his emotions. He attempts to justify this moment of weakness with tradition and nature, but who is he trying to fool. Even to this day, he is stuck in that moment, he cannot let go of the "betrayal".

When you can compare him to MC's mother who saw how she was being treated and said, no, I refuse. I will not stay where I am mistreated despite all my efforts. And she escapes. She sees nothing wrong with that— she knows love existed but it's not enough, it's not worth the withering of her soul. She rebuilds her life. She finds love again. She forms a family. She finds happiness and meaning to her life. She is no longer consumed by the thoughts of Caerus. He was a moment in her life— lovely and horrible, and it passed.

Of course, humans commit atrocities at the event of a broken heart too, but such things are rare in the grand scheme of everything, and they require certain defects to pre-exist to come to where they are in the first place. When our heart is broken, we cry, rage, wallow... then we get up because "more fish in the sea!" We get support by friends and family, we have books for comfort and understanding— every moment of the human life is liminal.

In a way, I can understand why the Fae are so fascinated and disgusted by the Humans— because they have all that magic and long agespan and riches beyond belief, but humans don't, yet they drive far richer and more colorful lives than they do. Humans find meaning in everything they look and dissect, they get knocked down and they get up, they leave marks with or without meaning to, they can forget and move on. They can heal.

I dunno, man. Human vs Fae in fiction is fascinating to think when you (as in, general, not specifically you the writer) constantly portray the Fae as hedonistic creatures bound to their nature and rules and consumed by moments past, and that's what Humans not only are not, but actively rebel against such bonds, even if we know we might not be there to enjoy the fruits of our labour, but at least the ones after us will.

“He was a moment in her life— lovely and horrible, and it passed.”

#i will never recover from this #i want to tattoo this on my forehead #what a beautiful and interesting way to think about it!!!! #and i definitely agree!!! #you put it so beautifully #no because i can tell you’re rlly smart just by this analysis alone #thank you so much for sharing with us!!! #please let me pick your brain #what #who said that #not me #thank you for the ask <3 #asks #a court of serpents #acos #venus rambles