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yandere-sins · 8 months

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The Orcas' Tale - Lyr's Story I

And here he is, our sweetest, craziest, loveliest boy ♥ Honestly, it was fun giving Lyr a bit more personality than he had in the original story, and I am also glad to have provided him with a cute little darling of his own. I hope you guys enjoy slipping into the role of a mermaid, and ehem look forward to a different kind of spice (;

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: Yandere!Orca Merman x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con Kissing/Touching/Fingering, Bondage kind of), Violence (Threats to kill/harmm reader, Sharp teeth/claws, Almost tearing off reader's jaw), Monsters/Non-Human reader, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Hinting at death/non-con, Feeding the reader seal meat, Being caught in a net, Long post

"They just won't stop bugging! Like, I get it, Mom, bringing a human into the pod was stupid and dangerous, but it's not our fault that Nerrocan left!"

Heaving a deep sigh, Lyr looked up at the water's surface through the holes in the ceiling of the cove he had found. Light was shimmering into the mostly calm water, a few tiny fish slipping in and out of the cave-like structure while he rested on his back, ignoring any wildlife of the ocean as he had no interest in small fry. They didn't get close enough to be caught, wary of the superior predators of the sea, who, unbeknownst to anyone's eyes, looked more like friends hanging out than what they really were—captor and captive.

Despite his annoyance and loud complaining, he looked tired. You had witnessed many a mood of his ever since he decided to hide you away for his own enjoyment, but as of late, every time Lyr visited you, he looked more exhausted than the last. As usual, his eyes were dull, and his dorsal fin collapsed. For an orca in his best years, he looked like he'd been dragged through the blue hell, but it invoked no sympathy inside you. All you could do was listen and observe, but knowing he was the merman responsible for your misery, you felt no pity for your clearly mentally unstable captor. Reaching to his left, Lyr picked another piece of meat from the seal carcass he had hunted, slipping the food into his mouth before continuing his rant.

"Who'd have known that guy had it in him. Can't help but respect him getting the fuck out of the pod, and I'm glad I don't have to see his wannabe goody two-fin face anymore. It's been getting harder to put him in his place with how aggressive he suddenly got."

"Won't they miss him?"

Lyr stopped chewing, his head falling to the side, facing you. Muddy purple eyes sprang to life, reflecting the light as brilliant as rare corals. With one big gulp, he devoured what had been left of his meal, a toothy grin spreading over his lips. "Look who decided to talk! Who's gonna miss him? His mommy? Sure. It's not like she has a dozen more just like him."

For a moment, you held his stare, watched the grin stretch wider, and twisted his expression into a grimace before you lowered your eyes, settling on drawing swirls into the sand. It wasn't like you wanted to have a conversation with him, but listening day in and day out to his crazy rambles and complaints was just as bovine as engaging with the madman.

"That's not very nice. I'm sure his mom loves them all equally. You've got a big family, after all."

"Nah," he retorted, shaking his head. Picking out a bone from the seal's body, he used it as a toothpick, cleaning out the sharp-edged teeth he loved flashing you. "Orcas aren't like yours. We don't love each other just because we share the same blood or come from the same mother. Either you're useful to the pod and do what you're told, or you're at the very bottom of the food chain. I could never be the same as Krill, no matter how hard I tried. He was always Mom's favorite, so now I just don't try anymore. It doesn't even matter to them where I am, but it suits me. Now I got a lot more time to spend with ya!"

Now it was your time to grimace while Lyr flopped onto his side and closer to you, surely noticing the tension growing in your body as you felt appalled by the ever-closing distance. He tossed the bone carelessly into the water while your movements abruptly stopped. You wished it was as easy as the flap of your fin to get away from him, but you were rendered helpless to his touch, unable to get away from his pointed finger dragging over your forearm, his claw teasing your softer skin. He didn't just have the advantage of size, but you knew that no matter how haggard he might appear, you'd be no match against him in a scuffle. Much less now that you were trapped.

And your growling stomach wasn't helping.

While you let out an exasperated groan, Lyr laughed loudly about your misery, finding your dependency on him to not starve hilarious. As much as you despised being at his mercy, you had no choice but to humor him if you wanted to survive, even when he enjoyed your reluctant behavior so much that he held his stomach aching from laughter.

"You could have just told me you're hungry!" he teased, grinning from ear to ear at you while you gave him an ashamed glare, staying silent as a stone in your spot, belly-down in the sand. "I don't mind sharing, ya know? There's still so much of this yummy seal left, it would be a shame to give it to the fish. You know what you gotta do to earn it, right?"

Gritting your teeth, you watched the smugness wash over his expression as he sent you into yet another predicament. You even considered eating a heap of sand instead of bowing to his will. As if being trapped wasn't enough, he just had to exploit you at every chance he got, and you hated how easily your survival instinct made these reckless decisions for you, which he'd never let you live down. The hole in your stomach didn't get any smaller. Lyr's last visit had been a few days already, and you were in no condition to hunt efficiently for yourself. So aside from small, stupid fish that came too close to you, you hadn't eaten outside of his visits, and it was starting to show.

You knew what you had to do. Unfortunately.

No matter how much your brain screamed at you not to, your body knew it instinctively, propping itself onto your forearms while you sighed inwardly, feeling defeated by your needs. Moving was the hardest part about being caught in a net. It was an unusual heavy net with clunky weights that had slung around your fin and lower body, dragging you to the ground where Lyr had found you. Even he had been surprised by the sturdiness of this net when he first inspected it but quickly had taken advantage of the situation, dragging you to this much more hidden place and out of plain sight so he had you all to himself. At least he didn't kill you; that's what you told yourself. But death was more merciful than Lyr, that much you knew by now.

He had no problem being patient when it meant watching you struggle as you dragged yourself toward him. Lyr didn't even mind you digging your meager claws into his skin when you grabbed onto him, using his body to support yourself while you lifted off the ground, close enough to feel his watery breath ghost against your face. Placing your lips over his, you flinched away in reluctance before forcing yourself to keep going, counting to three this time before twisting your head to the side.

Lyr hummed, sounding dissatisfied as you felt his hand brush up your spine. Nesting his palm at the nape of your neck, you refused to look forward again until he twisted his own head to find your lips, his much sharper, much more dangerous claws only curling into place the second he got what he wanted. Now, with an appreciative chortle, he relished in stealing another kiss, tongue swiping over your pursed lips until he found a hole in your defense, worming into your mouth.

You were no stranger when it came to mating habits, but compared to your fellow dolphins, Lyr was surprisingly gentle. He relished in your defiance but seemed to enjoy enticing little moans and gasps from you just as much. His tongue was a choking hazard in a mouth that wasn't fit to house it. Though you had gills, you could barely concentrate on breathing while you fought against him as best as you could. Still, he took his sweet time exploring every inch, letting air flow out of his mouth and into yours, never not considering you while doing what he wanted. He even softened his hold on you, rubbing his palms down your back in a spine-tingling motion when you stopped struggling against him. It was almost like he was rewarding you for good behavior, and it was sickeningly pleasurable.

But the taste of flesh and blood lingering on his tongue made your stomach growl, your body eagerly moving towards him, hoping to find food. All you gained was a chuckle before he nicked your lower lip with his sharp teeth in warning. Your fangs probably wouldn't be able to bite through his thick tongue, but despite this weird obsession he had with you, he was almost more wary of you than you of him. It seemed like he could never cut himself loose completely despite having nothing to fear from an easy target like you. He seemed so relaxed and unbothered whenever he visited you, but it was almost as if he was plagued by invisible ghosts whispering into his ears.

Despite his warning, you found his arms wrapping around your body, pulling you on top of him before you two rolled over to the other side, Lyr resting you gently down in the sand. He didn't care that the net that had trapped you to the ocean floor also got dragged over his tail, unbothered by possibly getting stuck like you were. Perhaps he simply didn't mind that thought as much as you did. To be fair, considering he was much stronger and the material had yet to wrap around and get stuck on his fins like it had with yours, it posed no threat to the orca. And yet, it was infuriating to you, who wanted nothing more than to swim away and reunite with your own kind.

Propping his arm in the sand next to your head, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile and a mischievous spark in his eyes but reached over you, grabbing a piece of seal meat. He brought it up to your lips, dabbing it against them, though you refused to open for him. "I can feed myself just fine," you reminded him, wiggling your hands in the air to demonstrate your ability to hold things before trying to take the food from him.

"Now, don't be ungrateful, or I'll bring you a turtle shell to gnaw on next time."

You could feel your face contort in disgust at his suggestion, reluctantly parting your lips to nib at the food dangling in front of your face. Once you had a taste of meat, your body couldn't resist, gobbling up every last bite hungrily while Lyr kept providing it for you with a smile. If he wasn't fast enough, your teeth would drag over his fingers, but he wouldn't even flinch or scold you, his fin slapping against the sand instead, almost as if he enjoyed your nibbles.

Seal wasn't your preferred food, but in times of food scarcity—like it has ever since getting holed up with Lyr—it was as good as any. The rest of the carcass was devoured faster than your excited stomach wanted, and you still didn't feel satisfied after eating every last piece. Had you been free, you'd have gone hunt for more without a moment of rest. But the gnawing hunger had subsided at least, and if Lyr came back again soon, you'd at least not have to endure it for too long until the next meal.

Pausing your thoughts, you realized you had just longed for Lyr to provide for you again soon, immediately turning the hunger into nausea as you pondered on it.

You were too quiet, too long for his taste as he sought out your lips again after your meal. Brushing his thumb over them, your instinct mistook his finger for more food. You could barely stop yourself from biting into his gnarly claw as the urge to eat won over again. However, your mouth was open long enough as realization dawned on you of what you were doing, for him to cup your face instead, turning it slightly to him so his tongue could lick over your lips and dip in again. Lyr hummed merrily as he tasted the seal on you, unashamed, unbothered by you struggling to keep him out, fingers wrapping around his throat—unsuccessful in deterring him. He was waiting for your breath to run out before taking the chance to deepen the kiss again, ever so patient with you.

"I think I get it now," he mumbled, breaking the kiss before leaving some more superficial brushes of his lips against yours. "Nerrocan was onto something. We just didn't know it."

"Why didn't you go with him then?" you mumbled back, turning your face away to avoid any more unwanted affection, even if it meant resting it in his palm.

To your surprise, Lyr scoffed loudly, and you flinched away as you could feel his mood shift. His palm didn't grow stiff and rigid. However, you still forced yourself away from it, too afraid he might—possibly on accident, but much more likely intentionally—rake his claws over your face, leaving wounds deep and painful. It was useless, however, as he used the same hand to collect your floating hair instead, forcing you to look at him while his gaze drilled into you with fury swirling in his eyes.

"Listen, I might not remember how we got to that place, but I know all the shit they did to us!"

You whimpered as he pulled your hair back, your neck struggling to keep up with his demands from your position. Lyr took a sharp breath, pausing the angry flashing of his fangs as he watched you cowering in front of him, ever so slightly calming down at the sight of fear flashing in your eyes. You hated him when he mocked you and also when he was delighted in your suffering. But you hated his anger more, his haggard body still crushing and his fangs and claws sharp despite whatever he went through. One bite into your throat, and you were a goner, especially with how exposed the soft flesh was to him now.

"I'll never go back there! Never! They cut us open, prod inside us with their disgusting hands, and inject strange fluids into me! They… They changed us. Changed me. And now I don't even know–"

His hand was trembling in your hair as he let out a shuddering breath. You caught his eyes for only a split second, watching the brilliant purple turn into mushy darkness. Lyr shook his head as if confused while his voice trailed off, his free hand rising as he hid his face from you for a moment. You weren't sure if you were supposed to say anything, and even if, what could you say to that? You had no idea what he's been through, and even though you had your fair share of struggles in your life, you never experienced something quite as dramatic as he described. Then again, why would you try to comfort him? Lyr was perfectly able to help you in your time of need but had refused cutting the net for you again and again. Why would you give him kindness if he refused to do the same for you?

Being free of his attention, your eyes fell lower on his body. Just shy of where your tail rested over his. With his tail flipped over, you had a clear view of his collapsed dorsal fin, a pitiful sight for any creature like you. It made you think that something was wrong with him in the first place, as this was an unusual sight on any of your kinds. If what he said was true, maybe this experience had done this to him, understandably so, as it sounded awful. You couldn't bring yourself not to pity him despite your negative feelings towards him.

Next to you, Lyr took a deep breath, pushing his short hair out of his face before he searched for your gaze. Desperately. Needy. Somewhere to ground him. You weren't sure what you saw in the darkened violet, but his features looked drained of vitality, as if the moment of silence had exhausted him completely. It made him look… vulnerable. But then he smiled again, his eyes lit up, and the strange feelings swirling in his irises were covered by excitement as he found yours, soaking in the sight before him.

"I really do get it now," he admitted, grin parting his lips, revealing his protruding upper left fang, the sharpest of them all. "I was so confused about the strange looks Nerrocan gave the human, but I realize I've been the same with ya—whatever it means. I keep coming back here just to see you. I want to stay right here with you, forever. Just us two. I'll hunt for us and make this cave pretty. Whatcha think, lil' dolphin?"

"N-No, I don't think that will work," you mumbled, averting your eyes again as his gaze became too intense to keep up the eye contact. He seemed to drill into you as if to excavate your soul and lay it bare for him to tease and enjoy. You didn't like it one bit when he looked at you so intensely.

You could tell by now that he was working himself into another ramble, but you didn't like how much it focused around you. Usually, he was complaining about his situation in his pod and how much his mom hounded him with expectations. Lately, his rants focused more on the human and Nerrocan and the waves their arrival and disappearance caused in their family. But while he was always strange when it came to you, being the sole focus of his attention felt uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure I understand, but my pod is probably searching for me, and I've been away for so long already. They probably miss me terribly! If- If only I could get the net off, I wouldn't have to bother you at all! I'd be gone before you know it, and you wouldn't have to look after me! I'd be fine! Maybe you can try cutting it again with your claws, or… or maybe--"

Lifting your torso from the ground, you grabbed the net at its highest point, tugging at it and trying to loosen it up. You realized it was you who was rambling this time, but the conversation had taken a turn that you didn't want to make reality at all cost. You couldn't imagine yourself being this guy's pretty little cave warmer for all eternity, preferring the roughness of your own kind over his madness. Orcas weren't known to be gentle housemakers, no matter how much Lyr tried to sell it to you. Not even when he handled you gently, yet never did what you wanted.

However, you were surprised when he reached down to the net, yanking at it with you. A yelp escaped you as he pulled your tail over his, the net cutting into your flesh painfully as he twisted and pulled until you had to fold up your tail, getting more and more caught. Nets usually weren't as much of a problem to sirens, but this one was sturdier and heavier than any fishing net you had encountered in your long life.

So when Lyr caught your hands in it, you began to panic.

"Wait! I'm getting wrapped up in it! Please stop, this isn't helping!" Your plea was ignored as Lyr slung the grating material over your wrists a few more times, ignoring your thrashing and panic with the calm of someone who had all the time in the world. Who had nothing to fear, especially not you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to make him understand you wanted to get out of the net and not strung up in it more until he was done messing with you, flipping you over and pulling you close against him.

"That's not what I meant," you sobbed as he rested his head on top of yours, only cushioned by the arm he lent you as a headrest.

"Isn't this so much better?" he asked, feigning innocence. But you couldn't believe his audacity to make you even more miserable. It was as if he wanted to make you as miserable as he was. "This way, you can't leave without my help. And I doubt your little pod will find you here."

"I just want to go home," you mumbled, anger slowly overtaking as the panic subsided. Your hands were bound tightly, your fin being the one hurting when you tried to lift them and vice versa. You felt truly trapped, and that made you angry rather than sad. It was strange, considering how, just a few minutes ago, you had almost pitied this male, but now, all you felt was rage.

"It's your home, now. Our home. We'll live here, unbothered by others. Just the two of us."

"It's not my home! Let me go!" you snapped, lips pulled back in a snarl. Dolphins were by far not the scariest predators, but your teeth were sharp and threatening as well!

Or so you thought.

Lyr laughed at your display of a threat, seemingly amused that you were still fighting him. Without warning, he raised his hand to your face, squeezing both sides of your jaw until the pressure forced you to open it, and stuck his pointer and middle finger inside. He only needed these two to press your tongue down, your mouth wide agape with his claws scarily close to the back of your throat. You tried to close your jaw, bite down until he'd retract his hand, but Lyr didn't care. He didn't even mind your teeth digging into his flesh, leaving cute little cuts against his slick skin.

"Careful, lil' dolphin. You're not in a position to make such scary demands of me, don't you know that already? I could kill ya."

Unafraid of getting hurt, the pressure on your lower jaw increased, fingers purposely impaling themselves on your teeth while pain made you jolt as you felt your jaw dislodging slowly. You wiggled your trapped body, gurgling against his fingers before finally looking up at him as best as possible from your position, noticing the smug grin on his face.

"I won't, of course."

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, dragging out the motion until the last moment, you coughed, the taste of his blood on your tongue. There was no time to recover as Lyr nuzzled his face into the side of yours, oblivious to the thrumming in your jaw as you tried to relax it while the blood flow resumed.

"You're too much fun alive, so I won't kill you," he admitted, grabbing your hands that rested against your chest and pulling them down, elevating some of the strain on your tail, and you finally breathed out. "But if you want to get rid of the net, maybe we can find a way to make this even more fun?"

You felt his lips sink to your cheek, your jawline, then trailing down your neck. A kiss for every one of your gills. The water around you was gentle and warm, but at that moment, it was like jumping into the ice-cold ocean after sunbathing on the surface, shocking and shivering through every bone of yours.

While the arm your head rested on wrapped around your collarbones, holding on to your shoulder, the other hand started to wander lower. His fingers played around with the net, cutting through some of the squares until he could stick his hand through it, placing his palm on your stomach before sinking it dangerously low and pulling your hands down with it. So you wouldn't be able to grasp his arm on top, trying to make him stop as Lyr nibbled on your earlobe, the protruding fang drawing blood that he licked up without hesitation.

"Stop that!" you complained as his touch grew uncomfortably intimate, the pain in your jaw reverberating as you spoke. It had long dawned on you what his definition of 'fun' was, but you weren't as naive as to believe he'd actually stick to his word and cut you loose after getting what he wanted. It was better not to risk it than risk it for nothing. Your kind wasn't known to be gentle to their chosen lovers, but you never thought about mating with an orca. It wasn't normal! Wasn't what you were made to do! And if you were to survive it… you didn't want to think of the carnage that all of him would leave behind on your body.

If his size was any indication, you were sure you couldn't take him without getting absolutely ruined in the process—and not the pleasurable kind of destroyed. More the ripped apart and bleeding out type.

His hand found your slit, fingertip brushing lightly yet incessantly over it, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. You whimpered, ashamedly so, but instead of the expected mockery, you felt his chest rumble, a purr reaching your ears. It was soothing, relaxing, his body warming you from behind even as you desperately tried to deny feeling anything from his touch.

But Lyr wasn't stingy with his surprises.

A chirp so oddly familiar resounded behind you, yet you were sure you had never heard that voice before. It took you a moment of complete stillness to realize it had been Lyr making that sound, yet it wasn't orca. It was dolphin. "How did you…?" you gasped, ignoring his inquisitive fingers prodding at your entrance, begging to be let in without having to use force.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, lil' dolphin," he hummed, imitating some more whistles and clicks that were perfect and comforting, like the calls of your pod, yet were spoken by an uncanny voice. You felt the tears well up in our eyes again, as you couldn't help but gasp, following it with a moan, his finger slipping into you, teasing the soft, warm flesh awaiting him there. Lyr let out an appreciative sound that made your core clench with desire, all praise and all dolphin for letting him in.

"You don't even like me," you gasped, hands wringing in the net. You were completely and utterly caught in this trap, and he had free range to your body while slowly gaining access to your very soul by imitating your own kind's calls of desire and adoration. Lyr's mouth pulled taut in a big grin as he felt you unwillingly relax and shudder in his arms, your tail buckling into his hand. You looked up to see the madness dance with satisfaction and need in his eyes before he leaned down to kiss you.

"That's where you're wrong, lil' dolphin," he chuckled, kissing you one more time, long and with relish, his fingers playing with you, adding one after the other as you loosened up to him, exploring the depths not meant for an orca.

"I like you very, very much."

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my-my-my · 7 months

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Can we have yandere souske hc with human female s/o please

Sure!

TW: stalking, yandere tropes, gaslighting, deception. NSFW HCs at the end.

Tags: @stygianoir

No one would assume Sosuke has yandere tendencies, even when he's dating you. Perception is huge: everyone thinks you're the seemingly cute, sweet and docile couple.

It doesn't quite click to you until you're further along in your relationship with him that something isn't quite right.

At first - you took Sosuke at face value: kind, polite and well-mannered. But it was a bit strange he knew where you were going, or what you were up to!

But you would doubt yourself on whether he was stalking you, "he's such a busy man, how would he have the time?" and to keep you on your toes, Sosuke would feign ignorance on things you had done, or were going to do (but your schedule is ingrained in his mind).

You notice his mood would shift immediately if you talked about certain people for too long. It was strange, you thought - in conversations with other people, when those certain people were brought up, Sosuke wouldn't bat an eye. But your lips uttering their name... you had never seen such fury in his eyes.

If you hung out with said people, Sosuke was in tow, making sure there was distance between you and the person invoking his fury (maybe it's Shinji, maybe it's Urahara).

But he isn't physically violent - it's more that his words are cold and filled with venom. His quick wit turns into a sharp tongue, passive aggressive insults and to his perceived "threats" that would steal you away from him.

NSFW

In bed, during these moods, he restrains you - teasing you until your begging for him.

There's a sense of coldness from him as he teases you into submission. A distance where you try to wrack your brain on why his mood shifts. His gaze is cold, but his touch is warm.

Sometimes there's toys - pulling a vibrator away from your clit as you thrash about in bed.

Other times there's whips involved - Sosuke politely asks you to count each hit on your ass. Other times he's spanking you while you choke on his cock.

But he makes it worth it - at least you tell yourself. Once Sosuke's satisfied with your unrelenting begging and tears, he'll reward you.

You're still restrained as he kisses and sucks on your clit. It's not enough pressure as you'd like, so you cry and beg until your throat is hoarse, then he'll lap at you as if he hadn't tasted you in ages. But he won't stop at your first orgasm, he'll keep going until he's had his fill.

After all is said and done, and he undoes the restraints and checks up on you. You make a small note to yourself to rile him up again, wondering what else he has in store for you next time.

#bleach #aizen sousuke #aizen sosuke #aizen smut #aizen imagines #bleach images #bleach smut #aizen x reader #aizen x you #aizen x y/n #answered #anonymous #bleach writings #sosuke aizen #sousuke aizen #aizen sosuke x reader #aizen sosuke x you

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mari-the-hedgiewolf · 5 months

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The True King of Invokations (Mini Seelie! Reader Insert) (1/2)

When you arrived in the world of Teyvat, you didn't expect to find yourself in a seelie body of all things. Unspoken words turned into thrills and squeaks, your floating mass stretching out barely to form a semblance of arms, communication was definitely a problem you had to overcome. So it was quite fortunate that despite the crowded streets of Sumeru, you managed to spot Cyno, the General Mahamatra himself, coming back from a mission, his headpiece easily recognizable from a distance.

As for Cyno, he didn't expect a squeaking, squishy blob to tackle his face into a hug, taking a second to process what just happened. What were you supposed to be? He wasn't sure, but it doesn't look like you were a threat. Nevertheless, he had to report back from his duty, so he settled you down on the grass nearby. "You should probably go, little one" he spoke, his unwavering gaze meeting your own for a second before he started walking away. But you were obstinate, and no matter how hard he tried to softly shoo you away as he walked towards the Akademiya, you always came back, stubbornly plopping yourself between his headpiece as a final stand, little arms holding onto the ears, squeaking as loudly as you could whenever his hand approached to tug you away. Unsure of what to do, he let you stay there, since you weren't causing any trouble for now. But he would definitely have to seek Tighnari's advice at the end of the day.

The walk towards Gandharva Ville was quite pleasant. Different types of flora danced softly with the gentle breeze, as the water followed its course to a great fall, providing a jaw dropping view, its beauty enhanced by the last sun rays of this beautiful day. Soon enough, a familiar tree could be seen in the distance, a few forest rangers coming and going, your form literally glowing as you laid your gaze on Collei, catching her attention. "Oh! Mister Cyno! What are you doing here?" she said, slightly surprised at the sudden visit, her eyes glancing curiously at your form, who floated out of your comfortable position to hover around her, squeaking happily at her presence. "I just finished my duties for the day, and as you can see, I made a . . . new acquaintance on the way" He started to explain, just as you were making yourself comfortable in Collei's warm, slightly calloused hands "No idea what they could be though. I thought Tighnari could help".

Collei couldn't help but be curious as well. She looked down at you, moving you slightly to free one of her hands so she could scratch behind your ear softly. Oh, that was simply delightful, you couldn't help but literally melt under her friendly scritches, loudly purring, vibrating your small form, earning a giggle in the process. "They're really cute, Mister Cyno. Where did you find them?" "It's more like they found me first and didn't let go when I was inside the city" She thought for a moment "Well, Master Tighnari is out on patrol, but he should come back soon enough. Would you like to stay for a while until he comes back?" She asked. Bless her big heart, she gives you cuteness aggression, but it's hard to squish her when you're so small. Cyno seems to contemplate the offer before nodding, stating he could go for a round or two of Genius Invokation TCG.

You perked up at the mention of the card game. Back at your own world, while you're no expert at the alternative game mode, you found the change of pace refreshing. Sure, the dice RNG made you figuratively tear out your hair sometimes, but it was fun trying to combine strategies while using your favorite characters' cards as units! Overseeing the duel, you could recognize the familiar decks they used in-game, Collei using her card alongside Xiangling and Mona's, while Cyno had his with Razor and Xingqiu's.

Both decks had their advantages, but you were slightly leaning towards Collei for this round, not forgetting how many times she gave you a run for your money in Serious Showdown. Yet, Cyno's gaze told another story. Did he perhaps gain a good hand right from the start? As the duel continued, you started to float around anxiously. Collei managed to defeat both Razor and Xingqiu using her burgeon strategy, but Cyno managed to ult with the Liyue character before he went down, leaving him with his own card, stacked and ready to deal Electro-charged damage, which was dangerous for her since all of her characters were at low health. In the end, the General Mahamatra won by 1 HP, the breath you were holding escaping your non-existent mouth.

It was such a close match, you couldn't help but cheer them both, thrills and squeals filling the air, as you flew around them, quiet laughter following suit just as a certain Forest Watcher entered his house. “Oh? I didn't realize we would have guests today” Tighnari commented, bow safely tucked behind him so he could carry medicinal herbs and botanical samples on his coiled basket “Master Tighnari! You're back!” Collei exclaimed, quickly gathering her deck before standing up. You merely watched as he asked her to sort them out with a quick reply, his attention turning to your blob form, his analyzing gaze making you press against Cyno's, now headpiece free, hair.

“And where did you find your little companion, Cyno?” he questioned, his ears serving as a good distraction for you to fixate on instead of your own nervousness. “They actually found me first more than anything. I wasn't sure about their origins, so I decided to come” the general explained. Tighnari hummed, extending their hand in invitation to you, keeping a respectable distance so you wouldn't be startled. Slowly, you detached from soft light gray locks, floating your way to the black and orange glove. Despite not having a nose, you could sense the natural scent of the forest from him, making you slowly relax on his hold, purring in content.

“I've seen illustrations about them before. Yet it's my first time seeing a mini seelie myself. What a curious critter” Tighnari explained as he scratched behind your ear. How did everyone know it was your weak spot? You're not sure. But you weren't complaining as it meant more pets and scritches from the main Sumeru cast, turning you into a happy, melted mess “Yet precisely because of their rarity that they're often sought-after by hunters. For their sake, it's best if one of us takes care of them in the meantime. I have a feeling this one wants to stay with at least one of us at all times”. By the Archons, this guy is way too smart! You chirped happily as you circled around both males, eliciting a chuckle from both when you nuzzled their cheeks.

Even though your travel to another world was unexpected, you were glad you could count on some of your favorite characters to help you along the way. And as they retired for the night, you looked up to the sky, wondering what kind of interactions you would have next.

(Had to cut it in 2 parts because I was getting carried away with writing, haha. This silly idea has been giving me brainrot for too long, so I decided to write it down. @genshinarchives has some really good seelie! reader stories that inspired this one, so go check them out!~ )

#this is basically a what if 'kuriboh was a player instead of yugi' scenario but in genshin #I just want silly blob to absolutely destroy and shake the Genius Invokation community that's all :>#genshin impact #genshin #genshin cyno #genshin tighnari #genshin collei #genshin reader insert #genshin x reader #seelie! reader #genshin writing #mari-the-hedgiewolf

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lilithlinen · 1 month

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"Daddy" - Tex Johnson x You

Requested by @sunnythebunny7 ❤️❤️I couldn't sleep last night thinking about your request😂❤️.

WARNING: If you're uncomfortable with the 'Daddy kink' don't proceed.

You're laying on the couch, curled up under a blanket watching tv and holding onto one of your plushies for comfort while Tex is away, he said he is on his way, but he hasn't arrived yet. Then suddenly, you hear footsteps, and you sit up thinking it's Tex. "Tex?" you asked softly.

The door opens, and to your surprise, it's not Tex. Instead, it's one of his colleagues, laughing and holding a large Sanrio plushie. He tosses it to you, mocking, "Look at our little baby, still holding her stuffed animal!"

You look stricken, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Your eyes well up with tears, clutching your plushie tightly. Tex's colleague snickers, invoking memories of past incidents where you had been made to feel weak and childlike.

The colleague continues to tease you, commenting on how you should be embarrassed about your collection. "At your age," he smirks, "you should have outgrown this kind of thing."

You try to defend yourself, your voice shaking. "They...they help me cope. When things get hard..." you trail off, unable to continue. The hurtful stares and condescending laughter leave you feeling like a small child again - a helpless, vulnerable target for others' amusement.

Meanwhile, Tex returns from his errand, hearing the commotion. He storms into the room, taking in the scene before him. His face darkens as he fixes the colleague with a cold stare. "You wanna apologize," he growls, making his displeasure known.

The colleague laughs it off, dismissing Tex's anger. "Calm down, buddy. It was just a joke."

But Tex isn't backing down. His hands clench into fists, and his voice drips with menace. "This ain't a joke." He steps closer to the man, his eyes never leaving the intruder. "You don't know what kind of pain this young lady has been through, and you have no right to belittle her coping mechanisms. If you don't watch your tongue, I swear I'll break it for you."

"This," he says through clenched teeth, "is someone I care about." His gaze shifts back to you, softening slightly. A protective fervor burns in his eyes. "You touch her again, and we'll see if you're laughing then."

The tension in the room hangs thick in the air. The colleague hesitates, sensing Tex's unrelenting aggression. Finally, he relents, offering a begrudging apology, "Alright, alright. Sorry, kid. I didn't mean any harm."

Tex nods, satisfied if not entirely pleased. "Good. Now get out."

Once the colleague leaves, Tex turns back to you, offering you a reassuring smile despite the tense situation. Those dark eyes seem to promise safety, a shelter from the harsh world outside. With a hand lightly brushed across your cheek, Tex murmurs, "Don't listen to them, kiddo. They don't know shit."

He glances at the Sanrio plushie lying forgotten near you, picking it up gently and inspecting it carefully. A playful glint appears in his eyes as he adds, "Besides, I think this one's kinda cute. Reminds me of something."

You sniffle, wiping away your tears and holding the plushie close. "It's just...embarrassing. They make me feel like I'm weak, or immature."

Exasperation mixed with fondness colors Tex's deep timbre. "You ain't weak, sugar. Far from it. Just...different than most. Don't let 'em make you doubt who you are." He says, cupping your chin tenderly.

His fingers trace along your jawline, tracing delicate bone structure. As his thumb strokes over your quivering lip, Tex continues, "You give me head like no other, sweety. So experienced, so skilled. What about that is childish?"

Your lips tremble, relief washing over you at Tex's defense. You manage a faint smile and blush deeply.

His fingers trace imaginary patterns on the plushie's fabric, his grin becoming wicked. "Well now, aren't you the lucky one. Daddy's here to protect you. From monsters and rude men alike."

He lifts an eyebrow, a lascivious gleam entering his eyes as he compares the plushie to its supposed inspiration. "But hey, sweetheart...why stop at cute toys when you got the real item right here?"

You blush deeply, averting your gaze. But there's a hint of curiosity too, peeking through your embarrassment. "T-...The real item?"

Tex chuckles, the sound low and throaty. His finger traces a path down your jawline, stopping just below your chin. "That's right," he whispers, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. "The big doggy, waiting to take care of his pup."

Your heart races, pulse fluttering wildly in your chest. You swallow hard, trying not to betray your nervousness. But Tex's words ignite a strange mix of fear and anticipation within you.

"What do you say, kiddo? Want some comfort?" He tilts your head up delicately, capturing those wide, anxious eyes. Tex's voice drops to a velvety purr, "Want me to show you what a real daddy can do?"

You swallow again, hesitating only for a moment. Then, surprisingly, you find courage to meet his gaze boldly. "Show me, daddy..." you breathe out softly, your voice wavering with trepidation.

A slow, satisfying smile spreads across Tex's face. The corner of his lips curls up as if savoring a juicy secret. He sets the plushie toy aside, replacing it with his warm, calloused hand on yours "Very well," he purrs, leading you toward the bedroom. "Let's get started on your education, darling."

As you enter the bedroom, Tex strips off his jacket and shirt nonchalantly. He begins undressing slowly, enjoying every second of your breathless gaze. The muscles of his broad shoulders glisten under the dim light, punctuated by the trimmed beard and mustache framing his features.

He lies on the bed, stretching languidly. A smirk plays at the edges of his lips. "Join me, kiddo."

You hesitate, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in your mouth. Despite your apprehension, you feel a surge of desire course through your veins. Nervously, you follow his command, crawling onto the bed beside him.

Tex reaches out, grasping your waist and pulling you close. His fingertips dance along the curve of your spine, drawing gentle circles that send electric sparks coursing through your body. He nudges you down onto the mattress, positioning himself behind you.

"Ready for daddy's lesson, little girl?" he asks, his voice husky with lust. His thumb brushes against your sensitive spot, eliciting a gasp from you. "Or do you want me to go easier?" adding, "There's no rush, we've got all night." His voice is velvet-soft, filled with understanding and promises of patience. Slowly, Tex shifts his weight over you, pressing into your back gently. Your naked bodies brush against each other, your pulsing arousal barely hiding beneath the sheets.

With practiced ease, he reaches around, tracing his fingers down your core. He strokes your clit gently, coaxing out the wetness that already starts to flow freely. A soft, encouraging word escapes his lips: "Remember, no pain, no gain."

You whimper, arching slightly into his touch. Your eyes squeeze shut as you try to control your breaths, but the building sensation seems too powerful to quell. Tex's fingers slide deeper, massaging your insides tenderly. Each stroke makes you even wetter.

Slowly, Tex withdraws his fingers from the wet heat between your legs. He leans down, kissing your neck passionately while his erection nestles against your backside. "It's time," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "For your first real taste of daddy's love."

Despite the apprehension, you can't help but moan softly at his proximity. Your fears seem to fade a little under his touch, replaced by anticipation and need.

Feeling your discomfort, Tex pauses. A plan forms in his mind, a way to make this less daunting for his 'kiddo'.

Reaching out, he grabs one of your plushie from the end of the bed and presses it into your hands. "Here," he murmurs, his voice filled with affection.

As he guides himself towards your entry, his movements are measured and careful, affording you every opportunity to adjust.

You clutch the plushie tightly, heart pounding in your ears. You feel a pang of relief at his consideration, unexpected tears pricking your eyes. With a shuddering breath, you nod in agreement.

"All right," Tex murmurs, his voice steady yet laced with tenderness. He pushes forward slowly, the tip of him breaching your tight entrance. A wave of sensations washes over you, mingled with both pleasure and slight discomfort. Your entire focus centers on the feeling of intrusion, the unfamiliar invasion of this intimidating figure.

He remains still, allowing your body to accommodate him. Tex's breath hitches, waiting patiently for your signal.

"How does it feel, baby?" he croons softly into your ear, his voice riddled with concern and anticipation. "Can I move?"

Trembling, you nod slightly, too overwhelmed to speak clearly. Every fiber of your being is focused on handling this new experience, his girth stretching your tissues, filling you in ways unimaginable until now.

Tex nods, his forehead resting against the curve of your shoulder blade. With a deep breath, he begins to thrust - slow, deliberate strokes designed to acclimatize you to his presence. Each movement claiming you territory after territory.

As Tex thrusts into you, he whispers encouraging words, urging you to vocalize your feelings.

"Tell me how it feels, kiddo," he pants heavily, his voice hoarse. "Do you hurt?"

You gasp, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. You rock against him, struggling to find a comfortable position. The familiar plushie rubbing against you provides small consolation amidst the foreign invasion.

"I... it burns," you admit hesitantly. "But...it also feels good."

A satisfied rumble echoes from Tex's chest. His pace quickens, seizing the opportunity to please you despite your apprehensions. "Of course it hurts," he acknowledges, his voice becoming even sexier with raw intensity. "This is how you learn, honey. This is how you become mine."

His thrusts intensify, deeper now, each strike stoking the fire of passion that had begun to simmer between them. Despite the initial discomfort, warmth blossoms within your core, fueling your desire further.

In turn, you moan loudly, completely engulfed by the carnal exchange.

"Does it hurt?" Tex repeats, checking again even though his body tells him otherwise.

Your response is a fierce shake of your head. "No, it's... it's getting better, daddy," you gasp, your voice trembling. "I think I'm starting to like it."

His heart swells with pride. Releasing one hand, he trails his fingers up to your nipple, pinching gently. Your eyes fly open wide, your face clenched with pleasurable pain. "That's what I want to hear, sweetheart."

With renewed vigor, Tex drives into you, more forcefully than before. His dark eyes blaze with hunger, piercing your skin with each percussive thrust. Slowly, rhythmically, you succumb to the dance, matching his movements with growing enthusiasm.

The plush toy bounces along, an innocent witness to your wild union. Its synthetic fur rustling against your movements.

"Is it enough, daddy?" You question, your voice thick with need. "Can I touch myself?"

Tex smiles against your skin, pleased by your submission. "Of course, darling," he responds, his own breathing labored. "Make yourself feel good."

With trembling hands, you reach your hand down between your legs, your fingers slick with your shared arousal. You rub circles on your clitoris, making the ache more intense. Your hips buck in time with his thrusts.

The room spins around you, the world narrowing down to just this moment. Your fingertips press harder on your clitoris, matching Tex's increasing intensity. Surrendering to his dominance and your own lust, you meet each surge of his hips eagerly.

As he nears his climax, Tex cradles you tightly, holding you close as if afraid you might slip away. The tempo increases, driven by pure instinct and desire.

Finally, he groans loudly, his semen flooding into you. Your inner walls pulse around him, milking him dry of his seed. Even the plushie beneath you vibrates faintly from the force of your orgasm.

When it's over, Tex collapses onto your back, panting heavily. He holds the stuffed toy against your cheek, murmuring apologies in a voice thick with satisfaction.

"Sorry, kiddo," he says softly. "Maybe next time we'll use something else."

You giggle into the embrace, exhausted yet content. Your breathing slows down gradually, your heartbeat synchronizing with his.

Still, the plushie rests between you both, evidence of your shared adventure. A testament to a night neither of you will soon forget.

You turn towards him, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes sparkle with unshed tears of joy, mirrored by the shimmer in his own.

"I don't mind, Daddy," you confess shyly, tracing the outline of his jawline. "It hurt, but it felt good too."

His smile softens, his fingers delving into your tousled hair. "That's my brave girl," he coos proudly. "You took everything I gave, just like a good girl."

Slowly, you unwind from each other, limbs dragging reluctantly apart. He helps you clean up, tenderly wiping away residual fluids. Your gazes lock once more, this time-sharing unspoken promises of future nights ahead.

"Come here," Tex signals, opening his arms.

Without hesitation, you crawl up, snuggling against his firm chest. He wraps you both in a warm blanket, your hearts beating harmoniously.

Sleep takes you both gently, wrapped protectively in his arms.

#tex johnson #tex johnson x you #tex johnson x reader #tex johnson imagine #swedish dicks #keanu reeves #keanu reeves gif #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanuedit #keanuverse #keanu characters #smut #daddy’s babygirl #daddy's good girl #daddy k!nk #keanu #keanu reeves imagine

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heraldofcrow · 22 days

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Remember that one Tumblr thread where one person writes a huge rant about how much they hate Olaf the Snowman that gets progressively more insane and as if wasn't cursed enough someone responded with "I'd have less problem with this post if Olaf wasn't queer-coded"? Imagine this exchange but it's Ciaran writing ungodly long hateful rant about Smough an Gwyndolin's only reaction is "I'd have less problem with this post if Smough wasn't queer etc" idk

Ciaran: God I fucking hate Smough the Executioner so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every room he's in, every painting, every hallway, every execution ceremony, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid tiny face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit armor design is endearing. His stupid fucking hammer? Who the hell uses a hammer for executions. His dumb flaily fucking disproportionate arms? His shitty, tiny bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking FAKE ARMOR BREASTS that no knight has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GWYN'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a marble-carved statue Smough or a Smough painting or a shitty goddamn stained-glass portrait, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Smough the fuckshit executioner fucker, I like eating people’s bones". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like the Covetous Demon summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking double-faced armor makes your whole shitty head look like a bulging skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking muffled perv laugh and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass jealous brown-nosing cannibal personality. Any time he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over an Estus bar in a H*llowmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking executioner in a stupid fucking different part of the castle, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Chaos itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the roadway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing armor design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the Smough dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class Lordranian drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no curse or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking hammer. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a king’s executioner is evidence of all the failures of godkind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Lord’s Blade gone rogue with the belief that Gwyn has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Seath himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a burlap travel sack floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fake ass executioner.

Ornstein: holy shit you’re not wrong

Gwyndolin: I'd feel better about this whole rant if Smough weren't possibly queer. It might be largely the voice – the laugh, the inflection especially – but he's got massive "Ornstein’s gay sidekick" vibes. And if you're actively critiquing that? Sure, great, go all out. Hate whom you will. Say whatever you want about how "gay" is equated with "Ornstein’s silly sidekick used for hammer comedy, with no serious bearing on anything, literally human and treated by Serious God Co-workers as... well,a sidekick, peripheral to your life and safe to ignore.

But if you're not engaging critically with that aspect of Smough and are just overwhelmed with hatred whenever you see or hear or think about the possibly queer executioner and his mannerisms make you feel violent, that is a little bit. Uncomfortable. At best.

Ciaran: what on Gwyn’s green earth are you talking about

Artorias: See sometimes I wonder why I still haven’t left to battle the Abyss yet, and then conversations like this come along. Amazing.

Gough:

—

Original Post

#DRSTFYAGHU #YOU BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELF #I WILL TAKE ANY CHANCE TO MAKE DS BLORBO HELLPOSTS LOLL #smough the executioner #lord’s blade ciaran #knight artorias #dragonslayer ornstein #hawkeye gough #dark sun gwyndolin #dark souls #silly post #asks #mutuals

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alfiely-art · 4 months

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God I fucking hate Makoto Kagutsuchi so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid baby face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking pants? Who the hell makes a homunculus with purple pants. His dumb flaily fucking twink arms? His shitty, baby bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking VACANT FOREHEAD that no homunculus has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Makoto or a Makoto gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Makoto the fuckshit masked man, I like warm baths". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Izuru Kamukura summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking pink tongue and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking sympathetic villain character in a stupid fucking video game, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the masked dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking mask. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional twink

#copypasta #shitposting #yomi hellsmile #makoto kagutsuchi #if you want the original post ill tell you just. be prepared.#rain code #master detective archives: rain code #raincode #mdarc #meme #shitpost #copypaste #raincode spoilers #mdarc spoilers #long post

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propertyofwhitney67 · 3 months

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bnuuy whitney... does he not realize that he invokes the feeling of cuteness aggression? I'm pretty sure we'd end up squishing his face, give lots of headpats, rubs our cheek against his face, even squeeze his little bnuuy tail bc he's just so damn cute!

angy bnuuy whitney? extra cute --- Whitney's Dominance frfr

it's all fun and games til he snaps and drags you to his home and reminds you that he isn't just "some cute bunny". worth it tho!

HE DOES

I need to pick him up and just squeeze. I wanna chew on him. He gets all the pets and scratches. Rubbing your face against his and booping his nose. He loves it but hates it when you do it in public.

But he draws the line at squeezing his tail. Normally he would fuck you then and there but no, not this time. He's going to breed you, and he needs somewhere safe and private to do that his nest.

#asks #bunny whitney #bunny transformation #dol #dol whitney #whitney the bully #degrees of lewdity #madison’s headcanons

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celticcatgirl2 · 2 months

Text

God I fucking hate Vegeta so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully smug, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid scrunkly face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking hairline? Who the hell makes a "bad boy" boy friend of the main girl with a hairline like that. His dumb short ass stumpy legs? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking POINTY HAIR STANDING UP IN ONE DIRECTION that no Saiyan has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Vegeta or an Vegeta gif or a shitty goddamn anime clip, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Vegeta the fuckshit monkey fucker, I am the prince of all Saiyans ". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like the grumpy troll from trolls world tour summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking creased forehead and your stupid, empty souless eyes and your over-the-top douchey ass arrogant asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking Shonen anime, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the Prince of all shitfucks is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking scouter. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional alien

#shut up alex #personal #dragon ball #shit post #shitpost #dragon ball z #dragon ball shitpost #dragon ball z shitpost #pro yamcha #yamcha positivity #yamcha #dragon ball shit post #dragon ball z shit post #anti vegeta #anti vegebul #vegebul critical #this is based on that one post about Olaf that’s a meme lol

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sh4tt3rg1rl · 4 months

Note

God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Tow Mater summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's movie, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

i agree with every word

#ik its a copypasta btw #xeyasks

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icefireanimates · 1 month

Note

what.

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libraryofbabel-postlocator · 25 days

Note

find this:

God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's movie, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

It's over 3200 characters so it's split up but the first half is on page 194 of volume 24 on shelf 5 of wall 4 of hexagon (below cut) (second part is also below the cut)

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

the second part is on page 227 of volume 17 on shelf 4 of wall 2 of hexagon 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

#post located #requests

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dragon-ascent · 1 year

Text

┊┊┊✧ ⁺fluff navigation.

watching you dance

showing zhongli your daily ritual

geeking out - genius invokation tcg

zhongli is hard to cuddle

adventuring withdrawal

permission

mistletoe

crystalfly catching with zhongli

reader resonates with other elements

conspiracist

mora for your thoughts?

linguistic divide

rex lapis paraphernalia

rex lapis sleeping with you

the confession

the sweetest thing in the world

dragon zhongli cuddling

more dragon zhongli silliness

a dragon's teeth

the prank

the novel

getting ready

moonlight companion

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ here, take a breather before you peruse further. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

zhongli getting sick

questioning zhongli's vision placement

giving zhongli affection

zhongli plays animal crossing

morax taking you shopping

wishing for zhongli

morax getting cuteness-aggression

waking up from a nightmare

refusing liyue citizenship

simping for zhongli

zhongli is a vegetable. a fruit?

zhongli as your secret santa

he's hunting you down..?

rex lapis can flirt like crazy

blacksmith zhongli

zhongli & the strength hammer game

xianyun gains understanding

zhongli learns to pose

erosion paranoia

REX LAPIS GOING INCOGNITO:

silliness

more silliness

#sini navi

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bluegekk0 · 3 months

Note

Theoretically, if another wyrm was to exist and do the same thing FPK did and shrink their form down to a mortal level, would they potentially look very different? Such as having more legs in a more tauric fashion or other such variations?

Certainly, FPK's form was influenced by the things he noticed about the mortals, and his own personality. He didn't want to be imposing, he wanted to be approachable. Big eyes, a less off-putting looking face, a bipedal body stance similar to what he saw in many of the bugs. He ended up looking quite a lot like a young wyrm, and even more so like the ancient wyrm ancestors (ones with shorter, stubbier bodies, more pronounced limbs and mouth parts that weren't as adapted to the wyrm lifestyle).

A different wyrm would have different experiences and goals. Since wyrms were generally aggressive and territorial, I could imagine that wyrm creating a much more intimidating form - one that is much larger and stronger. I'm not sure about the limbs, wyrms have six of them so unless the wyrm had a specific need for more, I don't see the reason why it would have a larger number of them. Perhaps it would keep its more serpentine appearance, snakes naturally invoke fear in other beings so I could absolutely see the wyrm sticking to that kind of appearance.

And if its goal was to be intimidating, perhaps it wouldn't put much effort into changing how its face looks. Wyrm mouths are quite unsettling, with the additional mouth parts and the powerful jaws - FPK toned if down significantly, modifying the mouth parts into a crown of horns in a similar shape, and opting for more soft tissue around his mouth; he definitely looks much friendlier, even if his bite is still very powerful. So another wyrm may keep that mouth structure, meaning that its face could look just like it did in its original form.

So yeah, I really doubt a different wyrm's reduced form would look anything like FPK's. Perhaps it would simply just reduce its size, keeping the off-putting, serpentine form. If its goal was to be in a position of power through force and intimidation, it would prioritize traits that would make it easier, just like how FPK made his reduced form more fitting for his peaceful plans of uniting the mortals. It wouldn't end up looking as cute as he does, that's for sure.

Also, since the form change uses magic to create the reduced body, it's very dependent on its user and their subconscious. Like I said, FPK has always been an odd one among the wyrms, he didn't have their aggression or the extremely territorial nature, by their standards he was pathetic and weak. So it makes sense that his reduced form reflected that personality, even in places he didn't intend it to. And the same would be true for a different wyrm using the same spell, if it was aggressive, then the reduced form would keep its dangerous appearance.

#ask stuff #feral pk au #fpk #wyrms

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minnowtank · 4 months

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God I fucking hate Sidon the Zora so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every cutscene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid shark face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking leg fin skirt? Who the hell makes a fish guy with leg fins like that. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard hammerhead-head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking PINK “NOSE” that no anthropomorphic fish has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Sidon or a Sidon gif or a shitty goddamn TikTok edit, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Sidon the fuckshit fish fucker, I love my empty no-homo void of a wife". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Bruce from Finding Nemo summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking fishtail hair makes your whole shitty head look like an anvil with a tumour. I hate your dumb fucking nonexistent pink nose and your stupid, half-hidden eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's video game, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is altogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of sexy character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the shark dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless fuckable video game side character fandom wank distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking tail head. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional fish.

#copypasta #🐟#totk #botw #loz #LMAO sorry for tagging #totk salt #totk critical

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hel-the-growl · 1 year

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Cultural Annotations on New Gods: Yang Jian -Part 3-

Part 1｜Part 2

I counted five periods of Yang Jian’s life that were depicted within the scroll.

1 - his childhood.

2 - teenager cleaving Peach Mountain. His hair is in a half updo, opposed to his full updo as an adult. The totem on his pauldrons is most likely Yazi (睚眦) - the second son of the Dragon King, who has the body of a dragon and head of a jackal. As a creature that likes to fight and is aggressive, Yazi’s image is often used to adorn armor and weapons, normally found on cross-guards on swords. The Yazi here is a cute pup, fitting for baby Jian.

3 - As a general in the war against Shang. His armor is decked with a red cape and he wields his signature trident. On his helmet are a pair of pheasant tail feathers called Lingzi (翎子) - which is indicative of the wearer as a warrior figure. The length of the feathers is also an indicator of the warrior's rank. This event was probably during the Battle of Muye, the decisive battle between Shang and Zhou. These flashbacks, like with Nezha Reborn, are the traditional depictions of the characters and are emphasized by the different art style.

4 - the disaster of the three realms twelve years ago. In Journey to the West, he was described as wearing “boots that were lined with cloth of gold; dragons coiled round his socks; His jade belt was decorated with the eight jewels”. He seems to have gained a new chest plate and notice how Yazi has also grown over the years from a cute pup to a ferocious beast with large fangs.

5 - bounty hunter. A tie-dyed bandanna covers his third eye - tie-dye was popular during the Eastern Jin and Southern and Northern Dynasties, where the extraction method of indigo dyes was recorded in the agricultural text Qimin Yaoshu (齐民要术).

His clothing is also described in chapter 40 of IOTG - “This Daoist wore a cloud crown with a fan, a robe the color of water with a silk sash around his waist, and hemp shoes on his feet.” This attire was typical of Disciples of Chan Daoism.

Wrist guards wrap around his index finger while his bounty hunter’s tally hangs from his belt. Despite falling into poverty, he still maintains an air of aristocracy with his white robes showing subtle intricate cloud details.

Blink and you’ll miss - during the battle at Mount Hua, he ripped his pants at the crotch lol.

Not that I think that the placement of Go pieces have any real significance, but I recreated the board for fun. Despite some minor inconsistencies (some black pieces disappeared and reappeared between shots, and the spot where Yang Jian hovered his piece is an illegal move), the game was mostly accurate. Btw, black is winning.

Yang Jian had a noble upbringing and has retained his discipline over the years - his left hand is clenched while his right palm lies flat on his lap.

What the hell is a Fenix? In the movie, the Xuan Bird was translated as Fenix, however there is no direct english equivalent for this mythological bird. “Xuan” means black or mysterious, so some sources describe it as a black bird, while others call it a swallow. The Book of Songs dedicated a line to it: The Book of Songs dedicated a line to it: "The Xuan Bird of destiny descends to give birth to Shang."

Fa Tian Xiang Di (法天象地) translated as “Heaven and Earth I rise to Thee” is the law of heaven and earth that is commonly mentioned in ancient texts. In Journey to the West, invoking Fa Tian Xiang Di grants the user the power to rise as high as the heavens and as vast as the earth. Only Erlang and Sun Wukong have this ability.

The inscription on Yuding’s giant sword reads “福生无量”, a Daoist mantra. They are written in small seal script, an archaic form of Chinese calligraphy, and a variant form of seal script that became the standard during the Qin Dynasty. The characters are separated by the horizontal lines of the eight trigram figures.

The moment Yang Jian knew exactly what would happen when Chenxiang ran toward his mother, yet was powerless to stop him. This scene BROKE me.

In the post credits scene, Yunxiang (Nezha) asks Wukong “you couldn’t beat him?”, a nod to their battle at the beginning of Journey to the West where Erlang was able to subdue Wukong after 300 rounds of fighting.

In the teaser for the sequel, Yang Jian is seen overlooking East Sea City/Donghai (the same city Nezha: Reborn was set), commenting “so many years have past again”. What he meant was, about 1500 years since Chenxiang cleaved Mount Hua. “So many years” is a gross understatement.

FAQs

What is Yang Jian’s origin story?

Yang Jian is a disciple of Chan Daoism, the third generation disciple of Yuanshi Tianzun, known as the Primeval Lord of Heaven, one of the highest deities of Daoism. The Jade Emperor really is his uncle. According to some legends, his mother Yaoji was imprisoned under Peach Mountain for falling in love with a mortal, breaking the laws of heaven. Yang Jian cleaved the mountain in order to save her.

If he’s heaven's prince, how did he fall so low? And where is his uncle the Jade Emperor?

Yang Jian doesn’t exactly have a great relationship with his uncle. It was the Jade Emperor who imprisoned his own sister under Peach Mountain, and Yang Jian wrecked havoc in heaven over this incident (not unlike what Sun Wukong did a few hundred years later). So obv he doesn’t associate with the other gods in the heavenly court, choosing instead to live elsewhere along with his six sworn brothers of Plum Mountain.

As for the whereabouts of the Jade Emperor, this is something the movie has not hinted. However in Nezha Reborn, Ao Guang mentioned it’s chaos up there [in heaven] right now.

If Yang Jian lost his powers, how was he able to phase through the jail’s barrier and overpower all of his opponents?

Most of the powers he lost pertain to the powers of his Eye of Heaven, which had the ability to differentiate truth from lies and see through deceptions and disguises and be used as an offensive weapon to fire continuous, highly destructive blasts of light energy and/or divine fire. He also lost the ability to manifest his primordial spirit, as well as the ability to fly. He does however retain his skills in the martial arts, primarily his “Nine Turns Mystical Arts” (九轉玄功), which grants him vast, physical durability of undefined limits and nigh-invulnerability to conventional weapons and various magic spells. His 72 transformations should be a part of this skill so whether he retained it or not remains to be seen.

It would be awesome to see him be able to transform though, it would suck if he were stuck bounty-hunting for the next 1500 years.

So how powerful is Yang Jian exactly?

In Journey to the West, he was unrivalled and the most ruthless among all of the gods - even the Monkey King could not defeat him. Another time, he single-handedly killed a beast that Wukong and Pigsy were struggling to fight. At the beginning of the movie, we got to see him finish off the ogre before it even had time to react. When outnumbered by Boss Hai and his goons, none of them could even lay a finger on him. Yang Jian is so powerful that even with his powers nerfed, the toughest opponents seem like small fries to him. During the battle at Mount Hua, his primordial spirit was so unbelievably massive that its body couldn’t even fit in the frame. The combined efforts of four gods could not hold him down and just one swipe of his axe was able to destroy Master Yuding and three heavenly kings. Yang Jian is no joke.

How old is Yang Jian?

We know that Yang Jian was born after Jiang Ziya, a real life figure who was born in 1128 BC. Jiang Ziya was peers with his master Yuding, who already had a head of gray hair when he took Yang Jian in as a child. Going by this logic, we can estimate that Yang Jian’s age was about 20-30 when he participated in the battle against Shang, making his birth year between 1075 and 1066 BC. His age when he cleaved Peach Mountain is a broad estimate, as he looked much older than Chenxiang when he cleaved Lotus Peak, so it might not be that long before the events of IOTG. Yang Jian would’ve been about 1512 years old when Chenxiang was born, 1525 at the start of the movie, and 3093 years old today.

What is Yang Jian’s relation to Nezha?

They were allies. After the final battle in IOTG, a few of heaven’s warriors including Yang Jian and Nezha came to court to inform that they did not desire positions and wealth and asked to be liberated from service.

How does this tie in with Nezha Reborn?

I read a tragic leaked original ending for Yang Jian where they weren't able to free the fenixes and he was the one that becomes trapped under Lotus Peak. It took another 1000 years before Nezha freed him... talk about tragic life. By now, it is pretty much given that Yang Jian ending up in Donghai over a millenia later has something to do with the new Order of the Gods. It was repeated in Nezha that Ao Guang wants to establish a new order to improve his ranking on the list, and some theories say that the the fenixes being freed from Mount Hua heralded the end of the old Order. Sun Wukong also alluded that the list had been re-ordered more than once.

Part 1｜Part 2｜Part 4

#erlang shen #二郎神 #new gods #new gods: yang jian #yang jian #新神榜 #杨戬 #新神榜：杨戬 #xin shen bang #jttw #investiture of the gods #lotus lantern

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