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konigbabe · 7 months

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eleusinian mysteries

DAY 7 ⇢ Gangbang Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader x Toji Fushiguro x Kento Nanami x Choso Kamo Word count: 4k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; gangbang; oral sex (F & M receive); p-in-v; anal sex (F receive only); pure filth; fingering; cunnilingus; rimming; deepthroat/throatfucking; praise kink; protected sex; ass slaping (like once); pet names (each one calls you differently); basically 4 men 1 female gangbang Summary: How did you find yourself passed around by four men might remain a mystery; at least it's off of your bucket list now. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider is mine. A/N: With NSFW Week oficially over with this piece, I wanted to give special thanks to the radiant Fae (@kennedyswhore) for her unconditional support [that kept me from dropping the event], sublime Kit (@vagabond-umlaut) for her encouraging and kind words (that subconciously pushed me to finish each piece), Karma (@kazushawty) who infected my mind with her filth (in a good way) that resulted in this mess (and kudos to her tutorial for this GIF) and to you, who's reading this [series]. Thank you for the support! ♡

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There's a thin line between reality and a dream – which can easily be blurred. Especially when the present blends with the past and gets a hold of the future within its grasp.

"What's this?"

Satoru lies spread wide on the bed; torso bared to the world and stretched out, his physique like an invitation to explore. Especially with the way the moon casts its shine onto the mop of silvery strands that crown his head.

With a soft sigh, you position one knee on the plush expanse of the bed, flicking your eyes on your lover. His curious fingers dance towards the petite diary on your nightstand; a beacon of secret desires nestled in the soft glow of tonight's moonlight.

"A journal," you reply, "of sorts," the mumble that leaves your lips is faint, tinged with skepticism. Unease. Shame maybe – even.

"Can I?" With the book already ensconced in his slender fingers, he throws you a questioning look. Seeks your permission. Your silent approval is conveyed through a gentle dip of your chin.

Satoru unfurls the pages. Flips through them. Hair clinging to his forehead, eyes darting across each paragraph and list; he takes his time reading, studying each entry. Flipping through the pages, you notice the crease between his eyebrows deepen as he reaches the last page.

The last page.

There are no hidden feelings between you. You are an open book for him – now in a more literal sense than ever before.

"This page's interesting," he mumbles to himself, yet his words reach your ears clearly. And you know what he means. A warm flush sweeps across your cheeks, causing your eyes to divert towards the sheets, where your nervous fingers fiddle with the fabric, "is this a bucket list?"

His utterance is clear, and you grasp the implication quickly.

"Yeah, well, everyone has dreams."

You feel the bed on your side dip. Satoru shifts, sits up, the sheets cascading around his lithe waist. Warm breath fans over your cheeks, adding fuel to the fire smoldering beneath your skin. His hand finds its way onto your exposed thigh, thumb caressing the damp skin.

"Yours are rather," searching for the right descriptor, the hand that was on your thigh now slips underneath your chin, gently lifting it to align your gaze with the deep, cerulean depths of his eyes, "provocative."

Filthy. That'd be more fitting, you think.

The answer on the tip of your tongue refuses to budge.

"I like that," he adds after a while. "And if you want," sitting straight, his face now stands in front of you, a breath away, "we can do number three now."

When you don't respond – only watch his face inch closer, lips hover over the curve of yours – he licks a thin stripe across your lower lip.

"And I can arrange number seven if you want," he mumbles against your lips, pushing your face towards his.

How such a simple conversation led to this will probably remain a bit of a head–scratcher. How Satoru managed to have all of them agree to this will be a mystery. Maybe he has a knack for bringing out people's hidden desires or a way of making everyone comfortable enough to do this.

But these thoughts don't really stick in your mind. Especially with the way Nanami's tongue continues to lick thick stripes over your drenched walls. Back flat against the table, legs up and spread wide. Toji keeps a vice grip on one of your ankles with Choso gripping the other one – the two men keeping your legs open for the blonde man to devour you comfortably.

You'd never imagine there would be a day when all of them would see you like this.

And that there would come a day when you discover the taste of each of their lips; the unique sensation each of their kiss can bring.

Satoru you were familiar with – hungry. Sloppy. Messy. Remaining filled with passion even after years of familiarity. Holding your face with both his hands, cradling your cheeks. Like the first plunge into a lukewarm sea that turns into swirling foam – enveloping and capricious. He always speaks with his entire body; grinding up against you and wrapping his arms around your back. A boisterous lover.

Nanami – Nanami's kiss, on the other hand, is a contrast to Satoru's intensity. It's precise, measured, and full of depth. A slow dance of passion; like the waltz. His hand comes to your face and cups your chin, lifting your head up just the slightest amount of space so that when his lips meet yours, they nestle in there perfectly. His lips meet yours with a calculated tenderness. There's a sense of control and mastery in his kiss, and it leaves you with a feeling of being cherished and understood.

Toji – like a storm. Wild and untamed, coming out of nowhere with an intensity that left you breathless. An untamed force that sweeps you off your feet. Fingers gripping your chin with iron strength, thumb pushing against your lower lip to part for him more. Tongue both demanding and teasing, as if he can't decide whether to be gentle or let the beast out. The taste of danger and desire both eminent on his lips.

And Choso – the perfect blend of sweetness and ardor. His kiss is unexpectedly tender, considering his broad, rough exterior. A hand resting on your nape, not pushing or anything, with the other sliding up and down your arm; making you feel like he had waited a lifetime for this moment and wanted to savor the warmth of your skin under his palms. He tastes like moonlight on bare skin.

So when all four kiss you, the sensation is a whirlwind – a summer storm. A combination of the intensity of Satoru's kiss, the depth of Nanami's, the wildness of Toji's, and the tenderness of Choso's.

"Mmph–fuck," Toji rumbles, teeth showing in a grimace as nails dig into the flesh of your calf. Your fingers tighten around his base when you feel Nanami's fingertips collect your wetness, spread your lips apart before his finger teases your open hole.

You want to answer, urge Nanami to finally let go of the restraints – feeling like hours have passed since he went down on his knees and buried his face between your legs. Yet it's hard to do so when Satoru's cock plunges into your mouth. So deep in your mouth that you can barely breathe as he thrusts it into you; our lips and the back of your throat rubbing raw against its pulsing flesh. You feel him hit a soft barrier and push harder.

Hands slide across your chest. Slick with saliva before the softness of someone's lips envelops one of your nipples. A kiss, soon followed by a nip of teeth. Gentle, exploring – Choso, you guess. Compared to how Toji keeps squeezing the other one. All rough and fast, his thumb flicking over your erect nipple whenever your finger presses against his slit.

"Daamn, baby," you pick up Satoru's mumbles. And with your head thrown over the table's edge, you manage to look up. To see the underside of his chin, see how he's looking up; how his hand continues to caress your hollowing cheek, thumb collecting the tears that spill over your waterline.

A moan slips past the tight seal of your lips when Nanami's finger is finally buried all the way inside your drenched cunt. You arch against him, hips grinding against his moving hand before another one presses down onto your lower belly.

"Don't move, love," Nanami's voice echoes, hot breath skittering over your wet folds moving to your aching nub, "just let me prep you."

You tighten your grip – both of them – which only earns you deep grunts. Choso's teeth swipe over the tender flesh of your breast, over the soon-to-be bruise forming upon his attack. Tongue swirling over the silk-soft skin, making it stiffen with prickly heat. Your moan and twitch at the touch.

Toji flicks your nipple, rolls it between his fingers. Eyes drawn onto the sight before him. On the way your body lies completely bared; body offered on a platter of lustful ecstasy, like a sacred offering.

As Nanami's hand slides inside of you, heat spreads through every inch of your body. His fingers are merciless, relentlessly adding another finger and curling them both up to press against your walls. Searching for that sweet spot, that one point of ecstasy that will have you seeing stars.

"Baby," Satoru whines, thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth to draw your attention to him, "gonna cum. Think you can swallow me?"

Your hands continue to slide up and down Choso's and Toji's cocks, each on either side of you. Satoru stops moving, the throbbing tip of his cock resting on your upper palate. Your tongue swipes over his leaking slit, collecting the briny, pearlescent droplets before swallowing.

"Mhm," you attempt to nod, taking a deep breath through your nose.

"Good," Satoru responds, holding you in place by digging his fingers into the nape of your neck as his cock expands against your throat walls, pushing every nerve ending until a burning pleasure washes over you.

You can feel the heat spreading through your body, coalescing in the space between your legs.

Nanami's fingers continue to massage your walls, pressing against that slightly ridged spot deep inside – the one that tightens your throat, makes you clamp down on his fingers, grip Choso and Toji tighter. Everyone feeling your pleasure rise–

Satoru stills inside you. And you feel him spill. All hot and heavy; flowing over your tongue and melting on your taste buds like an ice cream cone in the summer sun. Tengy but savory.

–and rise until the dam breaks. Warmth flooding your nerves, overwhelming your senses until you surrender to it completely.

Nanami doesn't stop moving. Instead he speeds up, his fingers working you over until you are soaked in sweat; not a single inch of your skin dry or cool.

Fucking you through the first orgasm of the night while Satoru withdraws from your mouth. A feral groan escapes his lips as he watches scant droplets of his cum escape your mouth and rustle down the side of your cheek, smearing the sensuous skin with slick fluids that threaten to drip into your eyes. He leans down and sweeps up the droplets; plunging his sticky fingers deep inside your mouth.

All while the azure depths of his eyes lock onto your hazy gaze, you watching the upside down image of your boyfriend.

"You're so good," he praises, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean. You can taste it on his tongue; the saltiness, the sweetness of his spent, "ready for the real fun?"

Nanami's fingers scratch your quivering walls once last time. His lips – soft and velour – press against your opening, tongue teasingly licking along the entrance before he stands up.

"Mhm–definitely," you murmur and watch. Watch as Nanami stands up, torso sculpted into perfection. Muscles rippling under pale skin, the veins visible beneath the surface. Your fingers itch, coming closer until the tip of your middle finger nudges against the graven abdomen.

His hips pitch forward upon your touch. Hand tightening around his cock as he gives it a few pumps.

You want it. Want him. Want to feel the stretch as he sinks inside.

"Condoms," Satoru chimes in from your side, stern but only reminding everyone as his hand strokes your cheek. Nanami grips your thighs to spread your legs wider for him. Nodding, he reaches to your side, grabbing one from the small stack of them you prepared beforehand.

With one hand on your inner thigh, her rips open the foil packet with his teeth and rolls it down the length of his leaking cock.

"Ready," he asks to which you nod.

The burn is intense, numbing as you're filled in one smooth motion. His cock feels even better than you imagined it would; slick and hot inside you. You can feel every inch of him, every inch that fills you up. His hands tighten around your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stays still.

A mewl cascades past your parted lips. Body shifting, seeking more friction; movement. Nanami responds with a roll of his hips – exploring. Testing whether you opened up for him enough. And when he feels the unrestrained slide of his cock inside you, he can't help it any more. At first it's slow, shallow thrusts that have you biting your lip in anticipation.

"Fuck, get it over with already Nanami or I'm gonna explode," you hear a gruff voice.

Toji.

"Y'know," it sounds more like a moan rather than words but all four sets of eyes snap to your face, "I have two holes, don't I?"

Nanami shudders against your cunt, and you could swear he got more swollen upon your words. Choso's eyes snap to Satoru as Toji grabs the bottle of lube from the table. Yet Satoru's gaze lingers on your blissful expression.

"You sure about that?"

When he asks, your chest tightens, pulse gallops.

"She's a big girl, she can decide for herself," Toji responds, hand on your hip. He nods at you and then turns to Nanami, who looks up at him. They exchange a few words, a conversation that passes by your ears.

"Hey–"

"Satoru," you interrupt the man by your side, hand reaching upwards to touch the side of his neck, "s'okay. It's a gift for me after all."

You whimper when Nanami's cock slides out; now feeling the emptiness all over again.

"Gonna move this to the couch," Choso retorts–

Everything feels weightless. Surreal. Each kiss a caress, each touch a fire. Your thoughts are muddled, consumed by the need for him. For all of them.

–and soon enough, your legs are spread wide around Nanami's waist, his cock nestled deep inside you. You move in tandem, slow and shallow thrusts as you straddle him. He leans back against the couch, his head hidden in the nook of your neck; while at the same time, Choso stands behind it, with your lips sealed around his dripping tip.

Toji stays crouched behind you. Any other day, your face would burn over the thought – of having someone's finger up your ass. It's a strange feeling – the steady pressure of his middle finger as he twists inside you. Even with the generous amount of lube, it takes Nanami a few good thrusts and encouraging words – You feel good. Relax for us, yeah? – to get you mellowed enough for Toji to add a second finger and scissor them inside.

All while Satoru stands by the doorframe; fully naked, skin pale with pinkish hue. It feels as if he's glowing, radiant, when your eyes open and he's standing in your peripheral vision.

The motion tugs at something deep inside you. And you moan around Choso's cock. Hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing flat against his underside as you feel pleasure washing the shame away.

Suddenly, Toji's presence leaves your body. Letting go of Choso's cock, you hold it in your hand, thumb swiping over the sensitive slit, earning you a grunt of appreciation as Satoru's eyes lock onto yours – and you feel a small smile tug at your corners before–

"What–"

Something wet slithers around your rim as Nanami stills once again. Teeth nipping at the skin on your clavicles, your lips press momentarily against the ridge of Choso's tip, tasting the saltiness before you use Nanami's shoulders to steady yourself enough to twist around. To look at Toji, crunched down, hands spreading your cheeks apart with face buried between them. His eyes, verdant windows to his carnal soul, glint in the faint luminescence as they look up at you; you can't help but gasp, mouth running dry. His tongue like fire, skin searing under his touch as he swirls around your ass before pushing inside.

"Wait, I–ugh–"

Satoru shifts in the corner of your eyes.

But somehow, it feels good. So fucking good and delightful.

"Relax, not my first rodeo," Toji rumbles when he pulls away, sinking his teeth into the plump flesh of your ass; then he goes back for more.

"Feels weird," you let out a chuckle, nodding in Satoru's direction, "but good." Hand grasping Choso's cock – who's been patiently waiting for your return – you kiss the side of the burning flesh while letting Toji devour you.

Nanami's hands slide from their spot on your hips, tracing the curves and dips of your body; settling around the globes of your breasts. They squeeze the abused flesh, kissing the tender spots. Hips having mind of its own, you circle them on top of him, causing Nanami to grow into your skin.

For what feels like an eternity, you stay this way – squeezing, warming Nanami's cock inside your dripping walls. One hand resting at the back of his head as he kisses your chest, massages your nipples and caresses your sides. The other hand moves along Choso's length, lips tightly wrapped around it as you bob your head, Choso's hand resting on top of your head, gently urging you to take more.

With Satoru watching over it all.

"Good," a sharp slap, sting on your ass when Toji finishes and stands up, "arch your back for me, kitten." His hand presses against your lower back, urging you into position.

Your body curves into Nanami's, like water around a rock.

Nanami spreads his legs more, opening you when Toji spread more lube over his cock. Tugs a few times to spread the slick, sticky substance over the condom, dipping the fingers in your ass to loosen the upcoming friction more.

You expect pain; pain of being stretched to the limit. Yet there's none when the tip of his cock slips past your rim and slowly slips inside you – further and further, until his hips are pressed against your ass.

"Fuck–good girl, ain't ya," Toji mumbles, more for himself as he feels the heat of your insides hug him tightly.

"You're doing great," Nanami's lips brush against the shell of your ear, tone quiet – just for you. "Wanna ride us?"

"Mmph–," you nod. Fingers sliding along Choso's cock, taking him in your mouth when you start to move on your own accord.

Which doesn't last too long as pleasure increases, makes it difficult for you to find a good pace. As if he can feel your struggle, Toji grasps your hips, stabilizing the pace as Nanami moves his hips.

Satoru watches on with a mixture of curiosity and admiration as Nanami starts to move; his cock sliding inside you with ease, meeting up with Toji's pace. You can feel both their cocks pushing deep within you, adding fuel to the fire inside.

Their hands never leave your body, grasping at whatever they can reach.

"Ah–" Choso's hips stutter the moment his cock breaches the entrance to your throat. You keep going, deepening the movement with each plunge. The sensation builds up in seconds, making it impossible to keep still as he grunts your name, feeling himself nearing the edge. "Gonna cum–ugh– damn."

His hands grasp your face, hips rolling forward. You grasp Nanami's shoulders, letting Choso ride out his high, his cum sliding down your throat before he slips out – spent and satisfied – and watches with grateful gaze as you swallow him down, not leaving a droplet to escape.

"Shit–," Toji speaks up after a second, "you just got tighter," and he grips your hips, moving Nanami's hands out the way as the intensity of his thrusts increases. "Look at you. Always knew you were a dirty one."

You can't even respond, just focus on the intense pleasure coursing through your veins. Pulling away, Choso takes a step back; steading yourself on Nanami, using his chest as leverage, you pull back. Back meeting Toji's solid chest, his hand wrapping around the side of your neck while he brings your head to his – cheek to cheek, lips pressed against your ear.

"Would kill to have you cum raw on my cock alone," he mumbles. And you know the reason for the quiet whisper. You can feel Nanami's hands move to your hips, steadying them as he thrusts in time with Toji. Together they create a perfect tempo, pushing you closer.

"Ah, ah–" you moan out as their combined rhythm sends pleasure through you, building up the intensity until it takes over every inch of your body. Until your walls shudder around them, body tensing before you let loose.

Nanami doesn't stay behind; his hands slide up your waist to grip your ribs. He feels you tense around him, and the sound of your name slipping past his gritted teeth echoes in the room as he drops his forehead to your collarbones. With one final thrust, he spills inside the condom with a groan. You can feel the tension in his shoulders relax; as if a weight has been lifted from them.

Still in haze – eyes closed – you let out a small sigh, feeling the last of Nanami's warmth seep out of your body before the scene shifts.

Satoru has you pinned against the wall, Toji standing behind. His hands grip your hips, pushing his hard, slick cock inside your loose asshole while Satoru moves in front of you, taking your face in his hands – his hands move down from your chin to your jaw, then to the side, to the sensitive skin along the bottom of your ear and your collarbone. The strong wide thumb of his right hand presses against the corner of your mouth, gently.

So you open up. Legs supported under Toji's wise grip, you offer yourself to the two. You can feel Toji behind you, his breath hot on your neck as he thrusts back and forth. Teeth marking your nape, electrifying your sensitive body – still high from another climax mere seconds ago, yet neither of the two stopped –

Satoru's lips move to your wet cheek before he inches closer again, lips ghosting yours until the tip of his tongue finds its way inside your mouth – warm and wet – a silent command for you to reciprocate, and you do. You let yourself get lost in his kiss while Toji's hips crash against yours, pushing you both forward.

The sensation is overwhelming – a mixture of pleasure and pain as both men push against each other, letting out groans of pleasure and grunts of delight that blur the line between lustful and loving. Primal and affectionate.

"Fuck–kitten," Toji grumbles, chest vibrating against your back, "gonna cum."

And even with the condom on, you feel it. Feel the sudden rush of warmth as Toji's cock pulsates inside you. His name sounds like a prayer on your tongue when he stills, flexing his arms and spreading you wider for Satoru's harsh thrusts to reach deeper. Pelvis massaging your swollen nub each time he buries himself balls deep inside your cunt – raw, unrestrained, without a barrier. Unlike the rest.

All while Toji relishes in the squeeze of your ass, the snug fit whenever Satoru hits that deepest spot inside you and bullies his cock in your walls (even if he hates to admit it).

The sensation sends your body into a new frenzy and you can feel the tension building up. Again. Watching Satoru's eyes close, the crease between his brows deepen. Hips stuttering, his hand cradles your cheek as he lets go. Your arms sneak around his shoulders, face nestled in the sharp contour of his neck.

(With all the sensations buzzing inside your body, in each nerve, you don't notice Toji leaving silently.)

A strong arm sneaks behind your back, the other placed on the back of your neck. Hips pushing into your softness as he grunts appreciatively; you feel the slickness flood your walls, paint it pearlescent white. He holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Heat rolling over your body. His voice like honey and the sound of it alone is enough to bring you back to earth.

Until it all ends in a beautiful mess. A gluttony of pleasure, skin slick and breathless.

And somehow, you want more.

"Think we can do round two."

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javarium · 5 months

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whipped cream apology | r. sukuna

fights are uncommon between you and your fiancé, but there are times they do happen. you know you’ll never hear a verbal apology come from him, but you know he’s sorry; Sukuna’s apologies always come in the form of gifts, food, or acts of service. this time is no different :3

w — modern au, chef! sukuna (he owns and works in his own restaurant but that’s not elaborated on), itsy bitsy sprinkles of angst bc of a mentioned fight, fluff, this is super duper short haha, food and food descriptions bc I am a woman who loves her food so sue me :3 this is just a random lil fic I wrote in like a day so i won’t be surprised if this flops lmao

[ divider credit to @/inklore ]

You don’t know how you go to sleep angry, but you do.

Last night had been awful. Maybe you’d blown everything a little out of proportion, maybe not. Your energy hadn’t been so great coming through the front door of your home. You’d just been stalked by a couple of guys that wouldn’t stop leering at you, and to top that off you had an old woman at the register of the store get ugly with you. All you wanted was the nice dinner you know would be awaiting you and to not be bothered for awhile after that.

Problem was, was that Sukuna was also in a bad mood. Someone at the kitchen of his restaurant had put him in a super bad mood by not following orders, and a food critic was to be coming by in a few days. And when you mixed his bad mood with yours, it led to you two going to bed on bad terms.

But now, you’re not even sure that Sukuna had come to bed.

Did that idiot sleep on the couch?

Just as you’re about to get out of bed, you see a note on the nightstand with your name on it. You grab it, unfold it and read: ‘Stay in bed and text me when you’re awake.’

Your sleepy brain goes blank for a moment, but you oblige your fiancé’s request anyway, texting him that you’re awake with a pink heart afterward, hoping he still wasn’t upset with you.

Sukuna’s answer is almost immediate.

Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be upstairs.

But you do need to pee really really bad. You make your bathroom trip as quick as possible and hop back in the bed, miraculously just as Sukuna comes through the door with a large tray of what you smell to be food.

“Morning, baby,” he greets you.

You can see the solemn look on his face, one of upset. He’s still bothered about last night.

“Morning, ‘kuna,” you reply, smiling at him. It seems to partially work, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You flatten out the blanket as he sets the tray over your legs. Your eyes can’t help but blown open so wide in shock and excitement that you accidentally make them hurt. To your expression and blinking eyes, Sukuna chuckles.

“An apology, for my shitty behavior last night.”

There are several plates of food on the large tray. Perfectly cooked eggs, bacon, sausage; all of your favorite comfort foods all sit before you.

But right in the center is a heaping pile of one inch-thick, fluffy pancakes the size of your head, four stacked atop of another. Butter runs down underneath the sweet maple syrup. Neatly placed around the edges of the plate are bananas and strawberries. And on the very top is a generous pile of whipped cream in a fancy swirl.

You grin at his meticulousness of making such a wonderful plate that’s only just going to get messy.

“Sukuna—”

He scowls. “Don’t even bother me with apologizing back. I don’t wanna hear it. I’m the asshole. You did nothing wrong.”

Love swells in your heart and soul for the man you’re soon to marry. God, you love him.

“You’re sure?”

He tsks. “Positive.”

You smile brightly. “I love you.”

His cheeks and ears go pink. “Just eat.”

“Cheeseball,” you call him, cutting into the pancakes. “But don’t mind if I do.”

“If you can’t eat all of that, I’ll eat the rest.”

“Fuck off, it’s mine.”

taglist: (no longer adding)

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna fic #chef! sukuna #jjk fluff #jjk sukuna

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demifiendrsa · 5 months

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Final Fantasy VII Rebirth details Gold Saucer, Corel Prison, Vincent Valentine, Cid Highwind, and more detailed

■ New Art

■ Regions of the World

The world is comprised of multiple regions, each boasting unique environments for players to explore and experience on their adventure.

Gold Saucer

Referred to as the gilded paradise, the Gold Saucer is a resplendent amusement park on an epic scale. It is divided into seven areas, called “squares,” each with their own unique attractions. One such is the Skywheel, which takes guests high above the Saucer for an unforgettable view of the park, and has proven to be a popular date spot.

Corel Prison

A sprawling slum that infests the base of the Gold Saucer. It’s almost as if the Saucer’s glimmering façade acts a beacon for vagabonds and ne’er-do-wells the world over, as they have flocked there in droves. So dangerous is the Dustbowl—Corel Prison’s slightly kinder sobriquet–that those who enter its limits are said to never return.

■ New Characters

Vincent Valentine (voiced by Matthew Mercer in English)

“Who dares disturb my slumber?”

A self-proclaimed “security” guard who hibernates in a coffin deep below Shinra Manor. This man of mystery is swathed in a red cape and boasts the genes of a monster—as well as a hidden connection to Sephiroth.

Cid Highwind (voiced by J. Michael Tatum in English)

“Shinra don’t own the skies! They couldn’t stop me even if they tried.”

This rogue pilot of reputable skill runs a shuttle service out of various abandoned airstrips. After Cloud and company flag him down, he flies them around the globe in his beloved Tiny Bronco.

Dyne (voiced by Dave B. Mitchell in English)

“You took everything from me. Everything and everyone!”

Dyne was once Barret’s closest friend, back when the two used to make their living in the coal mines of Corel. Now, he is a wanted man with a gun grafted to his left arm, and his current whereabouts are unknown.

Dio (voiced by Ian James Corlett in English)

“As park director, it’s my pleasure to welcome you to our gilded paradise.”

The charismatic owner of the Gold Saucer. Famous for his brawny physique and handlebar mustache, Dio is often found participating in his park’s parades, flexing his muscles before throngs of screaming guests.

Doctor Sheiran (voiced by Lloyd Sherr in English)

“Won’t charge for my services, but I wouldn’t turn down a blood sample neither.”

Though his clinic in North Corel may be small, Doctor Sheiran’s heart and intellect are anything but. Lately, he has been caring for the black-robed figures that have stumbled into town, and is attempting to uncover the truth behind their mysterious illness.

Solemn Gus (voiced by Jonah Scott in English)

“I’ll help…but only if I get a little something from you first. Understand?”

The sleazy kingpin of Corel Prison, Gus is as flamboyant as he is smooth-talking. Add to that a healthy dose of showmanship, and it’s little wonder that the dregs of the Dustbowl have flocked to him.

Biggs (voiced by Gideon Emery in English)

“Why in the hell did fate pick me?”

After surviving the fall of the Sector 7 plate, Biggs awoke to find that he is the last remaining member of the ill-fated anti-Shinra rebels, Avalanche. Having recovered from his injuries, he now seeks revenge against the company that murdered his comrades.

■ Combat: Synergy Skills

Synergy Abilities

Powerful attacks in which two characters team up to turn the tide of battle. More abilities will unlock as you increase the party level─a numerical expression of how closely-knit your team is─and deepen the affinity between party members. Fill the synergy gauge by using abilities, then unleash a synchronized assault!

—Cloud / Aerith: “Firework Blade”

Cloud uses Aerith’s magic to unleash a ranged attack.

—Tifa / Caith Sith: “Moogle Dunk Shot”

Tifa swings Cait Sith’s moogle around and launches it at an enemy.

■ Combat: Summons

Summons

Setting summoning materia will grant access to the power of the gods. A conjured deity will follow the player’s lead and fight enemies automatically, but you can also instruct them to use special abilities. Before they depart the battlefield, summons will unleash one final attack that will wreak immense havoc.

Titan

A titanic colossus whose arms of solid stone can rend the earth—and your enemies—asunder.

—Titan excels at both powerful melee strikes and area-of-effect attacks, such as Boulder Hurl.

—Upon leaving the battlefield, Titan unleashes Earthen Fury, calling forth giant pillars of rock from deep within the earth. This imposing magic attack harnesses the power of nature to cleave your enemies’ resolve.

Bahamut Arisen

A massive dragon covered in resplendent red scales. It cuts off any possible escape routes with its lightning-quick speed, and decimates its enemies with both sharp claws and a veritable arsenal of weaponry.

—Bahamut Arisen excels at attacking in rapid succession, but can also obliterate foes with charged magic attacks from its limbs. Once its Umbral Bombardment lands, it releases two orbs of magic that fan out and annihilate all surrounding enemies.

—When it leaves the battlefield, Bahamut Arisen activates Gigaflare—an extremely potent attack that sees the dragon unleash beams of magic from its wings and maw, burning any nearby foes alive.

Phoenix

A bird possessed of exquisite beauty and wings of brilliant flame. Phoenix not only flies about the battlefield assailing foes with its blisteringly hot attacks, but also heals the party’s wounds.

—In addition to engulfing enemies in flames with its wings of wildfire, Phoenix can grant buffs with healing effects. It can also revive incapacitated allies and fully recover their HP with Arise, allowing them to return to the front line and continue the fight.

—When it departs the field of battle, Phoenix unleashes Rebirth Flame, which recovers the party’s HP and spells a fiery death any foes within its wide range. A single feather falls from Phoenix’s wings, enveloping the battlefield in burning flames, after which the bird rises from the cinders to deal the final blow.

■ System: Relationships

Bonds of Friendship

Cloud’s actions and the way he responds to other party members while conversing with them will affect his relationship with them.

With a strong enough bond, you may even reap some benefits, so whenever you’re faced with a decision, you might want to think hard before responding—especially if it concerns your favorite character.

Loveless

A theatrical production based on the classic epic poem Loveless.

It depicts a hero’s fight against the Dragon King, the tyrannical ruler of Guardia, as well as his love for Princess Rosa.

Thanks to the latest in VR technology, the Gold Saucer’s Golden Theatre brings this play to life like never before. Depending on your relationship with your fellow theatergoers, the person playing Rosa may even change—along with parts of the script.

Final Fantasy VII Rebirth, the second game in the Final Fantasy VII remake trilogy, will launch for PlayStation 5 on February 29, 2024.

#Final Fantasy VII Rebirth #FFVII Rebirth #Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth #FF7 Rebirth #Final Fantasy VII Remake #FFVIIR #Final Fantasy 7 Remake #FF7R #Final Fantasy VII #FFVII #Final Fantasy 7 #FF7 #Final Fantasy #Square Enix #video game #PS5 #TGA 2023 #The Game Awards #long post

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year

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THIS DAMNED BRAINROT WONT JUST LEAVE MY MIND SINCE I SAW A FANART SINCE 3 DAYS BEFORE!!!

so i’ve recently started reading Vagabond and the main character Miyamoto Musashi uses both of his swords in some fights. the katana in his right and the wakizashi (short short samurai carry alongside their katanas) in his left.

so i found these absolutely GORGEOUS fanarts if scaramouche was kept by ei and became the electro archon and i had a wild thought.

wandering ronin!reader who came across the traveler and paimon by pure chance in liyue and decided to help them out on their travels becoming their friend and ally.

wandering ronin!reader who doesn’t have any vision but managed to take on the 11th of the fatui harbingers and beat him, who became famous for it.

wandering ronin!reader who went to inazuma with the traveler to continue looking for their twin.

wandering ronin!reader who’s stopped by a strange young, handsome man when he said “the one who’s renowned as the master of dual blades. i want you as my personal bodyguard and chamberlain”

wandering ronin!reader who doesn’t give a fuck about the gods, straight up unabashedly declares they don’t care who the fuck he is as the people around yelp in surprise.

wandering ronin!reader gets introduced to the electro archon, raiden kunikuzushi and is called upon by him for a duel. “if i were to win, you will become mine. but if i were to lose then you’re free to do whatever you please”

wandering ronin!reader who accepts said duel and loses by merely a single stroke of their katana. beaten by the great muso-no-hitotachi of the archon of inazuma.

wandering ronin!reader who wakes up with their wound of the raiden’s slash bandaged up with the cause of the wound sitting beside them, who smiles when he sees you’re awake, proudly declaring “you’ve lost. now you’re all mine. you belong to me now ‘master of the dual blade’”

#nobu.writes #nobu.brainrots #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader fluff #genshin impact x reader angst #genshin x reader fluff #genshin x reader angst #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #scaramouche hurt/comfort

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sasukes-tomathoes · 15 days

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Dissecting Naruto’s Ending in Good Faith

Let's consider the possibility that Kishimoto's ending was deliberate—that things ended how they should've, and some plots weren't mistakes (looking at you, Kaguya).

Okay, hear me out. By assuming this, we can explore the series with a good-faith reading. Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the series as an adult, and it’s shaken up many of my beliefs and perceptions—it's somewhat distressing, so I’ve been processing all this in therapy too, and coming to key conclusions. I think It's crucial to understand the motivations behind Kishimoto's choices, not just within the Narutoverse but also within the Kishiverse. Why did he make the decisions he did?

Why did he suddenly introduce reincarnations and fate? Aliens? Why the couples that seemingly came out of nowhere? Why doesn't Naruto quite change the system, or help the Hyugas? The final arc, overall, just seemed quite jarring, with some plots (like fate) seemingly subverting the message of the series.

I wonder, then, if Kishimoto's ending shows more of a realistic world rather than an idealized one. Reality often unfolds messily and sadly, devoid of perfect resolutions. Whether intentional or not, Kishimoto's storytelling may reflect his acknowledgment of the imperfect nature of existence. His reality bleeds into his creation, and he's subject to the same harsh realities his characters face.

Fate, Justice, and Change

In this unideal depiction, Naruto and Sasuke's actions are tied to fate rather than free will, Sasuke doesn't achieve his revolution, Naruto doesn't dismantle the shinobi system, and both end up in marriages that seem sudden and unsatisfactory.

If Kishimoto indeed intended this, why? Well, change often takes time, and sometimes change doesn’t even happen at all. People can become tired of fighting for a cause in certain ways, and settle for smaller victories. Relationships may not always align with desires, leading to compromises for convenience.

It's intriguing that Kishimoto explores themes of defying fate while ultimately making Naruto destined to save the world anyway. By making even the protagonists constrained by destiny, Kishimoto echoes historical cycles of rise and fall. Perhaps there's something inevitable about human love and hatred. We can begin to see Kishimoto's philosophical musings on how the universe came to be—the First Cause theory, that there's a divine Creator behind the universe. Or, perhaps, no matter the circumstances or our destinies, we must try to make our own decisions.

And, Sasuke's lack of revolution may not be a complete surrender. He doesn't fully support the system, remaining detached from the bureaucratic and familial norms by traveling. He pursues justice by roaming the world as a vagabond, championing justice as a vigilante. Sasuke has never been one to adhere strictly to Konoha's rules; he eschews the headband and prioritizes loyalty to his morals and loved ones. His rebellion does not manifest as he initially envisioned because his youthful idealism inevitably wanes. But this doesn’t take away from his fight, because Kishimoto portrays him as insightful and intelligent, showing that Sasuke can recognize the pragmatic benefits of partial conformity. He forever remains committed to his pursuit of justice by traveling and aiding others. Thus, his true surrender lies in acknowledging that he can be loved without compromising his strength, refuting the notion of love as a weakness.

As for Naruto, he isn't ignorant—he does comprehend the situation fully, sharing a deep understanding with Sasuke that transcends words (“I know your heart, and you mine” telepathic conversations). While it doesn't seem like much has changed, the events in Boruto unfold merely two decades after Naruto's era, a short span in historical terms. Significant societal transformations typically require centuries, not mere decades. Nevertheless, Naruto succeeds in establishing an era of peace, which Kishimoto shows through the relatively low stakes in Boruto. And when there are threats, they often manifest on a cosmic scale involving gods and extraterrestrial beings. While Naruto and Sasuke have brokered peace among nations, they acknowledge the inevitability of conflicts and warfare. Naruto's focus shifts towards fortifying the system itself, striving for safety within the constraints of reality.

Unexpected and Reluctant Couples

To thoroughly analyze the series, we must also examine the role of romance, as Kishimoto's introduction of romantic pairings significantly impacts plot themes, character development, and motivations. Whether we embrace it or not, these pairings alter the essence of characters in ways previously unseen.

In the canon material (manga and anime main story only), Sasuke and Naruto exhibit no romantic interest in Sakura and Hinata throughout the series. In fact, neither actively pursues romance in general. Sasuke states as such to Kakashi, and Naruto tells Jiraiya he’s not interested in girls. While Naruto initially does have feelings for Sakura, he eventually relinquishes them. Both protagonists prioritize their ideological missions above all else, with exceptions made for their friendship with each other. Sasuke, for instance, abandons his vendetta against Itachi when he sacrifices himself for Naruto in the Land of Waves, while Naruto is willing to forsake his dream of becoming Hokage to die to save Sasuke from loneliness and hatred.

So, how does Kishimoto portray their eventual marriages? Sakura pursues Sasuke persistently, repeatedly confessing her feelings until he ultimately relents and agrees to a family life with her. Meanwhile, Naruto displays no romantic interest in Hinata, even disregarding her confession during the battle with Pain. When he eventually marries her and starts a family, it feels contrived and dispassionate, a jarring image contrasting the boisterous Naruto we know. These relationships seem to emerge out of duty and resignation rather than genuine affection. Both Sasuke and Naruto appear worn down by their wives' persistence, leading them to reluctantly accept their marriages.

These couples have sparked considerable debate within the fandom, and rightly so, because they are not healthy or truly romantic relationships; rather, the depiction reflects the harsh realities of many real-life relationships. Kishimoto portrays Naruto and Sasuke's marriages with little prior development; perhaps a deliberate narrative choice rather than an oversight, highlighting their dissatisfaction through their roles as absentee fathers.

And in terms of specifics, Naruto's marriage seems to revolve more around Hinata than anything else. Consider this: why is Naruto portrayed as uncharacteristically serious and subdued when interacting with Hinata? Even during the pivotal moment when he finally confesses his love to her, his demeanor remains stoic and solemn. Where is the goofy and expressive Naruto we know and love? Additionally, why does Kishimoto include comments from other characters urging Naruto to "treat her well"? Because Naruto's marriage is not primarily about him; Hinata simply happened to be there, and it’s his duty to follow up on that.

And for Sasuke, why do we see panels like the family dinner in Boruto where Sasuke appears utterly miserable? Why is Sasuke never around? Why didn’t Kishimoto even give them a kiss scene? Why does Sasuke mostly display emotions when he's engaged in combat or interacting with Naruto? It's because Sasuke finds purpose and vitality in fighting for his beliefs, and Naruto is the only character depicted by Kishimoto who truly understands Sasuke's innermost thoughts and feelings. Sakura doesn't get Sasuke's essence. Isn't a marriage supposed to be built on true understanding, and progression?

One way we can see it is, Kishimoto, as an artist, is deliberate with his drawings, and these details are not mistakes. Canonically, both Sasuke and Naruto are depicted as tired or subdued in their relationships. Despite Kishimoto drawing them blushing in various situations before, neither of them ever exhibits such reactions when interacting with their wives. This deliberate choice by Kishimoto, despite them being his beloved main characters, shows that Sasuke and Naruto are not in love with Sakura and Hinata.

Love and (lack of) Romance

Sasuke and Naruto are not portrayed as romantic individuals; rather, they are depicted as traumatized fighters and idealists driven by a desire to change the world.

Kishimoto remains true to this characterization throughout the series, extending into Boruto. While Naruto is largely a series about love, it's not focused on romantic love. Instead, it delves into the concept of transcendent love and optimism amidst adversity, encompassing love found in seeking revenge, striving to change the world, and fostering bonds of friendship and loyalty. The relationship between Naruto and Sasuke is the one Kishimoto gives the most development to in the series, and embodies nuances of love, rivalry, loyalty, and compromise. This love isn’t necessarily romantic, but it can also be anything because it is transcendent love. This part is up to you to decide and I believe doesn’t take away from their story either way.

Another question that arises is, does Kishimoto really just suck at writing romance? Well, not really. He’s demonstrated his ability to craft compelling romances, such as those between Minato and Kushina, and Asuma and Kurenai. However, he chose not to apply this to Naruto and Hinata or Sasuke and Sakura. Although, he does show that Sasuke cares for Karin at one point, even awakening a new power for her, but takes it back as their relationship ultimately falls victim to Sasuke's madness at the time (although I believe this relationship, along with Naruto x Sasuke, can tentatively be argued for, but I digress for now).

These decisions reflect 1) the fact that Naruto and Sasuke's characters are not about romantic love; their goals and convictions for justice are prioritized above all else 2) Hinata and Sakura are not The Ones for them. Thus, their seemingly unhappy relationships serve as a reflection of their de-prioritization of romantic love in favor of their greater missions.

Further, realistically, people don't always end up with their ideal partners. Many people settle in relationships because they desire families or because they are pursued by others, rather than actively seeking out their soulmates. Kishimoto chooses to depict Naruto and Sasuke with a lack of emotional expression with their respective spouses. Even in the presence of their own children, Naruto and Sasuke are not depicted with joyful expressions, suggesting a lack of fulfillment in their familial roles.

The Whitepill

Ultimately, the way things turned out seems disheartening at first because shows are meant to inspire and provide an escape from reality. Throughout the series, Kishimoto led us to believe in the possibility of an ideal ending, where change is attainable and love conquers all.

But, Kishimoto's decision to depict Naruto and Sasuke's inability to achieve 100% of what we desire is, in fact, profound. The truth is, we can't always get exactly what we want, but we can make small compromises and strive for justice in whatever ways we can. This struggle is something humanity has faced throughout its history. Our world is far from ideal. But, we are still able to achieve bits of justice in ways we can; we get just enough to keep us going, to leave us with the thirst for more.

Naruto and Sasuke's best efforts serve as inspiration for us to take up the mantle and continue the fight.

Perhaps Kishimoto portrays Sasuke's surrender not because he believes Naruto is unequivocally right, but because Sasuke wants to choose love, and is inherently kind and idealistic. He cares deeply about his friend and desires to see positive change in the world. Sasuke's journey leads him to become a protector of not just Konoha, but all villages, reflecting his compassion for people everywhere.

Similarly, Kishimoto may depict Naruto continuing on as part of the existing system not because Naruto is complacent, but because he's someone who seeks to work within established frameworks rather than tearing them down completely. This approach doesn't diminish Naruto's convictions or his commitment to change; rather, it reflects his pragmatic approach to achieving his goals while minimizing disruption

Ideal World and Optimism

Despite this, Naruto’s ending does not really make sense in an ideal world. In an ideal world, there would be a more perfect compromise, we wouldn't be bound by our fate, and the oppressive shinobi system would be dismantled. Naruto and Sasuke would have more time to heal and explore the world alone, and eventually find fulfillment in their love lives; Sasuke would find someone who truly understands him, while Naruto would enjoy a relationship where he can be his true, expressive self. Sakura would be able to move past her childhood infatuation and grow personally, while Hinata would gain confidence and develop her own identity.

Therefore, reading from a purely Narutoverse standpoint, the issues I mentioned do, in fact, undermine the themes and relationships built over the course of the narrative. Maybe Kishimoto fumbled after all, and Boruto sucks, and is simply a cash grab. Or, he intentionally wanted to troll us—suddenly breaking all conventional storytelling rules is suspicious, right? But, there are many influences that led to this, and Kishimoto's mindscape and reality surely play a vital role.

Regardless, Kishimoto's big mistake is being too subtle and abrupt in introducing the new concepts at the end. However, in doing so, he has successfully sparked ongoing disagreement and discourse that persists even a decade after the series concluded.

In this sense, he has effectively brought attention to the messages: make love, not war; seek change, not complacency; and find The One, don’t settle. And even if I’m wrong in everything and this whole essay is just a copium, it's a lot better to believe in my ideals than to accept defeat. Because, Naruto taught me one invaluable lesson—no matter the odds, never give up.

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harveyb-wabbit92 · 11 months

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[Hobie and his neighbor R/n accidently get thrown into jail (their just in Holding) after an incident, R/n was going over to Hobie’s flat to yell at him to turn down the music, while they’re arguing a woman comes rushing down the hall almost knocking R/n down.

the woman drops her bag in the process and R/n picks up the bag (Despite Hobie telling her not to touch it.) And calls out to the woman only for a scary amount of drugs & money to fall out of the bag, Next thing they knew, R/n and a facepalming Hobie were surrounded by Bobbies and hauled to jail for suspicion of robbery and drug smuggling.

the police chief believes that they’re innocent, R/n knowing how Hobie acts around the police, made sure he kept his mouth shut while they were questioned. but until they can get the footage from the building crappy cameras the two are stuck there. While they’re moping about it the chief’s wife comes in and while hugging her husband the wife looks at the guard standing in front of Hobie and R/n’s cell with bedroom eyes she blows him a kiss and winks.

Hobie snorts trying stifle a laugh while R/n’s jaw drops at boldness of the wife. Their guard smirks gives the wife a little nod than stands up a bit straighter when the Chief, completely unaware, turns to look at the stunned detainees and assures them they’ll be out soon.

Cut to an hour later Hobie and R/n are watching their guard and the chief’s wife vigorously making out in full view of their cell.]

Chief’s Wife: *breathless* Aron stop!

Guard *aka Aron*: Melissa you’re trembling, what’s wrong?

Melissa: Ian’s getting getting suspicious! You know he’s been asking questions at the gentlemen’s club! We have to get out of here!

*Hobie rolls his eyes as R/n follow them completely enthralled.*

Aron: … And say goodbye to all that money? I don’t think so.

*grabs Melissa’s hands*

Aron: We just need to bide our time.

Melissa: *slaps Aron hands away* How can I trust you Aron? when you haven’t even told Charlene about us yet?!

Aron: *appalled* have a heart Mellissa, the woman’s still in a coma!

*Melissa scoffs and looks away, R/n’s jaw drops, Hobie couldn’t care less.*

R/n, whispering in disbelief: a coma?

{Cue Ian walking in, Aron runs to the break room.}

Ian: Hi Honey! *Melissa smiles innocently at him*

Ian: *dropping the nice act* I just got back from the ambassador’s office, he thinks he going to kill our little real estate deal...

Melissa: We can’t let him do that, what about those pictures of him and that male escort?

Ian: There on their way to the news papers right now... We’re gonna destroy the old bastard!

Melissa: Perfect, Now all we have to worry about is Old man Jenkins... Maybe we should send your friend Eric to pay him a visit?

[They giggle to each other as another officer brings in a man who looked homeless, the man hurries into the cell and stands next to R/n excited.]

Vagabond: What did I miss?

*Hobie shakes his head*

[later, R/n and her new friend are enticed listening to Ian tell Melissa a tragic story of his past, while Hobie stares at cell wall seemingly in his own little world.]

Ian:... And as I pulled her from the wreckage, She was so..*chokes up* d-disfigured, that I didn’t even know... It was my own sister! *breaks down crying*

Melissa: Don’t worry, Dimitri is the finest reconstructive surgeon in the world!

R/n: *whisper* Who’s Dimitri?

Vagabond: *whisper* He’s the head doctor at central Medical, him and Melissa had an affair last year then he-

Ian” SHUT UP IN THERE!

*R/n and the vagabond jump away from the bars startled, as Ian breaks down crying again.*

[later.]

Melissa, to Aron and Ian: We can still pull this off!

Aron: You’ll never get passed the DNA test Melissa, Even you’re lies aren’t going to be enough this time!

Ian: But Aron If you didn’t buy the mining rights, Than who did?

Aron: Don’t either of you see what’s going on? the perpetrator who bought the mining rights, is the same person who stole Ms. Margret’s diamond brooch,

*R/n and the vagabond look at each other slack-jawed, Hobie pretending to nap cocks a brow.*

Aron:...They're also the same person who framed Nathan for Andre's murder that horrid night! And that person’s name is...

Prison Guard: Okay Missy you and Your buddy are free to go.

R/n: Awww...

Hobie: *jumps off the cot outraged*What?!

Prison Guard: Move it.

[R/n complies while dragging a protesting and struggling Hobie behind her.]

Hobie: No! Five more minutes, You can’t just do this to me now! dammit!

R/n: C’mon... Brown, Don’t make this harder than it has to be.

Hobie: It was the Ambassador right? or Thurston?! No no The janitor...Wait no he’s Ian’s amnesic brother! Ekk!

*He gets yanked out the office by one of the guards, while Ian, Melissa and Aron look at him like he's insane.*

#long post #S: malcolm in the middle #spiderverse incorrect quotes #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #platonic x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #afab reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk #spiderman incorrect quotes #random ocs #tw: cheating #tw: drugs mention

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noirs-pages · 11 months

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Lucifer 1

Summary: This particular demon that Diavolo brought in interacted with you and Solomon very differently. So much attitude stuffed in that tiny feathered body of his.

(wow, you all really enjoyed that last one huh?)

Anytime you would enter a specific part of the house, particular the little room that Solomon swore he’d turn into his office one day but never bothered, there would be this pressure on your head. Nothing physical, it doesn’t weigh down in the same way with, say, a book upon your scalp, but more as though there’s a looming hand over your self, waiting to crush you down.

That, as you’ve come to know over the years, was the power behind a high demon’s stare that has rendered so many of your colleges numb with fear. A show of power that has permanently warped the perception of these little creatures that had forms that weren’t those common black blobs.

Honestly, to this day, you could never fully understand why such a stare had this much of an effect on the average person. It felt no different than dealing with a stoic mage who’s been in power for just a bit too long. You thought it was just simple exaggeration, but with what you were taught back in university, that was not the case.

You suppose this was just another privilege that comes with being favored by your little Diavolo.

“You’re not exactly the best at hiding,” you called out, lightly spinning the platter of food out of boredom, “you can come out of the bookshelf now. I know you’re hungry.”

Whenever you come face to face with this little feathered creature, you can tell he has no clue how to interact with you. You’ve bore witness to his glare when Diavolo first brought him here in this house, but that was only time he ever thinned his eyes so. You remember Diavolo widening his wings, just the slightest bit, and just like that, the black bird with peacock patterned feathers became complaint, in a way.

In a way, besides the horns, this demon reminded you of those beautiful sirens with their many vibrant feathers. Though, mostly, you have to say he looks like a corrupted version of those angel doves that have been rising in popularity. Though, compared to them, this poor critter was but a shadow. Whatever stress he was under before being brought here was apparent in his various bald spots and weak plumage.

You set the platter on and he still doesn’t look at you in the eyes. You stand before him as he settles himself on Solomon’s disused desk, eyes bouncing around your form rather than at it. He didn’t fear you, you would recognize that body language. Rather, it seems like this demon dove was trying to keep himself quiet in the way one would inside a temple.

This bird you have yet to name didn’t fear you, but he felt on the cusp of it.

“Oh, has he started eating yet?” And, of course, Solomon would pop his head in at an unfortunate time.

As though the food vanished out of existence, the little bird leveled a harsh glare to your roommate. His wings, shabby as they are, widened as though to flap him away, the peacock patterns in his feathers swirling in such a way that reminded you that, yes, this was in fact a demon. They reminded you of his own eyes.

Solomon, much like you, was unaffected by his hostility, though he didn’t cross into the room. Glad to see he’s keeping your advice in mind. One has to be delicate with these creatures that are full of distrust.

And, just so Solomon doesn’t try anything while you’re not looking, you push him back and closed the door.

You simply sighed. Solomon knows what he did wrong.

“You know…” he started.

You just hummed for him to continue.

“I have to say, this is my house and that little guest of yours makes me feel like I don’t belong here. He treats me like a bother, an unwanted vagabond, in my own home.”

“I mean, can you blame him?” you shrugged, “The first person he saw was me, so he probably thought this house was mine.”

“It just, such a shame,” Solomon shook his head, “First you steal Barbatos from me,”

“Buddy, I had no control over that one.” He’s never going to let that one go, huh?

“And now you have another powerful pet at your disposal with seemingly no effort at all. You have to understand my frustration with all this.”

You snorted. “I know and it’s funny for me.”

“Your cruelty knows no bounds, does it?”

“Hey, you’re the one that wants to keep me around.”

#obey me #omswd #nightbringer #noir's pages #noir's pages exclusive #drabble #house of lamentation #lucifer #(om) house pet au #reader insert

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kingkatsuki · 2 months

Note

Hi! I've been going through your blog (bc its so good?!?! Thank you so much for writing so much Bakugou content!!!!) and just got really inspired by your Dragon King Bakugou universe to write about something urging reader to leave. I hope it's okay but I wanted to share what came out of it:

---

You had to leave.

Rumours of a vengeful vagabond out for Dragon King Bakugou's blood had spread. Although this is not the first and certainly would not be the last person seeking revenge, this particular instance caught your attention. Every descriptor about him was deeply familiar to you and, beyond your wildest hopes, reminds you of your brother. And so, you had to leave.

It was simple really, almost laughingly so. All you had to do was request for some extra furs here, a larger bag there, and oh, you were fancying some cured meats lately! No matter what you asked for, they were brought to you immediately, for you were the woman cherished by the dragon king himself. His greatest prize. You had packed all the necessities as well as some of the jewels and gold Bakugou insisted on lavishing you with.

Just take it, woman. You know we dragons love to have shiny things and you're mine so of course my woman is going to have the best jewels.

Your heart squeezes at the memory of his brash words paired with his gentle hands as he adorned you with his spools. Physically leaving was easy, yes; steeling your resolve was the hard part.

---

Taking one last look behind you at the castle you had called home for so many moons, you take a breath.

"So you're gonna leave just like that?" You freeze, heart stopping at the sound of his voice. You had been so careful.

And you were, spacing your requests out between other mundane ones to not let anyone draw connections. But this was Bakugou, how could he not have known when he memorizes every breath you take. When he commits all your favourite things to heart so he can bring you more to make up for everything he has taken. When he is so painfully aware that he fell for a woman who could never love him with all that she is.

"I'm sorry...my King"

He scoffs "Am I still your king even when you are leaving?"

And though you cannot bear to look into his eyes, swirling with hurt, betrayal, and anger, you must because he deserves at least that much. "You will always have a piece of me."

"But never the entirety, right" his distain masking what he really wants to say stay, please. But how could he ask you to choose him over your family, to take yet another important thing away from you again, to ask you to choose him when you never had a choice in coming here in the first place.

Your lips set into a thin line, holding back the lump in your throat and the comforting words you wanted to give him. Because at the end of the day he was right, he could never have you entirely, not when your brother might be out there. Your brother, who helped raise you, cherish you, and mourned you and everyone he knew when he came back to a pile of rubble. You had to go back to him, you had to let him know that he is not alone in the world and maybe you can distract him enough to stop his quest for vengeance.

Seeing the resolve in your eyes strengthen spurns Bakugou to try even though he knows he is fighting a losing battle "Is there nothing I can do to make you stay? I would get on my knees to beg if you so wishes it, just say the word."

"Bakugou if you really loved me then let me leave. If you do not, then you can command me to stay." And that is what seals it. Dragon King Bakugou who has never lost a fight in his life, for the first time cannot fight back. Because no matter what may come to pass, if there is one truth in the world it is surely that he loves you.

And so he turns around, tears in his eyes and heart in his throat, no matter how hard he tried, it was never be enough to change how you two started. "Go," he chokes out, "before I regret it"

"Thank you," you whisper, the wind carrying your voice over "Katsuki." And you're off, running into the distance, free. The complete opposite of how you arrived, strapped to the saddle of a dragon.

That was the first time, Katsuki thinks, and the last. That you've ever called him by his name.

#and then months later when katsuki is starting to become numb to the pain #only because he keeps fighting and fighting and fighting to the point of exhaustion so he has no more energy to think about you #but he always has energy when it comes to you #especially when he fists his cock at night to the memory of his name on your lips #anyways months later you're at the doorsteps of his castle #this time of your own free will #his heart nearly stops at the sight of you #at the scent of you #he thinks its a hallucinations #until you step forward and say his name #somehow its so much sweeter than his memory of it and thats when he starts to realize that this is real #and you stay for good #and maybe that was the first time katsuki was given instead of him taking #i love reading your tags but i don't think that really works in an ask but this is me trying to emulate

Ahhh thank you so much!

I love the angst of this. Like it pains you to leave, but you’re doing it because you know what your brother is capable of and what might happen if you stay.

And I can imagine that moment where Bakugou catches you, and you want him to tell you to stay because it’s gonna physically hurt you to leave him, but you know deep down it’s what you have to do.

And you spend all the time away from him longing for him? And he’s doing the exact same— but maybe he becomes more ruthless, more cold? Because he’s lost the only thing in his life worth having. No amount of riches or kingdoms can compare— and you find out that he’s planning an attack on your brother so you have to stop it? To explain to him the real reason why you left😭

#not mine #dragon king bakugou

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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year

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Love to Spare - Part 3 (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader Friendship, fluff Word count: 2.1k Part 2 Part 4 Masterpost

Summary: Anthony helps you navigate your first ball

You approached that oncoming social season with more anxiety than you had ever felt in your life. Your mother took what little money you could spare to outfit you with an array of shimmering, impractical gowns, and she began attending teas with the other society women, inserting your family name into conversations and trying to establish the narrative that you were quite ready to find a match and start a family, now that you had learned enough from your father to ensure a robust education for your future children.

Anthony called on you just after arriving in town, and the two of you walked through your small back garden while your mother sat in a corner as chaperone, looking entirely too hopeful at the sight of you together.

“Dear god, Anthony, you must help me survive this.” You whispered harshly. “This is your world, not mine, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He chuckled deep in his chest. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you quite so flustered. You certainly can’t behave this way on the dance floor.”

“I won’t.” You swatted at him lightly. “I know how to dance, I just don’t know who to dance with. I’ve hardly ever interacted with your set. I’m already going to be an oddity, the poor little destitute spinster swooping in at the last minute for scraps, and I know they’ll all be talking about me. I suppose I don’t care. I just don’t want to feed into anyone’s perceptions of me. I want to talk to the right people, keep my head down, find a generally respectable man and be done with it.”

He smiled wryly. “You talk about finding a match like it’s a business transaction.”

“And you don’t?” You volleyed back at him.

He tilted his head in that way that showed annoyance but concession. “So you are not looking for great wealth or titles, just a stable reputation and average income?”

“Yes.” You nodded firmly.

“I shall also add a degree of kindness to the criteria. And proximity. I won’t have you marrying some brute or a Scotsman who’s going to whisk you off to who knows where.” He looped his arm around yours as you rounded a corner of hedgerows.

You scoffed. “Trying to find someone with property in or close to London is going to narrow the prospects, surely. Those are the wealthier families.”

“Perhaps, but it also means I can keep a closer eye on this fellow, whoever he turns out to be.”

“Anthony,” you stopped short, tugging on his arm so he faced you. “Are you intending to spy on me and my future husband?”

“Y/f/n,” he said shortly, eyes burning intently, “I intend to ensure your wellbeing. I will do everything in my power to help you find a suitable match, but even then, a lot of these vagabonds put on their best faces for the season, but are imbeciles or monsters behind closed doors. I want to know who he is, who his people are, and what the rumors are from his estates. I want to know that he will take care of you and your family. If that turns out not to be the case after you are wed, I will hear about it and I will rectify it. You deserve nothing less.”

You were rooted to the spot, gratitude fluttering breathlessly in your chest as tears threatened the corners of your eyes. This was a father’s role, to look after you in such a way, and he was stepping in without even being asked, as if it were his natural obligation. He could see that you were overcome and gave your arm a gentle squeeze. “I will help you through this, you have my word. The first ball is Lady Danbury’s, two nights from now. I will find you when you arrive and be at your disposal for the night.”

---

Lady Danbury’s ball, the first of your life, was overwhelming. Outfitted in a silver gown and accompanied by your nervous mother, you moved slowly through the crowds, towering palms and flower arrangements of the space, a cavernous ballroom of one of the ton’s new money families. Columns swept up to the vaulted ceiling and couples swept expertly across the dance floor. You secured a dance card to your wrist and then promptly started to melt into the wall until a familiar voice whispered warmly in your ear.

“You look absolutely lovely.” You jumped, but it was just Anthony, of course, smiling proudly at you. It was the first time you had ever seen him in tails and you began to understand his rakish reputation. He was devastatingly handsome. “Might I have your first dance?”

You smirked at each other sarcastically as he added his name to your card but then immediately pulled you onto the floor as the music began. Happily, it was a waltz, easy enough for you to remember and glide through without making a fool of yourself.

“So, how are you feeling?” He asked, a peacocking smile on his face. He loved having the upper hand of experience in this setting, that was clear.

“I’m alright.” You smiled. This was actually somewhat fun. “Are you just dancing with me to draw attention and make the other men think I am more desirable than I actually am?” You quirked an eyebrow at him conspiratorially.

“That was the idea.” He grinned, twirling you under his arm. “I think it’s working. All eyes are on you.”

You wrapped your arm around his shoulders and looked behind him as you moved across the floor. Heads indeed were turning, eyes were trying to meet yours, a nod or two was aimed in your direction. Blonde men, dark haired men, tall and short and old and young.

You leaned in toward his ear, “Thank you,” you whispered.

His hand pressed tighter into your back. “I’m only doing half the work. You really do look lovely. They should be falling over themselves to dance with you.” You squeezed his hand affectionately, and he continued. “But I have a few names in mind, gentlemen that I think meet our criteria. I will introduce them to you. And keep an eye out for anyone who interests you. I will tell you who they truly are.”

The dance was drawing to an end as you pulled away from each other, hands clasped and outstretched. “Why Lord Bridgerton,” you smirked. “How could I do this without you?” Both smiling, you dropped your hands and bowed, then you followed him off the dance floor and into a sea of black coattails and eager eyes. Anthony introduced you to so many sirs and barons, even a marquis and an earl, that your head began to spin. Your dance card was quickly filled and then you worked down the list, swirling across the dance floor as Anthony and your mother stood watch from the perimeter.

You were surprised how very few of the men on your dance card were physically repulsive. You had assumed you would only be of interest to widowed old toads, and while one of them might have been said to match that description, the others were decent looking men close enough to you in age. But unfortunately, they all proved to be either devastatingly dull or insultingly arrogant. Within three sentences exchanged, it became clear why these men had not yet married, despite their titles or reputations. One spent the entire dance describing the issues he had with his carriage axles on the ride in, and the other insisted that he would not keep books in his family home because he didn’t want a wife to be distracted away from her childrearing duties.

You plastered a smile to your face, feigning interest and biting your tongue as you moved automatically through the steps of each dance, praying for it to end. You began to feel guilty that Anthony’s selections for you were all proving to be unbearable failures, and on your fourth dance, your mind began to drift. You held onto the man’s shoulders as he spun you around the room, a lanky blonde baron whose name you had already forgotten, and let your eyes cast around for anything more interesting to focus on than what he was saying.

That’s when you saw him. It could have been that he stood out a bit taller than most of the other men, or it could have been that his brand of handsome was precisely to your taste, but in retrospect you think it was because there was something so familiar about him, almost as if you had met him before. With black hair and smiling eyes, he was laughing, and you immediately felt drawn to him. A minute later, when the baron pivoted you toward the same corner, the man was still there, drinking champagne. You could only snap your attention away when your dance partner called your name, but you didn’t much care if he found you rude. You wouldn’t be speaking to him again after that dance, which mercifully ended a few moments later.

Then there was the dance with the widowed toad, and you couldn’t help your eyes from scanning across the room for the dark haired man. He had moved, and you saw his back in a knot of people. At one point you could have sworn he turned and met your eyes, but then the toad lowered you into a dip and you held your breath as his garlicky smell bore down on you. When finally released from his clutches, you excused yourself from the dance floor and moved to a corner, desperately drowning a glass of lemonade, wishing more than anything that it was gin. This ball was becoming more of what you had always assumed - lots of pomp and beauty, but dull and rotten within. Shortly, Anthony appeared at your side.

“What do you think? Anyone worth pursuing?”

You swallowed the lemonade with a grimace. “Anthony, I deeply, deeply appreciate that you are helping me, but…”

He sighed, anticipating the rest of your thought. “Alright. I knew this would be difficult.” He grumbled.

You grew a big indignant. “I need to marry, Anthony, but I insist on someone with half a brain in their head, a modicum of respect for women, and who doesn’t smell like a barnyard.”

He rolled his eyes and huffed, but you could tell he understood. “Alright then. Let’s have you pick. Anyone here catching your eye? I’m ready to list off the litany of their misdeeds.”

You shot him a sour look, then turned back to survey the room. It took a minute of searching, but then you found him in a nearby corner, arms crossed, looking bemused.

“Him,” you nodded in the dark haired man’s direction.

Anthony, sipping his own glass of lemonade, followed your gaze and then swallowed hard, his eyes going wide. “Him?!”

“Yes, him.” You said assertively.

Anthony set down his glass, shaking his head. “No. Not that one. Surely you mean some other gentleman.”

“Anthony,” You gritted your teeth. “The tall, dark haired one. Tell me about him.”

Then he pointed outright. “That man?”

“Yes,” You hissed and batted his arm down. “Stop pointing! Who is he?”

He turned back to you and pressed his lips together, his whole face turning red with repressed laughter. He looked about to bust at the seams.

“Oh no,” You groaned. “What’s wrong with him? You’re about to tell me he’s the most scandal-riddled lecher, who’s penniless and has a wake of bastards behind him, aren’t you?”

Anthony kept shaking his head, snorting and staring at the floor.

“Anthony,” You punched him lightly in the shoulder, not much caring who saw. “Stop laughing! You are not helping me! Tell me who he is. Is he attached? What…”

“Oh look, he’s coming this way.” He suddenly straightened and wiped the smirk from his face, standing puffed and proud at your side as the dark haired man approached. You turned to face him and nearly dropped your glass. He grew more handsome with each step closer, as the details of his features came into view. Tall and lean, with long slender fingers, a tie playfully worn askew, perfectly tousled hair, and a crooked smile spreading across his face.

“Benedict,” Anthony bellowed, beckoning him into your circle. “Please let me introduce you to Miss y/n.”

You clambered to set your glass down and extend your hand. A gentle grasping of your fingers would have been appropriate, but the tall man bent and kissed you through your glove, his eyes never leaving yours, sparkling, grey and mischievous. You forgot to breathe until Anthony spoke again.

“Miss y/l/n, this is Benedict Bridgerton. My brother.”

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n #regency #regency era #female reader #platonic #fluff

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

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A Dangerous Game. Yan Childe x F Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, some cat-and-mouse vibes, not SFW implications at the end. Word count: 3k.

When Childe plopped your once hidden bag full of supplies clearly meant to aid in an escape attempt on the table during breakfast, you thought it was all ever.

That knapsack, pitiful as it was in its subpar contents, was a testimony to your hard work. It spoke to months of sneaking about at night to pilfer whatever provisions you could get your hands on. Dried meats, waterskins, flimsy matches; items that sounded theoretically solid for a trip into the Snezhnayan wilderness. There was no explaining it away.

You thought to speak up. Give an apology, maybe, or make a clumsy claim of ignorance.

He struck first, as he so often does.

“You must think so little of me,” he sighed. You thought the oatmeal you ate minutes prior might creep back up. He was upset — he had to be upset. That you would try to shatter the illusion of a happily wed couple that he’d painstakingly built, piece by piece, fragile as they were. Would this be where his patience dried up? After all, this was the worst betrayal of his trust you could make. It’s inevitable a sizable rift would form between you both in the aftermath.

That’s what you figured, until he finished his thought.

“If you believe this is sufficient enough. No, no, that’d make it insultingly easy for me. We need to get you a compass. A hunting knife, perhaps… if you’re going to do this, I want you at nothing less than your best. Got it?”

… Huh?

What you thought was the end proved itself to be a fresh beginning. A shot in the dark that, no matter how shaky your hands were on the trigger, you needed to take. At first, you thought it to be a joke made in poor taste. He excelled at those. What better way to torment you than to act like was he actually giving you a chance? Then, at the last second, he’d pull the rug from beneath you and laugh. Deride you and begin your real punishment in earnest.

That moment never happened.

He came and went a few times, humming to himself while he did so. Your knapsack was dwarfed by the assortment of items he brought. A sturdy backpack, built to endure the elements, a lighter, rope, first aid kit, knife, the works. He even went so far as to pack it himself and remind you of where to find everything.

“Why…” your voice was low and unsteady, “Why are you doing this?”

Childe laughed in a way that felt more familiar than his sudden shift in personality. Now that was a sound you knew, a sound which meant you best prepare for mockery delivered with a wolfish grin.

“Call me a hypocrite, but I understand the cabin fever you’re enduring. You want your independence back, don’t you? Your freedom? And I want the exact opposite. Now, how do we best resolve this? Compromise is apparently a staple in relationships, but I don’t think either of us would settle for that. So! How about this: a deal. The best one you’re ever going to get from me, too.”

His grin widened at your clear intrigue. “I’ll give you a fair shot at escape. Everything you see here, sweet thing? Could last you weeks in the wilderness. Plenty of time to get to civilization and be on your merry way should you play your cards right. Since I adore you, truly, I’ll give you the benefit of a day's head start. If you successfully pull this off, I won’t ever bother you again. I swear on my life—,” you narrowed your eyes and he sighed, “My family’s life.”

“A head start?” You repeated, cautious, but undeniably curious.

“Uh-huh. I’m generous, but not generous enough to not pursue my own interests. What sort of husband would I be if I didn’t try to collect my vagabond wife? After that first day passes, I’m coming to get you. And when I do… well, I better not hear any more complaining about how ‘unfair’ this situation is. You get your chance and I get mine.”

He extended his hand out to you.

“So, how about it? We have ourselves a deal?”

Back then, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. You thought you came to terms with that — your original plan did include running away with far less. This survival backpack at least ensured you had a fighting chance. Childe, oddly enough, never broke any promises he made you. Hence why he made so few. For him to swear on the well-being of his family, whom he cherished dearly, further cemented this.

So you shook his hand and almost felt like his equal for the first time in years.

Presently, that same hand is struggling to light a fire from how much it trembles.

You can see your breath materialize before your weary eyes. Squinting, you fixate on the taunting flame that refuses to spread, frustration and despair building in equal tandem. The sticks you gathered are moist from snow. You waited a few long, agonizing hours for them to dry off, to no avail. The fire didn’t catch any easier than when you tried earlier. At the most, you’d get a weak ember to start before it gave out in a pitiful puff.

Water. You want water. Freedom is what remained highest on your list of priorities for so long, that it felt strange to push it into the recesses of your mind for the time being. Your waterskin sits a few feet away, discarded, useless in its emptiness. Four days it had lasted you in total. All the nonstop physical exertion depleted your supply faster than you ever could’ve anticipated. If only you had known, you would’ve rationed it better…

The wintery landscape you’ve been traversing is abundant in water, just in the wrong form. A solid form. Childe had cautioned you against eating raw snow if it ever came down to it, explaining that he’d rather not lose you to infection. There’s no fun in that, he said, bastard that he is. Naturally, you don’t want to die from that either. Callous words or not, they stopped you from shoveling handfuls of puffy white snow into your dry mouth, not until you could heat it up.

Over a fire that refused to start.

The dank underpass you’ve situated yourself in is not helping. You’re convinced that everything about Snezhnaya screams inhabitable. From the dreary gray skies promising nonstop snowfall, trees dead caught in an everlasting winter, to the sparse wildlife. That’ll be the next problem you contend with. The dried meats, while ideal for preservation, are salty and further boost your thirst.

His words from before echo in your subconscious.

“I’ll give you a fair shot at escape.”

Rubbing your numb hands together, you think to scoff, choosing not to only because your throat can produce no such sound. The sun is slowly collapsing into the horizon. If the days are wretched, then night has to be a special divine punishment; it escapes your comprehension how anything could be so cold.

You lean against the cave’s porous wall.

What a devious deterrent Childe’s idea ended up being. On his own terms, he got to showcase how futile a hastily strung together escape attempt would be. You don’t doubt that you would’ve been dead by now had you departed with your original knapsack. A fair shot at escape. There was never such an idyllic path. Not when you were pitted against a monster in human form like Childe. So long as there was breath in his lungs, you would remain at his mercy.

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, an exhausted half of your psyche reasons. The expansive home he kept you in, far removed from the more populated areas of Snezhnaya, has everything you could want and more. Food that isn’t salty and chewy. Fresh water to drink and bathe in. A comfortable mattress that adheres to your body’s shape.

You know you shouldn’t stay here much longer. In fact, you should’ve erased all evidence of your being here and departed hours ago. If Childe wasn’t hot on your trail before, he most certainly is now. You all but left breadcrumbs for him to follow one by one. Budding dehydration can work wonders on your ability to plan and follow through.

Through the grapevine, you’ve heard stories of adventurers going mad with thirst. Seeing apparitions that weren’t there. Hearing voices that their ears never truly detected. Will that be the humiliating state he finds you in? Raving like a madman as if you had a captive audience hanging on your every word when in reality, you had never been so alone?

Alone. You had been wanting extensive time to yourself. If this is how the Archons have decided to answer your prayers, they might be crueler than you thought.

“Now there’s an expression I’ve seen a thousand times.”

From the cave’s entrance, a jovial voice steals the scene.

Boasting a relaxed gait, he strides toward you, his footsteps reverberating inside the small cavern. Your initial instinct to dash is dampened by the realization your legs won’t move when you tell them too. Recalling what you were just thinking about, you lift a nearby stone in your hand and chuck it in his direction. The throw is weak, but he still dignifies it with a summon of his Hydro blade, slicing through the rock with ease. The surviving remnants clatter behind him listlessly.

Ah. So he’s real, then, you think, frowning.

The Hydro blades dissipate following their use, and subconsciously, you lick your dry lips.

“I come bearing gifts and you try to stone me to death? Phew, now that’s grounds for divorce if I’ve ever seen any. Good thing I’m the forgiving type.”

Childe’s get up is similar to yours, if not heftier. He’s wearing a thick winter coat with the hood over his head of messy ginger locks, his face dusted with pink from the cold. Unlike you, he doesn’t shiver, having no difficulty slinging his backpack over his shoulder and rummaging through the contents. He lifts out a waterskin and tosses it onto your lap. By the weight, you can tell it’s full.

You inspect it as if it contained poison.

“Are you really in a position to be picky?” he laughs, but it’s forced and airy. “Drink up. Your body’s reaching its limit. I’d rather not have to force it down your throat, if at all possible.”

The threat is delivered in such a friendly package, yet you know better than to dismiss it just because of that. He’d do it in a heartbeat should he feel it necessary. You pop open the lid and allow the life-giving substance to revitalize you. Without the slightest bit of decorum, you gulp it down fast, some dribbling from the corner of your mouth in the process.

For a moment, he fixates on the sight. Dull eyes follow the stream with intrigue before he shakes his head and returns to his previous task. He procures a lighter and sets out to work on starting a fire. You think to tell him that it’s no use — you’ve been at it for an embarrassing amount of time — but decide it’s best if he’s occupied. Anything is better than having to face him in your current weak state.

He splits the wood into smaller pieces, and layers them criss-cross on top of each other, allowing marginal space instead of crowding it together. Next, he presses the lighter’s flame against the bottom-most section of wood. With a few well-timed blows, the wood starts to burn, flames growing in intensity as the minutes progress.

“And, voila,” Childe motions to it with pride, as if you weren’t already paying rapt attention. “That is how you start a proper fire, dear. Your attempts were valiant — cute, almost. I’ll give you points for effort.”

You don’t humor him with a response. That is, until a dreadful realization comes crashing down, stealing the breath from your lungs like a punch to the gut.

He was watching you this entire time?

Much to your displeasure, he situates himself beside you. Not trusting your legs, you try to scoot away, only for an arm to wrap itself around your shoulder. Tight, but you know it’s a mere fraction of his otherworldly strength. Loath as you are to admit it, he’s warm. Pleasantly so. If he’s going to latch himself to your person like a leech, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to try and get something out of it for yourself.

“... What expression is that?” You query, your mind stuck on his initial greeting. While your brain understood the individual words, when put together, it didn’t form anything cohesive. Not to you, at least.

“Hm? Ohhh,” he prolongs the syllable in that grating voice of his, “That, yeah. When you frequent the battlefield as often as I do, you learn a lot about other people’s expressions. What it looks like when they think victory is within their grasp, or how nonchalant they try to act when when leading you into a trap…”

He winks at you. “What it looks like when they intend to surrender.”

You ball your hands into fists by your side. Your face feels warm, and for the first time today, you wish it didn’t.

“I thought that would be an excellent time to make my entry and cut our little game short. Though, if you want my opinion — and I doubt you do, but I’ll give it anyway — you gave up the second you sat down in this cave.”

An insult swirls to life on the tip of your tongue. What right did he have to think you had given up? Surrendered? You, who braved a foreign land so hostile, even seasoned adventures would not dare venture out into it? His trivialization has your head spinning. No, you weren’t going to throw in the towel from some thirst. Not after coming this far. He’s just trying to get under your skin, like he always does. Your efforts took courage, perseverance—

—Hanging your head, damnation settles in, ringing clear like a bell.

He’s right. Subjugated by dehydration, you were fantasizing about what it would be like back at his estate. Your prison. That you fought tooth and nail for a chance to crawl out of. You thought that with the right conditions, motivations, and means, you could scrape a narrow victory. Hope that is difficult to cling to is better than no hope at all. On those bleak mornings where you contemplated why you should move at all, that elusive yet oh-so tantalizing hope gave you the strength to get up. Make your little plans and scheme your little schemes.

Childe believes you gave up when you first entered this cave, but if you were to be honest with yourself, it may have been a lot sooner than that.

“How long did it take for you to find me?”

You don’t want to know, but you ask regardless.

“Well, I departed twenty-four hours after you left, just like I said I would. If that was at the crack of dawn and I found your tracks around noon, then… a few hours is my guess.”

A few hours. That was what your greatest efforts culminated to. A few, measly hours.

You throw your head back against the wall, admiring the low-hanging ceiling through lidded eyes. “I’m never getting rid of you, am I?”

No matter how hard you fight. Whatever plots you manufacture, underhanded or not, would be but a bump in the road to someone like him. A minor inconvenience at best and slight annoyance at worst. A Harbinger such as himself isn’t just on another level, he’s at the top of the food chain, looking down at the world from his pedestal.

His gloved hand rubs your arm up and down.

“You can try,” he muses. The fire crackles, illuminating his side profile in warm hues, golden and amber. “As many times as you like, in fact. There’s nothing I can do shy of having you always chained up to prevent that. And, well, I’d prefer not to do that. I’d prefer a lot of things, actually. Your happiness included.”

At this, you bristle. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”

“Do we? Give it some thought, [First]. You have a Harbinger wrapped around your pretty little finger. Whatever you want, I could get. You could travel wherever, whenever. Indulge in the finest luxuries. If you asked… I would even conquer this world and crown you the new ruler. Bring the heads of your enemies to you on a silver platter.”

He’s facing you now, playing with the fabric of your coat. Looking for a zipper, you realize, your breath caught in your throat.

“I’d do anything. No act is too depraved, no request too big,” his face is flushed, but this time, you don’t think it’s from the cold. “I’ve always loved a good fight. I always will, too. Oh, but darling… if I was fighting for you… I simply wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

While you always thought the most disturbing element of Childe’s eyes was how blank they are, this is infinitely worse. There’s a flicker in the abyssal ocean staring back at you. An ember, low yet filled to the brim with malignant potential, that would combust if you willed it. He wants to go down in flames if you are the kindle.

Childe locates the zipper he’s been searching for and pulls it down, revealing your shirt, and showcasing more of your chest. He greedily takes in the sight. Modesty bids you to turn away, come up with some lame excuse so might decide not to ravish you, but you pause. Sparks from the fire ascend in a humble journey, before fading away into obscurity. You blink. Then smile, your eyes squinting in glee, muscles straining from how harsh your lips tug upward.

You take his hand and place it to your chest, in what might be the most surprising thing he’s seen you do yet.

He’s inadvertently given you the answer to the predicament.

There’s no don’t need to destroy him. He’ll destroy himself, if it means getting the slightest taste of you.

So a taste is what you will give.

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #not sfw #commissons #my stuff

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tinnictheguardian · 1 year

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Dimitri’s sins during his savage boar phase

What “evil” acts did Dimitri commit during his savage boar phase? This is a topic that keeps coming up because Dimitri is extremely hard on himself regarding his actions during his 5 years as a vagabond. So what does the game say?

In his notes it says:

1181 - Escapes the coup of Fhirdiad and becomes a vagrant. 1182 - Begins murdering Imperial generals/soldiers controlling former Kingdom territories. 1185 - Pursues Imperial troops and ends up at Garreg Mach.

During the start of the Azure Moon War Phase, Yuri tells you, “ You've been snoozing awhile, so allow me to fill you in. There's a madman roaming Faerghus. Imperial troops entering Kingdom settlements are destroyed seemingly overnight. Townspeople on the front lines are terrified, and yet they simultaneously treat this as though he's some sort of hero blazing through the land. Can't imagine their surprise when they realized it was their own prince. ”

Gilbert fills you in more with the following, “ As for myself, I only began to hope three years ago, when I chanced upon some compelling rumours. An Imperial platoon attacked without warning. Incident after incident of Imperial generals being slaughtered in Kingdom territory. It is said that each died in such a brutal, gruesome way that...it is hard to imagine they were killed by human hands. ”

What Dimitri says himself is, “These hands of mine have taken so many lives... Nobles and commoners. Adults and children.”

I would like to note that Sothis refers to all the students, who range from age 16 to 21, as “children” and also, Fleche is both an Imperial soldier and a child because she is below the age of majority. But even by modern standards, killing Fleche is NOT a war crime because she’s an active combatant.

By modern standards, if you take Fleche alive you have to treat her as an innocent victim and do what you can to demobilise her. But if she’s pointing a weapon at you, you can shoot her. Obviously soldiers who are not total psychopaths would and do find the act of killing children, even in an active combat situation where said children are trying to kill you, soul-shattering. But the point is that you are allowed to kill opposition child soldier during active combat.

By medieval standards, which is what Fodlan follows, Dimitri is in the clear as long as the nobles, commoners, adults and children he killed were soldiers. Based on the information we have, it seems clear that Dimitri ONLY killed soldiers.

So the problem wasn’t WHO he killed, he only killed Imperial soldiers who were invading Faerghus, but HOW he killed. He was brutal and gruesome. This does seem to go against the codes of chivalry that Faerghus seems to hold and also I don’t think the Serios faith would preach it being okay to be needlessly cruel to your enemies.

Another thing to note is that Dimitri doesn’t do the dehumanisation thing when it comes to opposition soldiers. In his B-support with Byleth he recalls the time he came across a dead soldier’s body during the Western Rebellion when a minor, non-crest bearing line of the Blaiddyd family challenged his claim to the throne and Rufus’s regency. He says of the soldier, “ He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair. I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter...mother, lover... I'll never know. He was a soldier. An enemy. Someone we had cut down without hesitation. But in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us. “

So Dimitri was brutal to people he never dehumanised to make it easy for him to kill them. So he instead dehumanised himself. He was a monster, a beast, barely human and that’s why he wasn’t just killing but brutalising them. It was most likely a horrible negative loop.

I am killing these humans out of rage and hate. They are invaders but they are still human. I cannot be human if I am committing these acts. I am a monster. Monsters have no mercy when people invade their territory.

I can totally see this loop playing in Dimitri’s head and without his friends to check him, like they do in Hopes, we get the Dimitri we see in Azure Moon who is finally checked by Byleth. When he’s unchecked, as he is in Verdant Wind, he of course leads his friends and the last of his loyal followers to doom.

So, basically, Dimitri, didn’t kill anyone he wasn’t supposed to but was more brutal then he should have been. I think it will depend on individuals how grave they rate his sin of being brutal on the battlefield.

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem: three houses

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theexaltedmoon · 1 year

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Yandere!Volo x Reader

Mount Coronet Rendezvous

Something about the summit of Mount Coronet was unsettling but nostalgic. From the snow drifting on the cliffside and decorating your shoulders to the stairs of the Temple of Sinnoh – well what was previously known as the Temple of Sinnoh, coming back to this place stirred up a roaring cacophony of emotions that was only made worse by the man sitting in the center of it all. You thought he had left. You thought he had vanished into the wilderness of Hisui like a wandering vagabond, and yet, Volo stood tall and confident smack dab in the center of the marble platform. This was unexpected to say the very least, and he was fast approaching! Not hostile but losing one’s guard around Volo would spell certain disaster.

“Hello, my ever-persistent hero~” Volo purred. Yes, something was most definitely wrong with Volo. He wanted nothing to do with you the last time you two were near each other. You are certain he wanted you very much dead. “What’s this? You seem surprised to see me? You know, I have had change of heart, my dear. Growlithes can change their stripes after all.”

You were quick to step back from the ever-encroaching Celestica reject, not allowing him to desecrate your space any longer. “Volo, Growlithes don’t change their spots.” Your tone was bordering on wary. Rightfully so.

“Is that so, my little hero?” He comes so close, so painfully close that you can feel everything pressed up against you, and there is no where to go. No where to run. You were already against the marble pillar, back flattened and all. “Perhaps that is true, but they change when they evolve, eh?”

The finger he would usually wag right under your nose in that superior know it all attitude was now left tracing your jawline as he stared on delving into your eyes with something starving and fierce like a wild Pokémon. His face drew nearer as he stole the breath from your lungs, kissing fiercely with no forgiveness. He bit and clawed at you, far from human, and from your lips he drew the silent gasp, the unheard prayer. Which, Volo took no prisoners and urgently mapped out the cavern of your mouth. He gave you no chance to fight back, no chance to counter. Everything that surrounded you was him and him alone.

When he was finished, he drew back and wiped the saliva that had sullied his face, but Volo did not seem bothered in the slightest. The expected disgust he should have had for you, what you had expected him to direct towards you was instead some twisted satisfaction and a shitty smirk that split his face. Nothing could stop the horror from growing within your chest, and a piece of you pondered just exactly why this was happening. You settled your bearings and refused to meet his eye as you too wiped furiously at your lips and chin. His attention would not tear itself away from you, and the weight of it upon your shoulders made it blaringly clear that you would need to be the one to stop this. “You can’t beat me in a battle! You can’t meet Arceus. So you ‘sully’ his quote unquote chosen one? What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you, Volo!” You screamed at him, now shaking. First there was a snort and a brief chuckle. It was followed shortly by the unsettling roar of uneven laughter. It was too jovial for this to be anything other than manic. “Volo?” You asked cautiously. He shook his head and rubbed his forehead as his eyes twisted shut with manic glee. “Oh, my foolish little hero. You don’t seem to understand just what has changed.”

Okay, now this pissed you off, “Yeah actually. Explain yourself.” “Oh darling dear of mine,” he made to grab the collar of your uniform, “Oh sweet hero of Hisui. You – yes, you – are my new religion, and you are going nowhere.”

#volo x reader #voloposting #reader insert fic #volo #yandere volo #pokemon volo #come get your juice #come get your man #dar says “minors DNI”

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fatehbaz · 5 days

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Hal Langfur's Adrift on an Inland Sea: Misinformation and the Limits of Empire in the Brazilian Backlands sheds valuable light on spaces and processes in the history of colonial Brazil that have been overlooked and understudied, namely those taking place in internal frontier zones - the sertões, or backlands, between and beyond the enclaves governed by Portuguese rule, unstable and unincorporated spaces [...]. Langfur argues that [...] Lisbon made increasingly assertive efforts to survey and establish control over isolated zones after 1750 but that these failed such that the Portuguese imperial state found itself “adrift on an inland sea.” [...]

[T]he axis on which this enterprise fails is information. People made up the infrastructures of communication and data transmission that the Portuguese Empire endeavored to construct and deploy in order to render its domains governable and ever more profitable, but these people had purposes of their own.

The probing tentacles of imperial intelligence gathering met instead with the confusion of rumors, distortions, inflated claims, conflicting reports, disputed facts, and fantasies. [...]

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[Langfur] bring[s] into the conversation [...] accounts of several forays between 1750 and 1820 into the backlands of Minas Gerais [...]. These took place against the exhaustion of the mineral deposits that had fueled the gold rush decades earlier in Minas Gerais and the crown’s relentless pursuit of new deposits that could keep up the flow of alluvial wealth. While these projects foundered, ultimately, new forms of extraction in the form of slave-based export agriculture (coffee) would take their place. [...] [T]he first expedition was led by an ambitious merchant named Inácio Correia Pamplona in the late 1760s who commissioned a scribe to record a diary and compose poems praising his attempts to find gold and subdue Indians and thus extend the empire’s territorial dominion. While Pamplona’s actual accomplishments fell short of the Herculean feats described [...], he was able to cash in his narrative for favors and privileges that made him one of the largest landholders in the captaincy. [...]

The third [expedition] involved José Vieira Couto, a crown-appointed mineralogist, who was appointed to use his scientific expertise to investigate reports of diamond strikes in Western Minas Gerais, particularly of a famed free Black prospector known as Isidoro de Amorim Pereira [...]. The hoped-for diamonds never materialized but Couto [...] deployed a discourse of scientific rigor in an attempt to recast his mission and produce knowledge that would allow the crown to absorb and exploit the territory. [...] Wied established himself as an authority with unrivaled knowledge of Botocudo peoples for an international reading public; his accounts [...] presented the Botocuda as exotic primitives, incommensurable with “civilized society,” [...].

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If these expeditions [...] did not accomplish what the colonial state intended, this was, Langfur argues, a result of the capacity of diverse inland actors to divert, co-opt, and deceive authorities. [...] [Langfur's study] turns on an emphasis of the unacknowledged agency of a variety of marginalized peoples who acted as knowledge brokers: indigenous communities, both enslaved and free Afro-Brazilians, itinerant poor, and others deemed vagabonds and criminals: “the Indigeneous inhabitants separating the colony’s burgeoning capital from its mining heartland retained considerable say over the crown’s ability to impose its sovereign dominion. They largely determined what could be known, what remained a mystery, what could be accomplished, and what was beyond reach in this strategic mountainous expanse” (p. 150).

These frontier informants generated an “informational alchemy,” a mix of fantasy, fabrication, concealment, and contradictory reports [...].

How much information does an empire really require to run? Aren’t fantasies and lies always part of its infrastructures? Is all misinformation of a kind, or what specific misinformation carries with it not only the limits but also failures of empire? Put differently: How to judge the value and distribution of information versus that of representation in the running of an empire? What does the category of information itself conceal? [...] [A] horizon of intelligibility [...] is ultimately given by the Portuguese colonial state, so that the work of the information brokers is both possibly overstated and yet curiously limited, measured always in the terms set out by colonizing projects. [...] [I]n what ways [...] [do] such limits continue to bleed through once absorbed into the fabric of writing, determining the very grid of intelligibility?

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All text above by: Adriana Johnson. "Review of Langfur, Hal. Adrift on an Inland Sea: Misinformation and the Limits of Empire in the Brazilian Backlands". H-Environment, H-Net Reviews. February 2024. Published by H-Net online at: h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=59701. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

#abolition #ecology #landscape #borders

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