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kentopedia · 6 months

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♰ sent to destroy — dazai osamu

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 5 - fallen angel!dazai

he promises he's not the devil, but he steals your soul with just a kiss.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, takes place in 1920s for fun ig, actress!reader, alcohol, one mention of suicidal ideation and prostitution by reader, blasphemy, sacrilege, pls don't read this if ur religious & will get offended LMAO, angel fucking (& he has wings), bondage (thru powers), unprotected sex, cunnilingus, corruption kink, possessive sex, softish dazai, mm idk what else — 6.1k

note: i didn't edit this as thoroughly as i normally do so plss ignore any mistakes and i'll love you forever

the speakeasy fills with a thin veil of smoke, coating the room with an intoxicating mix of alcohol and nicotine. it’s a lewd place, full of degenerates and failed actresses like yourself, a crowd of people who don’t belong, but try their best to find a way to keep living.

it’s a place where women pick up their clients, leading them to the hotel around the corner for a night they certainly won’t be paid enough for. it’s where people drown their miseries in alcohol and hope they won’t wake up in the morning.

it is, regrettably, the only place you can afford.

you sit alone at one of the tables, hands shaky from nerves as you smoke another cigarette, contributing just as much to the cloud that suffocates the small room.

hoards of people make their way downtown for a sip of alcohol, the drink that has so ridiculously been banned, but you are no exception, no angel amongst the sinful devils.

someone plays a saxophone at the front of the bar, spinning into a graceful melody of jazz that sings out to you, lulls you into an embrace that warms your core. it soothes the anxiety that has lingered with you throughout the day, the reminder that your life is tailspinning.

you’d failed at landing yet another role, and the acting career you’d packed your bags and moved out for was plummeting. who would accept you now, now that your hopes and dreams had been for naught, now that you’d created a shameful woman of yourself and your family?

the answer was clear; but you were too stubborn too accept it, too desperate to believe that you could be up in the glimmering lights, the brightest silver star the world had ever seen.

you lean back in your chair, stamping out the cigarette with a sigh as you stand to collect another drink. there’s not much left in your pockets, but you’ve made it work before, and you’ll keep making it work now, scrounging up coins for the relief that came with forgetting.

the only consolation is the line of women that stand alongside you at the bar, as dejected and miserable as yourself. all of you have been labeled the failures of your families, the ones that bet on a shot in the dark. none of you expected that the road would be easy, certainly not with the way the industry is hasty to pick up only the most beautiful faces… but your ambitions had led you to believe that you, of all people, had had a chance.

you know your beauty is endless, a sight to be admired, but even that had not been enough to secure your spot in the limelight.

you thank the bartender as he hands you a drink, and slump back to your table, waiting for the effects of the alcohol to kick in. yet, when you stand at the edge of the table, peer at the chair you’d once been seated in, there is already a man there.

he gazes at you with a crooked smile, eyes amused as he regards your beaten-down state.

you’ve seen him before—made every attempt not to see him again. you know what they say about him. he’s a wizard, he’s the devil, he’s a god that steals the body of a mortal, waiting to destroy the earth. all bad things, certainly, and with the way your life’s been going, you’d be a fool to get mixed up with someone like him.

still…you know of the things he’s done for people. that miracles have happened for those brave enough to ask for them.

perhaps, you’re in need of a miracle.

the dark-haired man leans forward, eyebrows raised as you gawk at him from the other side of the table. “no need to look so frightened,” he says, gesturing towards the other chair. “sit.”

“i don’t want any company,” you say, straightening, pulling your drink closer to your chest. “i came here to be alone.”

his eyes flash, predatory, as if seeing down through the depths of your soul, to the very desire that lingers within. all of your dreams, your ambitions, and your loneliness are displayed to him, a flashing banner that alerts him easily of everything that’s ever been wrong with you.

“is that so?” he asks, leaning forward, his voice deepening amongst the chaos of the speakeasy. “then, why have you been staring at me all evening?”

you can’t help the flush that rushes to your cheek, the heat that covers your entire body. with the crowd of men and women alike that are constantly at his arm, you’d hardly thought he’d notice you.

and though you know what they say about him, he is undeniably beautiful; you’re drawn to him. there is a dark and heavenly beauty about him, something that you fear is too angelic to be of this world. his eyes glimmer almost like diamonds in the candlelit room, skin so flawless that it is nearly luminescent.

it’s no wonder, really, that you haven’t been able to peel your eyes off of him.

you circle around his question, instead, and set your drink down on the table, lured in either by a false sense of safety, or the confidence of his grin. “i know what you are,” you say, swallowing back the fear that devils often prey on.

he smiles, indulging you, a lifelong game he has surely played. “and what is that, my dear?”

the mocking tone sends a cold wave down your spine, even though the sweet name seems to warm you. “i don’t believe i should say it out loud.” you’re not sure what kind of consequence that will bring you. perhaps you do not need to make a deal with him for your soul to be damned, straight to the fiery pits; maybe this conversation is enough, and already, you are on the long list of sinners that will be sent to burn.

“because you believe i am the devil? a demon sent to prey upon you and your soul, drag you down to hell once the contract you’ve made is over?”

you say nothing, but your silence speaks loudly.

he sighs, leans back in the chair and looks at you from under thick lashes. “i have no interest in the dealings of those fifty, lesser beings. i find that i can bargain for more enjoyable ventures.” two dark eyes trace over you, swallow you whole as he grazes your curves with his irises, the shape of your breasts under the tightness of your dress, the style shorter to match the current fashions. “so, i think we both may have something the other is interested in. please,” he gestures once more to the seat in front of him, addressing you by your first name—one you never even had to tell him. “sit.”

nervous, you take the chair, wondering why you aren’t running away, screaming at everyone that there is a monster in your midst, a being that hunts the weak to lure them away from their misery. no wonder he has made himself a frequent customer at this place—there are people drowning in sorrows. one deal with him, and they will wake up in the morning, drowning in riches instead.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, letting your hands fall to your sides.

“so eager to get to the best part of my bargain, silly girl. have some patience.” he takes a sip of his own drink, pinning you with his gaze, even above the rim. you squirm under the intensity, but you, even now, can’t look away. “i know you’re struggling to find work. you’ve been here for years, and made pennies to live off of.” he reaches across the table, spins a lock of hair around his finger as he sighs dramatically. “such a shame, really. they must fear the power of your perfection if they refuse to let you shine brighter than the rest of the dull creatures that they call starlets.”

your heart drops, stutters within the delicate bones of your skeleton before starting again, as you remember that this is how the devil would act, luring you in with sweetly poisoned words full of deceit. “they are talented—”

“they are nothing,” he snarls, banging his fist on the table so loudly that you jump, hands shaking against the beaded skirt of your dress. “you may claim to believe in your own talents, your appearance, but it is all a lie, a facade that you maintain to protect yourself. you are the one holding yourself back, and unless you let me help you, you’ll get nowhere.”

you feel tears burn. “you mean to lure me away from the path of god—”

his eyes narrow. “i mean to free the human race from the chains that religion has bound on them. there is nothing for you in the afterlife but an existence of slavery. one to a malicious devil who only wishes to torment, or one to a god who doesn’t love you.”

it confuses you, the way he speaks of these beings as if he is not on the side of heaven or hell. as if there could be another option. it seems surreal, a secret that you should not have been told; since the day you were born, you have learned of the path of righteousness, the will of god.

that is the only way you can obtain a life of peace… yet, there is a creature before you, claiming to offer you a third path, one that doesn’t have you bowing down for a god that won’t answer your prayers.

it may be foolish, the work of the devil, but you are willing to listen. you are already lured in by this graceful creature with a charming smile and a quick tongue, and you don’t know if it will take much more for you to succumb to him completely.

already, you have lost your way—you would do anything to escape your unhappiness.

“what is it you’re after, then?” you ask, your voice softer, weaker than you anticipated.

he laughs, and lets his head tilt sideways, studies you before answering. “my father has cast me out of heaven; i plan to build my own religion of followers, tearing them away from that idiot of a being they call their god. because i am much stronger, much wiser, and the only way that they can find peace after their death is by trusting that i will give it to them.”

you swallow, twining your fingers together, and think. “you’re… an angel?”

he waves his hand. “a fallen one.”

there are things about the world that you do not understand, but you know that god has not once help you when you were drowning without a savior. he did not guide a helping a hand when you contemplated dragging a knife across your wrists, and yet, here is something, someone wanting to save you from just that. how is it that god can be more benevolent than those he casts out, when you have seen nothing but the opposite?

“you want me to join you, then?” you ask, drawing your eyebrows together. “if i join you, you’ll give me what i desire?”

“well… that is usually the bargain i offer. however,” he hums, eyes flashing as they scour your body. he looks at you hungrily, like he has never seen a being like yourself. “it has been a while since i’ve seen a human as beautiful as you.”

you swallow, blinking at him with wide eyes as you grow hot all over. this would not be the first time you’ve sold your body for fame, but never has it been with a man as stunning as the angel before you. “you mean… if i fuck you, you’ll give me whatever i want?”

he sniffs, repulsed by your suggestion. “always so lewd, you mortals.”

your eyebrows knit together. “but you said—”

“i don’t want you for one night. i want you forever. i want you to swear your body over to me for the rest of your life, let me use it as i wish, bear my children.” he traces your features, grazes a thumb over your jaw, your lip. his eyes are hard, and you swallow, wondering why your stomach flips. “you are meant to be mine.” he smiles, and though you can see the mischief within it, for some reason, there is also softness there as he crosses his arms over the counter. “but if you aren’t interested, then the deal is off the table. i have no need for someone who doesn’t want me in return.”

you blink back at him, observing the seriousness of his expression, the softness lurking within the pools of his deep brown eyes. perhaps he is a vengeful angel… but he is offering you a life that is much more promising than the one you have now. would it really be so bad to give yourself to him, to spend the rest of your life in his arms, when he promises to give you everything you’ve ever wished for?

“i—” you hesitate, unsure how to even begin to answer the question, when you didn’t quite understand what it was that he needed from you.

“i’ll give you some time to think about it. after all, it is a decision that will affect the rest of your life.” he stands to his feet, and it is then that you notice there are some eyes on you, the women he typically has hanging off of him watching your interaction with bated breath. “when you have an answer, just call for me. i’ll be there.”

“wait,” you say, turning in your chair to face him. “i don’t even know your name.”

“you can call me osamu.” he smiles and winks at you, tucking his jacket closer as he begins to walk away. “we’ll be in touch."

three weeks pass before you see him again.

you’d decided quickly what you would say to him, and after two weeks worth of auditions that led to nothing, drinking without a friend in the world, alone to rot in your bedroom, you’d made up your mind.

osamu’s proposal, now, after everything you’d suffered, seemed too good to be true. how long had you wished for a companion, for money, for a steady job—and now, these were all things he promised to provide you, if only you’d stand by his side.

you’d called to him at the start of the week, said a prayer to any angel named osamu that was out there—but no one came.

night after night, you said the same prayer, wondering, if perhaps, you’d been made a fool of. that everything he had said was a lie, and you, truly, were doomed to live an unhappy life. maybe, he was mocking you for your misfortunes, for your weak heart.

though, on the twenty-first day after your discussion, you awaken to a figure standing in the corner of your room, watching you with hawklike eyes, the shadow of a wingspan shaped out behind him.

you gasp, nearly letting out a scream as you scramble to a seated position in your bed, bringing the sheets up to your chest. the man is nothing more than a silhouette, so dark in the moonlight, but you know, without seeing his face, that he is the one you’ve been searching for.

“osamu,” you say, trying to quell the fear that has made a home in your chest. you gawk at him as he uncrosses his arms, sauntering over like he owns the place, like he’s been here before, knows the shape of your body, even under the sheets you hide within. “you heard my prayers.”

“i apologize for not coming faster,” he smiles in the darkness, teeth glimmering under beams of starlight. his face becomes visible then, and it steals your breath away—he is more stunning than you remember, skin nearly glowing, golden. “you were beginning to sound desperate.” osamu watches as your breathing evens out, your eyes flicking over his features. “is that still the case?”

he is a sight to behold sitting before you, the very essence of power seeping off of him in waves. a creature crafted from the hands of god, shaped to be the very thing that would protect the weaker creations.

osamu’s skin, his hair, every inch of him is without flaws, while you are but a sinful human girl who succumbs to each of her urges.

“i want—” you stop, realizing that you’re not sure what you want. to be an actress, yes, a famous starlet that is cherished by the masses. but, when you look at osamu, the soft, plump shape of his lips, the lean limbs that hide under his tailored coat, you wonder if fame, security, comfort—perhaps, those aren’t the only things you desire from this exchange. “i accept—”

“you sound uncertain,” he interrupts, eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. “you called me here, begged me to come steal you away, and now, you change your mind?”

“no!” you say, scrambling to grab his wrist as he starts to stand from the bed, his eyes flashing as you reach for him on all fours. “i’m not changing my mind. i want to be famous, i want to be yours.” you swallow, choking out the word as it turns your cheeks warm, the heat making its way up from your toes.

it hit you harder that you anticipated, the taste of belonging to another. you aren’t sure if its because you’ve craved the connection for so long that it’s twisting your insides, turning you into something desperate, or if, already, you feel an invisible string tying you and this stranger together.

“but?” osamu asks, still seeming like he’s about to flee, his eyes hard, blinking back at you. there is something about you that he wants, but he won’t take it, not unless you crave him just as much. it muddles your mind, confuses you—he could have anyone, could take anything. yet—

“but why do you want me?” you ask, releasing him to curl your fingers around the blanket. “i don’t understand.”

osamu balks, then laughs, his eyes crinkling as he regards you with some sort of gentleness. “perhaps i have always loved humans a little too much, much more than i should, at least.” he curls a piece of your hair around his finger, hums to himself. “innocent creatures that my father cursed with misery, blaming their own sinfulness against them.” osamu licks his lips, hungry as dark eyes cover your face. “but it’s not entirely your fault that you must bear the torment of generations. just as it is not my fault that i was born with a lust for something much more delicate than the creatures of heaven.”

he strokes your cheek, fingers grazing you like you are nothing more than a piece of glass, that you might shatter under the force of his power. perhaps you would—with too much, he might break you, turn you into a pile of ash with a snap of his finger.

“but there are millions of us to choose from,” you say, sweating under the blanket as your heart pounds in your chest. the breadth of his power becomes more obvious with every passing second, and yet, you crave a taste of it. “what makes me so special?”

he wraps a large palm around your jaw, thumb pulling at your lower lip. the tip of it dips into your mouth as you watch him with wide eyes, frozen, but not from fear. “i was meant to be your guardian angel, to be the guide that leads you away from the devil until your dying breath.” he moves closer, dipping his head towards your lips, brown irises never leaving your own. “and yet, the moment i laid eyes on you, i had already broken the first rule.”

you stumble over your syllables, whispering them breathlessly. “and what’s that?”

osamu smiles, muttering the words against your mouth, his voice ghosting over your skin. “angels are wired to protect those that we are assigned to,” he says, swiping his tongue against your lip, just barely kissing you, the sounds low and breathy. “we’re not supposed to want to fuck them.” a finger drags slowly, sensuously up your arm, and you can’t move, can’t do anything but watch as he pushes you, sinks you slowly into the bed. “i have never wanted anything as badly as i want you.”

you breath, in and out, slow, as the heat settles in your stomach, a burning pool of need churning there. it’s been so long—so long—since anyone has touched you in a way that is kind, has wanted to please you, instead of steal from you. “all that, just for me?” you ask cheekily, though you’re still not sure that he is telling the truth.

maybe he is the devil, but you no longer care. his voice is so sweet with praise and affirmation, bleeding into the softness of your heart.

he shrugs. “perhaps i was always meant to fall.” your head hits the pillow. you aren’t sure when he got you pinned on the bed. osamu looms over you with wide, burning eyes, licking his lips with an ache he doesn’t bother to hide.

“osamu,” you shudder, grabbing his bicep to steady yourself. it is too much, suddenly, all at once. you are filled with need for him, clawing at his skin as he commands complete control over you with nothing but his words. “i—”

your sentence is stolen away by a kiss, one that burns from your mouth all the way down to your toes. it twists something within you, turns you into a monstrous being that you had not realized you were, longing so recklessly to be touched.

his hands roam over your body, touch featherlight as he removes your dress, drags it slowly off your body, eyes grazing over every inch of your skin like he wants to devour your whole.

he makes a low sound in the back of his throat, fingers lightly dipping down your chest, between the swell of your breast to your ribcage. “how cruel of our father to keep us from such divine creatures,” he says, leaning down to kiss up your stomach, lick the skin around your breasts. “perhaps we are the ones that are truly being punished.”

you writhe under him, hands curling in his hair as his own dips between your thighs. grabbing his scalp hard, you yank him back up to your lips, and your eyes meet, both dark and dangerous as you brush your nose against his own. “you are punishing me right now.”

“is that so?” he laughs, eyes flashing with humor. “such a greedy, impatient little thing.” osamu slips out of his coat, his shirt, revealing the tent that has already grown in his slacks. they are the next to go, and his golden skin is revealed, the perfection of every line and angle of his body heavenly and refined. he leans down to whisper in your ear, breath ghosting the shell of it. “act like such a princess, but i know you want to be fucked until you can’t form a single thought, don’t you?” he says, and the coolness of his voice has you squeezing his shoulders, gasping out his name.

your skin burns, your chest burns, an ache gathering and settling deep in your stomach. your cunt throbs as you look at the angel before you, and he kisses down your neck, bites a hard bruise into your collarbone.

you whimper, wondering why you ever questioned going with him, when he could make you feel this good from nothing more than his hands on your skin.

“such pretty fucking tits.” he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, teasing the bud as you cry out loudly in the silent room. far too loudly for the thin walls, the cheap apartment. yet, you wonder if you care that your neighbors can hear the noises that come with your pleasure.

“that’s it,” he purrs, kissing down your stomach before his lips reach your hipbone, smiling into the sensitive skin there. “so quiet before… thought i was doing something wrong.”

“n-no,” you say, chest rising quickly as you watch him hover above your soaked cunt with anticipation. “feels good.”

osamu smiles, spreads your legs farther, so your dripping, aching hole is on display, embarrassingly, every inch of you vulnerable to him. “look at you,” he says, eyes hazy as he holds you tight, digs his fingers in your skin. “so fucking perfect. bet you taste as good as you look.”

there isn’t a moment for you to say a word—his head is already between your thighs, kissing your clit before sweeping his tongue through your folds, gathering up the wetness. a moan leaves his lips, and the vibration sends a wave of need through you as you squeeze his hair, force him back down on your cunt, nose dragging against your clit. “osamu, please.”

“ah, ah, ah,” he stops, licking his lips that are moist from your juices as his head lifts from between your thighs. a dark smile stretches across his features, calculating and cruel. “where are your manners, sweetheart? i don’t want you to cum too quickly.”

you’re not sure what he means until you feel your hands pinned to the bed by an invisible force, the power of the angelic creature before you, finally obvious. you can’t move, can’t even writhe against him, even as you try to thrust your hips forward, gain any sort of relief from the position.

he laughs at you, so pitiful at your desperation to be touched. “much better,” he says, and returns to lap at your cunt, tongue already stretching you as his fingers graze your thigh.

“s-samu,” you say, feeling the heavy pressure build down in your stomach. “want,” your cheeks grow hot, and you’re tingling with a need to touch him, but you can’t move. his pace is too steady, too slow. you’ve never wanted to scream more. “want your fingers. please, please.”

“please? such a good girl.” osamu grins against your pussy. the sound of his tongue slurping at your arousal is loud in the darkened space, and you clench around him, burning with need and shame. “you taste so good, too. better than any of the fucking shit in heaven. fuck.” he slips a finger in then, working at your clenching hole as his tongue curls around your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bud.

your words leave you in a cry, every muscle in your body aching. “please, i want to move. let me touch you, i want to, i—”

“i’m not letting you go that easy,” osamu says, and he pulls his mouth away, his face glistening, soaked. his fingers curl into you and you squeeze your eyes tight as he reaches deeper, to the second knuckle. “you’re so fucking worked up. bet you could cum at the sound of my voice alone.”

“i wanna, please, i’m so close—"

he laughs, looking up at you from under dark lashes. “already?” the sound is mocking, nothing about it soft as he kisses your inner thigh. he sees the desperation in your irises as you can do nothing but stare, unable to twitch a single muscle. “gonna cum all over my face?” he asks, and he’s back between your legs, tongue diving into you. “make a mess on me, sweetheart, wanna see that pretty face of yours when you cum.”

you don’t think you’ve every felt like this before, basked in the moonlight as the angelic man soaks his face with your desire, smiling at the sight of you so sinful. your heart hammers in your chest as you remember what you’ve promised him—that you would be his forever and, perhaps, this is what forever entails.

breathy moans leave you, and with each thrust of his tongue, you’re left with less words on your lips, less thoughts in your mind. “feels so good, you’re so good, osamu,” you babble, over and over.

osamu reaches the deep spot inside of you, and you squeeze him, clenching as you come on his fingers, cry out in the space of black room, nothing but the stars to guide you. you’re not sure you’ve ever come this fast before, not without the help of your own hands, but osamu just continues to lap at your cunt, drinking the juices and making lewd noises of pleasure at the taste of you. “mm,” he hums, “so fucking perfect.”

he fists his cock, already hard as his tongue swirls inside of you, and you lose any train of thought, too focused on the way he’s making you feel.

osamu is hard, leaking before he shifts onto his knees, rubbing his cock between your folds, gathering slick at the tip. “want my cock, baby? such a pretty thing deserves it, don’t you think?”

you nod, muttering syllables you don’t even understand. osamu teases you, drags his cock against your hole as he kisses your lips.

“use your words, sweetheart,” he smiles. his soaked fingers leave patterns of your own slick on your stomach.

you groan, eyelashes wet. “want your cock, ‘samu, please, wanna be stuffed so full,” you babble, and you can’t do anything but lay there, even though you want to touch him, want so badly to shift your hips into him. “please, osamu, please,”

he makes a noise in the back of his throat, grinning as he plays with your nipple, lining himself against your dripping hole. “so fucking sweet for me, anyone would think you were the angel, wouldn’t they?” osamu asks, and then he sinks into you, slow, eyes careful as he searches for any pain in your features.

you blink up at him, making a soft noise as you writhe under your skin. “b-big,” you say, feeling him stretch your walls as he sinks further.

though his eyes are careful, he doesn’t bother to stop, each second dragging as he inches further into you. he laces his fingers with yours on the bed, grinning as dark hair falls into his eyes. “i think you can take it, can’t you? you’ve been sogood for me already.”

sucked into the coolness of his gaze, you don’t realize that he’s released you from whatever spell you’ve been trapped under, kept helpless on the bed. you gasp as he sinks into you completely, aching from a mix of discomfort and the deep need with you.

“too much,” you say, but he sinks further, deeper, and your walls clench around him, bringing a heavy groan out of both of you. “fuck, please, let me move, i—”

“i’m not stopping you,” he kisses you hard, sloppy as his saliva drags across your lips. there’s a possessiveness in the way he fucks you, dragging his mouth across your own, claiming you as his. “you take it so fucking well, angel, slipping right into this soaked pussy.”

his words take a moment to reach your disoriented mind, and when you try to move, you can, your hands flying to his shoulders to bring him closer. your whimpers are loud in the hollow room, and osamu loves the sound of you, drinking each little whisper in like a heavenly elixir.

“you’re so pretty,” he says, kissing across your forehead as you arch into him. “making you feel good, hm? so fucking innocent, and i’m ruining you.”

“mmm,” you force the sound out as osamu thrusts into you, hard against the mattress, his hips moving in a steady, fast rhythm. hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat, his brown eyes even darker in the midnight hour.

your fingers graze across his back, between his shoulder blades, and though your touch is featherlight, he freezes, stops immediately with a loud groan as he clamps his teeth down on your shoulder.

you breath in sync, your chests rising and falling together. “osamu?” you ask, staring up at him, his eyes pinched together tightly as he grits his teeth.

“sensitive,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. “fuck, i’ll cum on the spot if you touch me there.”

you blink, your haziness clearing as you let your hands fall to your sides. it takes you a moment to realize why he would curl away from your touch there, why he would—

“your wings?” you ask, and he drags his gaze back up to your’s, nodding, before dropping his head onto your collarbone. he exhales into your neck, resuming a slow, steady pace inside you. though, you place a hand on his chest, feel his erratic heartbeat. “can i see?”

“you don’t want to.”

you pinch your eyebrows together, but he shifts his hips, forces a cry out of you as you collapse back down against the mattress. “i do,” you argue, but he’s fucking you mercilessly, sensuous sounds echoing in the room as he attempts to distract you. “i want to.”

he’s about to deny your request, but you let out another soft please, batting your eyelashes so sweetly. your cheeks are flushed from the heat in the room, and, for some reason, he relents, bowing his head in some sort of remorse. slowly, his wings span out across the room.

you lose your breath for a moment as you stare at them, muddled from the feeling of him inside and the beautiful sight before you. the wings are thick, black and feathery, spanning the length of the room, casting a dark shadow over you. they’re strong and unwavering, with a sheen that could be seen only on a raven, the light turning the shades from a deep purple to green.

“oh,” you can’t mutter anything else as he drags his tip against the sensitive spot inside you. “oh, they’re so beautiful. fuck, osamu, i can’t—”

you can’t stop yourself from touching them, dragging a gentle touch against one of the feathers. osamu cries out, groans into your mouth as your walls clench around him, sweat dripping between you as your chest presses against his own.

“shit,” he says, forehead pressed to yours. “oh, i’m so close. gonna make me come, aren’t you, baby? squeezing me so fucking tight, touching me like that.”

his eyes are hazy, and, somehow, for some reason, he’s let you have control of the situation. he kisses your face, treats you with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of, his lips so warm against your skin.

the dark, heavy wings cage you in, falling over the two of you, and you run your fingers against them once more as you feel another orgasm creep upon you. your clit rubs against him, and your slick drips between the two of you, down your thighs as your breath catches in your throat.

for a moment, you revel in the feeling of him deep inside you, and you close your eyes, his feathered wings so soft under your palm, letting your pleasure overtake you.

though that is short-lived as osamu pinches your jaw.

“hey,” he says gruffly, “look at me. want to see those pretty eyes of yours when you cum.” and though his eyes are soft, delicate from the way you’re stroking his wings, he sounds so mean, so possessive. “gonna fuck all my cum inside you, cause you’re mine now.”

your fingers curl around the feathers, hard as you tug him down towards you. osamu moans deep into your mouth when you clench around him, your orgasm rolling over you again as you scream his name into the blackness of the room.

“such a good girl f’me, fuck, i—” he doesn’t finish his sentence, already filling your soaked pussy with his cum. it seeps deep inside of you, coating your walls white until he pulls out, lets his seed drip between the two of you.

osamu presses his fingers across your face, dragging the delicate touch around your jaw, your chin as you breath heavily, still awestruck by the creature before you. you’re exhausted, sleepy, eyes hazy as you regard him with stuttered breath.

but he doesn’t let you go, kissing you over and over again with flushed lips. “i know you can give me one more,” he says in a low voice, humming against your throat. “my perfect mortal girl. just one more, and i’ll give you whatever you want, got it, pretty?”

your body aches, sensitive and spent, but you don’t object when he slips another finger into, kissing you hard as he lets you touch his raven wingspan.

you’d always wanted to be an actress, anyways.

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

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operationslipperypuppet · 3 months

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to expand lightly on my theory post regarding some of what might be afoot this season (devised and parsed through in collaboration with @stone-stars)

the actions against cassandra and kristen are a revenge plot, orchestrated by a combination of sol, galicaea, and helio. they each have their own vendettas contributing to this. sol has beef with kristen due to the “wholeheartedly reject all offers” scene, where he does turn on her first. he also was incapacitated in freshman year because she let aguefort into his domain. i imagine a sun god isn’t super pleased that there were 4 months of endless night. he also might not like cassandra due to who she used to be. helio once chose kristen and continued to supply her with spells despite her rejection of him and his teachings. she refused to spend any time with him and literally punched him in the face. he’s got some baggage there, for sure. galicaea experienced the first time kristen and cassandra connected, her attempt at convincing kristen was disrupted by the goddess eventually known as cassandra. her followers were responsible for killing the initial version of cassandra. her followers are now facing a revival due to tracker’s pilgrimage (kristen’s ex) and she’s just petty enough to blame kristen for that. plus, her snooty self hated her wolfy side. this revival would arguably make the snootier elves double down on that hatred. as above, so below.

the goings on against fig and the establishment of her cool new horrible luck are probably coming from a devil. the pride armor vision showed that it had ties to that sort of thing. and devils are lawful. fig is not. her ascension into the seat of the bottomless pit was on a technicality and the people who presided over it immediately hated that it happened. she’s been busy (she’s a mortal teen attempting to save the world) and has neglected her hellish domain on a similar level to her father, who lost his job about it. the lawful operatives running hell would not take kindly to that. so they could (would) reach out to her in a moment of her weakness and hand off a curse, as punishment. because hell is also about punishment.

now, i’m sure you’re thinking: why are these in the same post? easy. because i think they’re connected.

the rage stones that were corrupting cassandra and the mages were similar to what happened to ragh’s mom, as zac figured out. lydia is in a medically prolonged state of rage to keep the devil in her chest at bay. (there are some discrepancies over whether it’s a devil or a demon. but i trust ragh to know those minor details over arthur “i forgot to tell lydia i was doing this” aguefort). if something kept back by a prolonged state of rage was given leave to attempt its influence on something (on the astral plane, no less, where rules are almost always different), perhaps its influence would be rage inducing. and, just as she was taken over by one of these stones, kalina, who knew about lydia’s status in sophomore year since she did try to kill lydia, called out “ragh barkrock!”, bringing up another clear and direct connection.

the nightmare king sided with demons during the blood wars. the devils trapped the nightmare king in the forest (this is why arianwen needed gorthalax and why fig’s promotion was vital to their success). the devils would probably want to fight back. the gods we’ve met would probably dislike the imbalance that comes from establishing a new god, especially one who is a riff on one they already destroyed (cassandra establishes that she is not the same goddess she was before her sister killed her. but there have to be similarities. and maybe galicaea doesn’t know that).

the first time we meet our beloved garthy o’brien, they talk about how devils (they say fiends but are explicitly talking about devils and not demons) and celestials and gods are not simply opposed. they’re part of a system that balances out all its parts. angels fall. devils could rise. they work together as part of a bigger system.

so. so. if two specific mortals and their merry band of idiot friends are in direct opposition to some of the most powerful and petty entities in the universe, would they not want to perhaps join forces to attempt to take them down? especially if it could come from freeing one (“important”) devil from decades of being trapped, restoring balance further?

bonus here is the idea that bill seacaster’s goal in hell is to “kill the devil himself”, and perhaps he’s getting too close for comfort and balance must be maintained somehow. and what better way to distract him than by threatening his son?

plus, we know cassandra’s “i thought you were dead” wasn’t directed at kalina or the nightmare king. but maybe, in her brief time back as a god, she noticed the absence of a particular devil. and thought they might have died, when they were actually just trapped.

all that being said, it’s a fun theory to me and maybe we’re completely wrong. but everything we thought about more made it make more sense, which is a wild experience.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fhjy

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cosmicjoke · 1 month

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Yeah, I have to correct you on the "inhumane treatment of Levi and his family". This obsession with absolving Levi of any fault and not have him face the consequences of his deliberate actions is funny to me. Levi was a kill for hire. Erwin knew he was going to kill him and get the papers to a corrupt politician. Levi, Furlan and Isabel, despite of their hardships and horrible livelihoods, were doing illegal activities. They were about to kill someone for citizenship. What was Erwin and scouts supposed to do? Let them go on their marry way with a slap on their wrist? That's totally unrealistic and to be frank, far better than what they were about to receive - jail time.

lol, okay. You do realize that Erwin was the one that SET UP that entire situation, don't you? Erwin was the one who literally came up with the plan to bait Lovof into hiring Levi in the first place, and he did it specifically so he could entrap him and have him removed as an obstacle of the Survey Corps. He USED Levi and his family to further his own agenda, so don't paint Erwin as if he was just some upstanding citizen and soldier doing his job in stopping the nefarious activities of a bunch of Underground hoodlums. Levi and his family never would have gotten the idea into their heads to go to the surface and steal any documents from Erwin, or to attempt to assassinate Erwin if Erwin himself hadn't literally created the scenario to have that happen. He was never in danger because he was in control from the start. He purposefully let the rumor spread that he and the scouts were going to go Underground to try and recruit Levi, because he knew Lovof would hear about it and that he would then take it as an opportunity to hire Levi to steal the documents and kill him, with the promise of citizenship up top. It was pure entrapment.

I'm not absolving Levi of his faults here, I'm simply stating a fact. Levi was willing to kill to help his family. And? I never said it was a good thing that Levi was planning on killing Erwin, but simply stated that Erwin treated Levi and his family inhumanely for daring to resist his demands. We also have to remember that Levi wanted nothing to do with the plan originally and only agreed to it because Furlan pushed him to. If it had been up to Levi, they never would have accepted Lovof's offer at all. Erwin deliberately and with full knowledge pulled three kids out of the Underground and forced them into a branch of military service which had an astronomically high mortality rate. How is that better than prison? Levi and his family never would have ended up in prison or caught by the authorities at all if not for Erwin's very own machinations. Again, Erwin literally created the circumstances of the entire scenario, all so he could rid the SC of a political opponent. He wasn't going after Levi to stop him from committing a crime, he was going after him because he wanted him for the SC and because he wanted to get rid of Lovof. But you want to frame it like it was just him doing his due diligence as an officer of the law, lol.

And when I talk about Erwin's inhumane treatment of Levi and his family, I'm sorry, but having Mike hold Levi's face down in a puddle of sewage for simply refusing to give his name, and then threatening Furlan's and Isabel's lives with swords to their necks if he continued to refuse is the definition of inhumane. And it wasn't just jail time that Erwin was threatening, he made a very specific point of mentioning how the MP's were likely to treat Furlan and Isabel much more harshly than he had, this after threatening their lives. What exactly do you think that implies? Levi and his family were forced to join the most dangerous branch of the military, by far, under duress and under threat of torture and death. That's inhumane.

So later with this framing you're employing, of Erwin just being an innocent bystander who was being kind and generous toward Levi and his family by offering them military service instead of jail time for their "illegal activities". Erwin was the architect of those illegal activities in the first place. He needed Levi to come after him in order to get rid of Lovof. All we saw Levi and his family do themselves, before then, was steal some food from some merchants, that itself a product of the disenfranchised state of their existence from those living on the surface.

#Levi Ackerman #Erwin Smith #Furlan Church #Isabel Magnolia #No Regrets #attack on titan #shingkei no kyojin

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beruxyz · 2 months

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| ᴡʜʏ ғᴀʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ?

ɢᴇɴsʜɪɴ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ x ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ's ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ɢɴ)

Characters = Jean, Lisa,

-ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs = "This is my first ever fic, So it may be trash.", Not-Proofread, Slight-Angst, Short.

𝙹𝙴𝙰𝙽 - 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

- Hardworking, Reliable Jean. Always one to never back down on her words but fail to back down when needed. She is as strong as she looks, She is the Acting Grand Master for a reason.

- Though, Even if she is strong, She has her own set of problems. And no, Not just the paperworks that seem to pile up each and everyday.. 𝐘𝐨𝐮.

- It's not that she hates you, No no. You're the creators child! An heir of their maker but.. She can't help but feel as though this is a dream, Being the lover of the heir of the entirety of Teyvat? That sounds like a fantasy.

- She feels as though you deserve better, Someone smarter, Stronger, more reliable than her. She can't help but think little about herself whenever you stand beside her, She loves you, oh so very dearly, But. Do you truly love her back?

__-____-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-___-_

"My dear..?" The muffled voice coming over from the closed, Locked door of Jean's office. She has sucluded herself inside, She didn't want you to see her in such a state. She didn't want you to see how weak she is.

A knock comes from the door, Twice, thrice. Sooner or later, Jean was already in front of the door. Contemplating whether to let you in or not, To let you see how vulnerable she was to thoughts that resembled those of the abyss.

"(Name)... I'm.. I'm sorry." Jean softly speaks out, Clutching her chest tightly as she held back her tears. "Jean, Open the door. Please, Let's talk." The muffled voice speaks out, The same level of softness with Jean's. The dandelion knight just obeyed without a thought, Opening the door slightly ajar to let you see her.

(Name) quickly comes inside upon seeing her current state, Closing the door behind themselves as they quickly cupped Jean's face.

"My dear? Has something happened? Please, Tell me." (Name) spoke gently, A worried look on their face as Jean just smiled slightly at the God's worry. "No, No. Im.. Im fine." Jean whispered, A small huff of tiredness escaping her. "Im just.. Wondering, 𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎?"

"Because, You're the only one that sees me as me, Not 'Creator's child'. Not 'Teyvat's Next Ruler'. Just me. I love you. I love you very much, I will never get tired of repeating it to you. I love you so much, Jean."

𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚊 - 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗

- "The flirty librarian of the Knights of Favonius". Everyone just sees her as that, Nothing else. No one realizes just how much depth and character her personality has. Mondstadt citizens love her, fear her or anything in between. But they barely even know her.

- Lisa, A name that strikes fear to those that have faced her wrath when they didn't bring back her books on time. A name that strikes others with amazement upon having the knowledge about her past with Sumeru, being the Alumna of the Akademiya.

- People that has a facade often crumbles to pieces upon having the thoughts of not being good enough, Lisa is no exception. Even she feels like she doesn't belong for you, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 for you.

- A thought that corrupts and takes over her mind, Even when it all started small. Even when she just laughed it off at first, It clawed her mind. The doubts, The judgement of herself slowly getting to her thoughts.

- But she would never tell you, She wouldn't want to burden you with mortal problems as that. She would rather eat herself inside out than making you worry for her.

__-_____--_-____-_-_-_--__-_-_-_-_-_-_

"Dear? You have been quiet for some time. Is anything wrong? You can always tell me." The God spoke with helpless worry, Holding onto a book that they were just about to put back on the shelf.

"Oh. Nothing is wrong love, Just thinking about the citizens that still haven't returned with their books." Lisa spoke with serene calmness, A facade she has mastered with your help, Unbeknownst to you.

She loved you, She loved you for being nice, caring.. Naive. She loved that you didn't question her too much, She knew your naivety would put you in danger, But it's nothing that she can't fix.

"Oh, Like Donna?" (Name) asked while facing the shelf, Putting the book back to where it belongs before walking over to Lisa on her table. "Yes, Love. Like Donna, But she'll come of course. Ive already shown her what I'd do if she doesn't return back for the 4th time." The mage spoke with a calm yet scary smile on her face. Maybe it was just the doubts returning back to her, eating her mind alive, But if Donna doesn't come back with the book tomorrow, Lisa might accidentally let her boiling hot exasperation on her.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨! 𝘐 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘩-𝘣𝘺𝘦

#genshin x reader #lisa minci #lisa minci x reader #genshin lisa #genshin women x reader #genshin women #jean gunnhildr #jean gunnhildr x reader #genshin jean #first fic #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin impact x male reader #sagau x reader #beruxyz's fics

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extremlynerdyfairy · 25 days

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Someone call me Dimension 20’s MatPat, cause I have some INSANE theories to share!!

‼️⚠️Spoilers for Fantasy High: Junior Year (Mostly Ep. 13 and back)⚠️‼️

❤️‍🔥🔮🌹Theory #1🌹🔮❤️‍🔥:

Cassandra is in the court of stars?!

When Adaine goes to the court of stars, I found something peculiar in Brennan’s description of the interior of the place. He mentions how in the center of the room, there’s a MASSIVE rose that is surrounded by shimmering, indigo-purple energy. Who in this entire franchise has been associated with those colors and Brennan ALWAYS described their magic/aura having that same vibe?

CASSANDRA!!!

WHAT IF the timeless rose in the court of stars is one of the few remaining items that has some of Cassandra’s essence?

But that’s not the end of it. The rose is described a huge rose, right? You could even say it’s GIANT sized. If my phrasing wasn’t obvious enough, I think the rose might’ve had a deeper meaning/connection for both Ankarna and Cassandra. I googled it, and it’s said that roses usually bloom around early spring and late autumn. This means that PEAK rose blooming season could possibly be summer. Ankarna’s domain.

So there’s a possibility (or better said a hunch) that a possible old gift amongst these two forgotten and corrupted deities is in Fallinel. But considering the fact that a monument about the wedding is in Fallinel, I wouldn’t be surprise if the flower in question is what remains of a bridal bouquet (roses are traditionally associated with love and are a popular bouquet options for weddings…👀). But we’ll see if anything will from this crazy observation of mine.

👹🔥👨‍👩‍👧Theory #2👨‍👩‍👧🔥👹:

Who’s Fig’s REAL daddy, really?

I know this might seem like a bit, but I think it’s one worth thinking about. Usually Tieflings are just descendants of one mortal being and an infernal being. To my knowledge (and I encourage any DND buffs to fact check me on this), Tieflings can pop-up in a family tree as long as ONE of the bio parents has infernal blood or ancestry in them.

Now, why does this have to do with Fig’s bloodline? Gilear even stated in sophomore year that him and Sandra Lynn weren’t having bedroom fun before fig came along. Well I’ll bring you this question as a rebuttal: If Gilear was always aware to some degree about Fig not being his, how did Sandra Lynn get away with that lie for MANY years?

My theory is that Sandra Lynn originally didn’t know WHO fathered Fig since (and I’m just spit balling here) she probably had adult fun with Gilear shortly after Gortholax (probably due to guilt and making sure Gilear didn’t catch on to the cheating) and basically decided to wing it and after Fig started growing her horns didn’t hesitate to consider Gortholax the father. BUT WHAT ABOUT GILEAR’S DEMONIC BLOODLINE?! We recent learned Gilear is a descendant of Backur and we know that the curse attached to the Feith family is past on to the eldest of the family to the oldest of their children.

What if Gilear IS Fig’s bio dad AND that Fig being a Tiefling was because of Gilear being a descendant of Backur?!

Tbh this is a theory I’m only 65% sold on, since I’m not sure my DND knowledge is correct or if Brennan’s world even operates under those same rules. But it’s fun to think about.

🐀🤓😈Theory #3😈🤓🐀:

Kipperlilly, the rat grinders, and Ankarna?!

I know that the season is leading up to a final confrontation between both of these adventuring parties, but here’s the fun question to ask:

WHY? Why the FUCK are these nerds SO determined to have the Bad Kids eat shit?

Very simple answer. Conquests. ✨ACADEMIC✨ Conquest. We know the rat grinders are basically exp farmers and (in many ways) are dark parallels to many of the Bad Kids own party members (Buddy and Kristen, Ruben and Fig, Oshin and Adaine, etc.). And we’ve seen how salty they are (Cunt-head Bitch face, especially) at how the Bad Kids (despite many of them not taking their academics seriously) are able to achieve things the Rat Grinders think THEY deserve. And who was recently revealed as a goddess of Conquest? Ankarna.

But HOW would the Rat Grinder’s know about Ankarna?! Well… remember Lucy?

Lucy’s death is very much hinted to be caused by the other members of her party (tho, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s revealed that it was someone else, most likely Kalina). But WHY did Lucy die?!

What if Lucy was trying to pull a similar stunt that Kristen pulled in sophomore year? After all we know Lucy wanted to switch gods and the name on the paper for that switch within the school was blank. Kinda like the god’s name wasn’t found or couldn’t be said…like Ankarna. I 1,000% believe that Lucy was trying to bring the uncorrupted version of Ankarna back (similar to how Kristen brought Cassandra back from her Nightmare King form). How she found out about Ankarna is a whole entire debate (maybe from her original goddess or through research, we’ll find out what more episodes released) but we are left with one MASSIVE question:

WHY DID THE RAT GRINDERS KILL LUCY?! What could they possibly gain from killing their friend?! Well…what if the rat grinders didn’t want Ankarna uncorrupted?

Afterall, Ankarna’s corrupted domain (that of conquest, rage, and dominating over others) fits better with Kipperlilly’s need to be the best at the school. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rat grinders’ end goal is to use Ankarna’s corrupted domain to help them (mostly Kipperlilly) win the elections.

After all, Cunt-head Bitch-Face did make it VERY clear from the beginning that her goal is to see the Bad Kids get what they deserve (which is expulsion) for their lack of academic integrity; and, for her party (the group that has been doing things by the book this entire time) to get what THEY deserve. Absolute power over the school.

Those are all my theories! PLEASE share your thoughts. And remember, it’s Just a theory… A DIMENSION 20 THEORY!!!

(Note: I went back and fleshed out a bit more theory #3 because I was writing it at 2am and forgot to add a few of the important details of that theory 😅)

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #theory #rat grinders #the bad kids #brennan lee mulligan #fabian seacaster #fig faeth #kristen applebees #adaine abernant #gilear faeth

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mollysunder · 7 months

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Where Does Viktor Fit in Zaun? What Kind of Message will the Herald Bring?

We all know Viktor's headed to Zaun next season, but I've genuinely been wondering what he'll actually do when he gets there. The obvious answer would be that based on previously canon lore Viktor will become the Machine Herald and preach the path toward Glorious Evolution through cybernetic augmentation. But when I look at the state of Arcane, I just can't see that happening. So much of Viktor's story so far has been entwined with his relationship with the arcane and his own mortality which only becomes more complicated as he feeds the hexcore his Shimmer enhanced blood.

While Viktor started out as an engineer, Viktor's work became more associated with a combination of Arcane study and biological experimentation. More often than not, Viktor’s future as the Machine Herald is teased with biological imagery.

When Viktor visits Singed, the equipment that frames him in the shot above is similar to his staff, but more importantly, Rio's silhouette resembles the shape of the Machine Herald's mask. The outline of Rio's body resembles the the 3-pronged shape of the Herald's mask as it appears on Sevika's tarot card. The mask on the card is actually different compared to all of Viktor's existing skins, the three spikes are designed in a way that resembles a crown.

The cave where young Viktor first meets Singed, is covered in holes that resembles thousands of pained howling faces, surrounding both Viktor and Singed. Is it to represent the suffering Singed and/or Viktor will create in the future? Could they represent creatures of the Void, calling out to break free? Maybe the faces represent the already existent suffering of Zaunites who choke and perish in caves similar to the one they stand in?

What's more interesting is that the entrance young Viktor reveals himself to Singed with has the image of ghastly hooded figure carved into it. At first I thought this was supposed to represent inhabitants of the Void. Later, I realized this figure more resembled Zaunites suffering from Shimmer addiction like Huck.

It all feels like the story has been steering Viktor toward Shimmer and the complications of the Void rather than using cybernetics avoid human vulnerability as he did in previous canon. And when you think about Zaun in the context of Arcane, Zaun doesn't need the Machine Herald to promote his augmentations. Cybernetics have already grown in use and popularity in Zaun. After the time skip there's a stark contrast between Vander and Silco's gangs, many members of the latter from Sevika to Ran use augments. It's so prevalent that even members on Piltover's Council know about it. Sure they don't follow the original philosophy of the Glorious Evolution, but Viktor himself doesn't have the foundations for what was originally introduced to League either.

If anything, the visual hints in Arcane lead me to believe that Viktor will become some kind of prophet to the Void. Think about it, so much of what Viktor has done has brought him closer to magic and he's only become further ensnared once Shimmer was involved. From the little that we see of the Shimmer corrupted hexcore, it's likely sentient and it's influence on Viktor will only progress further once he's been completely alienated from Piltovan society.

What does this mean for Zaun though? Well I think Viktor's presence will be a positive presence in the long term for Zaun. The brief moments we see real unobstructed reference to the Machine Herald, hhappens when the design of Viktor's various masks are integrated into the design of the water treatment facility he was implied to have made. The image of the Herald also appears as the the Magician tarot paired with the Death tarot (Jinx) to win Sevika's card game. I previously concluded that the card scene forshadowed that Viktor and Jinx would be the major factors that will win Zaun its independence. On top of that, no matter what universe you stick Viktor in, he fundamentally wants to help others. That drive hasn't stopped in Arcane, and won't stop next season.

Despite Shimmer's justifiably sketchy reputation, it earned it Silco's hope and Singed's interest on it's ability to both sustain life and change it. Outside of being a strength enhancer, Shimmer was shown to effect the rate and longetivity of plant growth in the background of season 1. I think Viktor will be the one to further explore this aspect of Shimmer's effects to make positive impacts in Zaun next season.

I have such confidence because one, Viktor’s research with hexcore and Sky's own note focus on the impact hextech has on biological matter. And two this one shot from Zaun's post-time skip music video.

In the shot above, we see two men with masks and staffs designed in a similar style to the original Machine Herald, stand guard for the building behind them. To the left of these masked men is a sign that reads, "The Herald's Palace". Lofty name aside, what could these men be protecting? If you look into the window behind the two patrons getting their shoes shined you'll notice the outline of broad leaf plants. The masked men are guarding a cultivair! In Zaun, cultivairs are essentially greenhouses only the wealthiest of Zaun can afford to maintain, they're the only sources of fresh air located within Zaun so they have to be well protected. Cultivairs also double as public parks for Zaunites when chembarons want good PR.

The sneakiest possible hint is the design on the wall where "The Herald's Palace" sign is framed, it foreshadows who could have backed Viktor for his rise in prominence in Zaun. It's Jinx. This will make sense, trust me.

First, the swirling patterns of the wall design resemble the smoke cloud tattoo patterns Jinx has around her body. The use of the neon lights in the shot make the swirls appear a similar blue to the real tattoos.

Second, this isn't the only time the artists of Arcane used Jinx's swirly tattoo pattern to refer to her influence. Another time that happened was in the Firelights' music video opening. In the montage, we see bullet casings engraved with cloudy swirls in front of Eve's mask, after Jinx killed her.

Jinx doesn't actually engrave her bullet shells, that's for rich people like the Kirammans. Those engravings are for the audience to know that Jinx was responsible for Eve's death, the early draft even shows the artists were thinking of invoking Jinx's impact by applying her more childish doodles on the shells.

Not only has Viktor and Jinx’s future partnership been foreshadowed more than once in the show, she's the only character outside of Singed I can see betting on Viktor. There's no real reason for Sevika to be interested in Viktor, because when Viktor's reputation is dragged through the mud, even other Zaunites will be wary of him. Sevika also already has a source for her augments in Chembaron Smeech's gang, the Scrap Hackers. What would Sevika want to do with a clearly unstable scientist that not only looks like he's been loyal to Piltover most of his life, but his own experiments killed a fellow Zaunite colleague? How would Viktor not come off any better than Jinx to her?

Jinx will likely be the more empathetic party to Viktor and the disaster he created for himself, she can relate to it. And in related media, like RiotxArcane, he's one of the few people that extends empathy towards her character. She'd be one of the few that probably wouldn't flinch at the line of logic he'll follow in the next season as he continues to double down on the hexcore and the Void. I can only guess, but based on how Viktor reacts in other alternate universes, he'll probably push to further integrate Shimmer into the physiology of its users. Viktor would see it as a means to embrace the necessary change needed to survive the harsh environment of Zaun and the world itself. Who better to pitch such an idea to than one of the more successful Shimmer mutants like Jinx, and probably the extremists who really like her.

Tldr: To understand how Viktor will find his niche in Zaun, we need to understand that Viktor isn't defined by robotics. Viktor's defined by his devotion to helping others no matter how unethical. It's a mixture of his genuine empathy and compassion to those in need, and in his characterization in Arcane, the fact that he sustains his self worth from his ability to create and innovate. So it doesn't matter what kind of world he's placed in, a gothic cowboy world, a psychic soldier battlefield, or a world that worships death he will embrace the most extreme elements of his world and turn it back against the obstacles that put the common people down. Even if his solution is off-putting.

Sidenote: I didn't know where to fit this, but the one concept art that had Viktor's Machine Herald silhouette only further convinced me that Viktor doesn't actually become the Machine Herald like in League.

Thanks to @MPiltovian on twitter for the sketch outline we can see in concept that Viktor's transformation is so stark he looks to be at least a full 2 ft taller. And I know that Arcane's a scifi-fantasy setting, but that's just not how prosthetics work. There's no way that even his full body could support the weight of all that metal, plus a giant laser claw on his back. Viktor probably completely fortified his body using Shimmer and the hexcore to strengthen it and is wearing an exoskeleton on the outside. Honestly, how does anyone single-handedly even turn themself into a full-conversion cyborg anyway?

#arcane #viktor arcane #arcane meta #arcane season 2 speculation #isn't it wild to think that viktor could go around giving people complicated prosthetics #he didn't study medicine or biomedical engineering #does silco give his employees health insurances for those augments?#sevika arcane #jinx arcane #singed arcane #honestly if jayce gets to be pulled into a councilman position why wouldn't viktor get pulled into power in Zaun #zaun #machine herald

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yandere-toons · 1 year

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I loovvee percy jackson!! Hows about some platonic headcanons for luke castellan? The original sympathetic edgy sadboy.

Luke Castellan (Platonic Headcanons)

WARNING: yandere, death, violence, abduction, psychological manipulation, toxic mindset.

EVERY TIME his friend comes to him with complaints about another camper harassing or bullying them, Luke listens and takes note of the name so he can intimidate the camper later. Even if the complaints are not a call to action, that is how Luke chooses to interpret them.

His way of exacting revenge is to make the camper his next sparring partner. Many of the half-bloods gather to watch his swordplay, and Luke disguises his agenda as a lesson in how to parry and disarm one's opponent.

The camper has no hope of winning when faced with a vengeful and driven Luke. He rips the weapon out of their hands before they have a proper chance to defend themselves and shoulder-charges them into the dirt.

Depending on the severity of the transgression and how upset it made his friend, Luke will do this again and again until the camper is bruised and exhausted.

If anyone has the mind to question his apparent hostility, it is dismissed as Luke adding a touch of realism to the training session to better prepare everyone for how unforgiving the monsters will be.

Should his friend be there to witness his triumph, Luke teases them about enjoying the sight of the camper getting bested. Regardless of whether this is true or not, Luke believes he has done his friend a service and takes pride in the fact that the camper is most likely afraid of him now.

It does not take long for Kronos to catch wind of the relationship, what with Luke dreaming of his friend most nights. Kronos seizes the opportunity to lead Luke further astray and perverts these dreams into nightmares about his friend dying.

Their death is always the result of negligence by the gods, such as his friend falling under attack by monsters and making a prayer for help that goes unanswered. The lighter nightmares are of his friend rotting alone in the Hermes cabin, abandoned and forever unclaimed by their godly parent.

Luke descends into paranoia and hatred for whoever his friend's godly parent is, devoting what little time he spends away from his friend to stewing over imagined threats to their life. He views his mission as bringing them salvation and delivering them from the uncaring grasp of the gods.

Anytime his friend is presented with a quest or the offer to join one, Luke takes on a bitter attitude and states that the gods deserve no favours from them. He has no qualms about sticking mortals with Backbiter if they come across any humans who treat his friend badly.

Coming back from a quest dead or with injuries is certain to get someone else killed. Luke blames the other members of the quest for, in his eyes, failing to protect his friend. He holds a grudge against these people that spans years, and he makes sure they catch the tip of Backbiter one day.

Once he ditches Camp Half-Blood, Luke hounds his friend to hop aboard the ship Princess Andromeda and embrace Kronos' revolution. He promises the coming of a paradise where they no longer need to waste their life waiting for the right god to acknowledge them.

He refuses to take no for an answer, convincing himself that rejection only means someone has corrupted their perception of him and lied to them about his goal. Luke sends monsters to correct this wrong by abducting his friend and attacking anyone who goes to intervene.

Percy sees this order in a dream and warns Luke's friend not to leave the camp for any reason. The poisoning of Thalia's pine tree makes this a bit of a moot point, as monsters begin to slip through the cracks in the barrier and wage various kidnapping attempts.

Kronos grows wise about how this conflict is distracting Luke, so he starts to assault Luke's friend with nightmares about betrayal and their gruesome death. Kronos aims to turn them against the gods and Camp Half-Blood so that they will come running to his side, allowing Luke to focus on the task at hand.

Luke is careful to instruct the monsters on Kronos' payroll that his friend must not be harmed. If they are brought before him battered and bloodied, Luke erupts in rage and tries his hardest to have the monster responsible executed.

He forges a story in which they have proven to be a useful war asset to shield them from Kronos, and Kronos, noticing how much Luke's sanity rides on their life, dangles the threat of a fate worse than death for them if Luke fails to uphold the cause.

If his friend does convert to Kronos' side or at least pretends to convert, Luke considers them his new family and taunts anyone who would persuade them otherwise. Lying to Luke is a tricky gamble because Kronos will suspect the deception and whisper it in Luke's ear until Luke wonders if Kronos is onto something.

When doubt creeps in and Luke finds his loyalty to Kronos wavering, he seeks out his friend and begs them to flee with him. He speaks of leaving both the gods and Kronos behind in favour of being on the lam with no one but each other.

Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!

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cienie-isengardu · 5 months

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I feel like if Bi-Han didn't love Kuai or was abusive it would've been stated. It'd also bring into question why Kuai would care to avenge him if he was treating him like trash. It's not Bi-Han is the only person he cares for, Tomas is literally right there. Like Kuai was jumping through hoops for this man and unless Bi-Han was some master manipulator which doesn't fit Bi-Han's personality since Bi-Han makes it really apparent when he doesn't like someone.

Seriously this is the guy who told Quan Chi his plan was insane to his face and Bi-Han's social skills are kind of lacking. You cannot convince me this guy was some puppet master. I'm not saying Bi-Han is dumb but he's not this master manipulator intent of using his brother's emotions.

Also why would he even bother? Seriously Bi-Han's main priority is survival, why would he care to manipulate his brother if he didn't care for him given it's not like he benefits from Kuai being around.

Kuai Liang was introduced as the younger brother of Bi-Han in Mortal Kombat II (November 1993) and their brotherhood has been a vital part of lore for literally three decades now. After such a long time, I too think if alive Bi-Han was ever meant to be seen as the abusive or uncaring brother, the source would outright say so already. Instead Mortal Kombat gives us a conflict between younger Sub-Zero and Noob Saibot, the resurrected yet corrupted by the dark magic version of Bi-Han. A corruption acknowledged by Kuai Liang himself, like he did in Mortal Kombat Armaggeddon:

And even within that conflict between alive Kuai Liang and Wraith Bi-Han, Noob Saibot was not always written as the vile creature out there to kill or hurt his younger brother for fun, which can be especially seen in an alternative timeline[1].

Did Kuai Liang idolize his brother? Most likely yes, as Bi-Han was his closest family he had and with unnaturally advanced ice skills, the older brother rose through ranks to the point Grandmaster acknowledged him as the most cunning Lin Kuei assassins. However it is not like Kuai Liang was completely blind to human Bi-Han’s flaws - the degree may vary from one source to another, like between one of the oldest Mortal Kombat comics (“he was stubborn in many ways”) and Mortal Kombat Legends: Snow Blind (“The dreams. For a long time, I thought the worst thing that I could become was my brother. I was wrong.”). The closest example I can think of in which Kuai Liang outright calling original Sub-Zero to be evil comes from Mortal Kombat: Defenders of the Realm TV animated series (1996) and even then it was said in context of serving the forces of Darkness, not if Bi-Han was abusive brother[2].

Yet within strictly game timelines, Kuai Liang may be angry at Noob Saibot, he may be disappointed by his brother’s (post mortem) choices but as far as I managed to check, he had never accused Noob Saibot of not loving him, or being uncaring or abusive when the man was alive. In contrast, Mortal Kombat 1 (2023) actually gives us Smoke’s accusation that MK1!Bi-Han was always cold to him and though this is not necessarily equal to being abusive, the game hints at an uneasy relationship between those two brothers. I don’t think original and alternative Kuai Liang has ever accused his Bi-Han of anything similar. Quite opposite actually, in MK11 Kuai Liang stated he thought (alive) Bi-Han shared the same values as him - while Noob Saibot noted that Kuai Liang always mimicked him. What may itself imply Kuai Liang's principles were inspired by elder brother.

The source material uses the word “corrupted” specifically to describe Noob Saibot, as to highlight that Noob is not the Bi-Han’s original self. Kuai Liang uses that word, and of all people he is the one that knew the best what kind of man Bi-Han was once. Otherwise I believe younger Sub-Zero would already remark that Bi-Han as an evil Wraith is no different from his human self and so far Kuai Liang did not say anything like that.

This is especially seen in Mortal Kombat 11 (2019) and Kuai Liang’s anger is understandable as Noob Saibot supported Kronika and Cyber Sektor that attacked and killed his clan members. However, as Sub-Zero’s ending shows, when he decided to study each second of Bi-Han’s life to understand what made his older brother the way he was, he tried to understand why Bi-Han’s embraced “Sektor’s corruption” and why "reveled in the vile power given to him by Quan Chi"

not why Bi-Han did not love him, or abused, or manipulated. Those have never been a matter of doubt, only the process of adapting into the darker side of Lin Kuei and life as Wraith . So once again, corruption by power - or even being a merciless assassin, does not necessarily mean Bi-Han was a bad brother. I know that for the majority of fandom one equals the other, however Kuai Liang has never accused Bi-Han of being on purpose cruel or uncaring toward him. If anything, the problem lies in the fact that Bi-Han embraced all the bad things that happened to him. Again, like the ending says, Kuai Liang needed to reshape Bi-Han's life (events) not Bi-Han’s whole character to get back the beloved brother he missed. So the problem did not lie in Bi-Han’s character itself, but in things that happened to him.

And frankly, there is a lot to say about the fact that Bi-Han rarely speaks about honor in contrast to Kuai Liang, and how in general he is more aware of Lin Kuei’s dark deeds than his brother ever was. The original Sub-Zero seems to be much more disillusioned with how the world works and thus better at adapting to its cruelty. He even warned Kuai Liang in the past to never trust anyone, especially a family, and it is like the opposite act to manipulation. At the same time, Kuai Liang too was accused of having a “frozen heart”.

I think that ultimately it all comes down to what fans want - a tragedy about two brothers that by twist of cruel fate are destined to be enemies or story about a survivor of abuse/pathological system coming in terms of his trauma and realizing his brother was not a good man and building for himself a new, healthier life. Each story has a great potential on its own, however I personally feel that Mortal Kombat has never truly gone with the second scenario. Kuai Liang being blind to his brother and clan’s darkness may make sense when he does not have an outside relationship that made him rethink his own brotherhood with Bi-Han. Yet Kuai Liang, even a much older, experienced man still recognizes Noob as the corrupted version of Bi-Han, not the same man just with a different outfit. Despite all the bad blood between him and the Wraith, he has never truly abbadon hope to save his brother’s soul, so at least to me, it doesn’t sound like a man freeing himself from abuse and trauma by rejecting an evil family.

And also, if we agree that Kuai Liang was either so indoctrinated by the clan or lacked any other support to recognize the abuse when it happened to him, then the same benefit of doubt should be given to Bi-Han, as he grew up in the same pathological environment. You can’t excuse one survivor of abuse and then condemn the other. The brothers dealt with their trauma in different ways but this is not good victim vs bad victim contest.

As for Bi-Han manipulating anyone... he was introduced in Mythologies: Sub-Zero as the most cunning Lin Kuei assassin and Noob Saibot was too hinted to be smart and biding his time while serving Shinnok, Quan Chi and Shao Kahn. So I believe he could be pretty cunning when needed. But yes, the man doesn't feel like a person bothering with manipulation for the fun of it. Sub-Zero, like all cryomancers in general(?), was a pretty straightforward man. Like I mentioned before, from source material it seems to me he rather kept warning Kuai Liang about not trusting anyone (and he did that as Noob Saibot too in MK11's intro dialogues) than playing on his younger brother’s loyalty. But to be honest, we don't have enough sources to say for sure how growing up in Lin Kuei looked for both.

SIDENOTES:

[1] Sadly, MK11 did not fully utilize the conflict between Redemption (Kuai Liang) vs. Recognition (Noob Saibot!Bi-Han) alluded by the official BIOs and intro dialogues. Frankly, the mentioned game barely did anything with their brotherhood in main story mode, however the intro dialogues paint an interesting take on brothers feelings toward each other, especially Noob’s one toward Kuai Liang, as they differ from original timeline Noob. Back then he was out there “free from compassion” [MK Deception]

and at least twice tried to murder his brother (attack on Lin Kuei/MK Armageddon and Noob-Smoke’s ending/MK Deception), while in the MK11’s intro dialogues for example, he does not side with Frost - who from story mode perspective was the logical ally, as she wanted to kill Kuai Liang. Instead Noob openly dislikes and disrespects her and even criticizes his brother for trusting her in the first place. Similar thing happens with Geras ordering Noob to bring Sub-Zero to Kronika and suddenly Noob goes with his standard “only death are my kin”

Geras: Bring your brother to Kronika. Noob Saibot: The dead are my clan now. Geras: Do you serve or do you not?

while he has no problem acknowledging his and Kuai Liang’s brotherhood. The intro dialogues in second timeline definitely played a different angle than Noob as Bi-Han completely stripped of his humanity. And again, sadly NRS did not dwell on it in the main story.

[2] Mortal Kombat: Defenders of the Realm actually referred to events from the Mortal Kombat film (1995), in which Liu Kang killed Sub-Zero thanks to Kitana’s advice to use an element “that brings life”. Even the scene of original Sub-Zero’s death was similar to the one from the movie, minus of course the violence/impaling itself. Yet the film outright stated that Scorpion and Sub-Zero were slaves under Shang Tsung’s power, so in that case, “Bi-Han” wouldn’t be on Mortal Kombat Tournament on his own free will for all we know. The full dialogue about MK:DotR!Kuai Liang’s reasons for joining the good guys side below:

Sub-Zero: It is true, I was once Lin Kuei and fought for the forces of darkness. But that was long ago…Back when my brother was still alive…It has been many years now since Liu Kang faced my brother in Mortal Kombat. [...] Sonya: So, why’d ya turn on your clan anyway? Jax: Girl, your parents ever teach you the word "tact?" Sub-Zero: After his death, I realized that my own brother was innately evil and without honor… I could no longer fight for what my clan believed in…That was when I decided to help you. Jax: Then why the disappearing act? Sub-Zero: In spite of what I knew, I was too filled with hate to go on. So I sought seclusion to try and find inner peace. Sonya: I guess what we’re all wondering is…can you ever really forgive Liu Kang for icing your brother? Sub-Zero: What Liu Kang did, he did to save Earth. He fought with honor and great purpose.

It was cartoon intended for children so it is make sense that brutality and complexity was reduced to acceptable norms, however A) “Kuai Liang” still didn’t call “Bi-Han” and evil/abusive brother and needed time to sort out his feelings, including hate (for Liu Kang) and and B) saying “Bi-Han” and in general Lin Kuei were evil was the easiest way to explain why he changed sides than saying anything else (this point is actually relevant to “Kuai Liang”’s feeling for Lin Kuei/Bi-Han seen in the second episode - he may consider them evil but he would fight Scorpion to avenge what he did to Lin Kuei and wondered if Liu Kang could beat “Bi-Han” without Kitana’s advice so his feelings definitely aren’t one dimensional. I think it is safe to assume he was still processing his emotions and relationship with Lin Kuei/"Bi-Han")

I guess this cartoon may be one of the reasons why people tend to consider Bi-Han to be an evil brother while painting Smoke as the only one Kuai Liang's brother that should matter. Still, a source is a source, so I’m bringing it to the table.

#mortal kombat #my replies #bi han #sub zero #kuai liang #bi han and kuai liang brotherhood #noob saibot #beside the mk defenders of the realm i don't think kuai liang went so far to openly call bi han an evil person? even the snow blind started #like that only to show us that kuai liang's trauma has nothing to do with bi han and only with his own pride that led to tragedy?#i truly think that after 30 years if bi han was meant to be abusive asshole the sources/Kuai Liang would say so already #noob saibot is corrupted version of bi han and kuai liang acknowledged that #yet there is no “oh yes this is my brother he died but overall he did not changed much when it comes to make my life miserable”#and i'm gonna trust kuai liang's words more than any fans headcanons lol

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mysteriousmissweems · 7 months

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And they were roommates with a little cat buddy. (I headcanon that for the Nevermore uniforms, students could choose between a neck tie, a bow tie, or no tie. Larissa chose the bow tie because she felt like it.)

#larissa x morticia #(face) corruptible mortal state #(aesthetics) ghoulish delights #(morticia) the lumberjack to my stately sequoia #tish and rissie best friends forever!#(larissa x morticia) and they were roommates

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yanderes-galore · 11 months

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Scenario where Raiden Ei trapped her darling in her Plane of Euthymia, so that her mortal darling would live eternally?

I am still stuck on her boss battle so... MIGHT AS WELL, RIGHT? I apologize if it isn't long enough, I did what I could for this ^^; Ngl, Idk how to write Ei for anything so I tried my best :)

Spoilers for Inazuma/Electro Archon backstory implied

Eternity

Yandere! Raiden Ei Scenario

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Kidnapping, Ei is a hypocrite, Fear of death, Fear of abandonment, Implied Ei is dealing with grief, Forced relationship.

Ei never understood why you cry and scream. She saved you, so why do you look so terrified? You would've been corrupted... you would've died if not for her.

Mortals are so vulnerable to change. They can die so easily and rot due to time. Time... is a threat to eternity... this is because it brings change. Ei herself has seen the damage time and change has caused to her and her loved ones.

Despite this, she finds you screaming at her to release you? Yelling that you don't want to be kept by her in a state of immortality. She finds your response rather selfish.

Don't you know that only she chooses who's brought here? This plane of existence is special. It's meant to keep you both young and healthy, free of corruption.

This way she can't lose you, either.

You should think you're lucky. Out of any mortal she chose you to keep with her. She can make you comfortable in this place while she continues her meditation. There's no need to complain.

Ei remembers when she first met you. You were a loyal mortal servant of hers, wishing no more than to work for Ei and Inazuma. It was after the vision hunt decree was announced... after her obsession over eternity started... that you became a big target for the Archon.

Ei was not expecting to grow so attached to a mortal. She had many mortals to take care of. Inazuma is her region, the people here are hers to protect, so why was she so focused on only one? Was it because you two talked so often? Was it your loyalty? At the time, it didn't matter what drew her to you...

Ei just knew that you were someone she didn't wish to lose.

She's lost so many already. Those losses are what drove her towards her hunt for eternity. Maybe deep down... you reminded her of those she lost?

You were not blind to the Archon's attention to you. You were often invited to Tenshukaku to eat sweets with the Archon. She often chatted with you, giving you smaller jobs than other servants. You did wonder why she liked you so much. Were you really a close friend of the Archon?

Maybe even Archons need a mortal to confide in? You were never able to find out why Ei looked at you with such adoration and care. You swore when she looked at you... she muttered a name under her breath that definitely wasn't yours.

You never knew that while you occupied yourself with work, Ei worried about you. The longer she grew closer to this mortal and cared for them... there was a nagging feeling deep within her.

She could lose you at any moment.

If she could lose great warriors like in the war, how easy would it be to lose a weak mortal like you? How long would it be before some accident happens and she loses you too? Change is a threat to eternity... and time brings change.

She knew you wouldn't understand her reasoning. Not without thorough teaching and explanations. Either way, you didn't share Ei's paranoia towards life and death.

Which is why when she drags you to the Plane of Euthymia... you panic.

The moment her meditation started, you bombarded her with questions. Ei kept a stoic face yet your questions did annoy her. Why do you fight your Archon's decision?

You ask her where you are. You ask her why you're here. You wonder and wonder what you've done to deserve this.

Ei encourages you to see this place as a good thing. It's a reflection of her mind, she can make it more to your liking if you like. Although, no matter what she said, you only stared at her with fear.

Ei tries to tell you it's just you and her. Time doesn't pass here, nothing gets in unless she allows it. You do not need to eat, drink, or sleep. You are safe here... safe from time, change, and any enemy to eternity.

You argue that you never wanted this, a reasoning that Ei finds strange. You liked being mortal? You were fine with dying someday and leaving her? She'd never allow it.

Ei thinks if she tells you her reasoning... you'll listen. She tells you she's done this because she cares. She knows mortals like you are fragile... now that you're here nothing can hurt you. She claims that she needs you here.

But even when she offers you paradise... you yearn for something else like it's hell.

You yearn to return to your old life of all things.

Ei ignores your comments, arguments, and screaming. Surely a smart mortal like you will realize reasoning with her is pointless, right? Her mind is set... you'll reside here with her.

There's no need to worry about the outside world. She has a puppet assisting with all of her Archon matters. Now the Archon can focus on something else...

Ei can focus on preserving eternity... she can finally focus on preserving you.

"This is the best I, as your Archon, can offer." Ei smiles softly towards you, momentarily breaking her stoic mask. "Many seek immortality. Many seek companionship. Now you have both... with me."

"Ei..." You say, tears in your eyes. Only you and Yae are able to speak the Archon's true name, a developing red flag you noticed long before this. "What makes you think this is right?"

"Why wouldn't it be? I'm keeping the one I care for safe. I've... lost many in my years. But you... I'll never lose anyone I care for ever again, not even you."

"This is what you mean by eternity?" You ask sadly.

"Isn't it beautiful? A place where we'll never be infected with corruption. It'll be just us." Ei says softly, reaching out to hold your head in her hands. Her touch is gentle, if not a bit tingly like electricity on your skin. "No one else could take care of you like I am now. You shall be free of stress, free of pain... free from change."

Ei preaches about corruption and purification. You only look at her like she's crazy. You find it ironic.

Ei claims you're both free from corruption here...

Yet it appears she's more corrupted than she thought.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere raiden ei #yandere raiden shogun

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 months

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Alexei navalny did not like tragedies. He preferred Hollywood films and fables in which heroes vanquish villains and good triumphs over evil. He had the looks and talent to be one of those heroes, but he was born in Russia and lived in dark times, spending his last days in a penal colony in the Arctic permafrost. A fan of “Star Wars”, he described his ordeal in lyrical terms. “Prison [exists] in one’s mind,” he wrote from his cell in 2021. “And if you think carefully, I am not in prison but on a space voyage…to a wonderful new world.” That voyage ended on February 16th.

Mr Navalny’s death was blamed by Russian prison authorities on a blood clot—though his doctor said he suffered from no condition which made that likely. Whatever ends up on his death certificate, he was killed by Vladimir Putin. Russia’s president locked him up; in his name Mr Navalny was subjected to a regime of forced labour and solitary confinement. Mr Navalny will be celebrated as a man of remarkable courage. His life will be remembered for what it says about Mr Putin, what it portends for Russia and what it demands of the world.

A man of formidable intelligence, Mr Navalny identified the two foundations on which Mr Putin has built his power: fear and greed. In Mr Putin’s world everyone can be bribed or threatened. Not only did Mr Navalny understand those impulses, he struck at them in devastating ways.

His insight was that corruption was not just a side hustle but the moral rot at the heart of Mr Putin’s state. His anti-corruption crusade formed a new genre of immaculately documented and thriller-like films that displayed the yachts, villas and planes of Russia’s rulers. These videos, posted on YouTube, culminated in an exposé of Mr Putin’s billion-dollar palace on the Black Sea coast that has been watched 130m times. Despite the palace’s iron gates, adorned with a two-headed imperial eagle, Mr Navalny portrayed its owner not as a tsar so much as a tasteless mafia boss.

Mr Navalny also understood fear and how to defeat it. Mr Putin’s first attempt to kill him was in 2020, when he was poisoned with the nerve agent Novichok smeared inside his underwear. By sheer good luck Mr Navalny survived, regained his strength in Germany and less than a year later flew back to Moscow to defy Mr Putin in a blast of publicity.

He returned in the full knowledge that he would probably be arrested. On the way back to confront the evil ruler who had tried to poison him he did not read Hamlet. He watched Rick and Morty, an American cartoon. By mocking Mr Putin, he diminished him. “I’ve mortally offended him by surviving,” he said from the dock during his trial in 2021. “He will enter history as a poisoner. We had Yaroslav the Wise and Alexander the Liberator. And now we will have Vladimir the Poisoner of Underpants.”

Mr Navalny was sentenced to 19 years in jail on extremism charges. He turned his sentence into an act of cheerful defiance. Every time he appeared in court hearings via video link from prison, his smile cut through the walls of his cell and beamed across Russia’s 11 time zones. On February 15th, on the eve of his death, he was in court again. Dressed in dark-grey prison uniform he laughed in the face of Mr Putin’s judges, suggesting they should put some money into his account as he was running short. In the end there was only one way Mr Putin could wipe the smile off his face.

In his essay “Live Not by Lies”, in 1974, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, a Nobel-prize-winning Soviet novelist, wrote that “when violence intrudes into peaceful life, its face glows with self-confidence, as if it were carrying a banner and shouting: ‘I am violence. Run away, make way for me—I will crush you’.” Mr Navalny understood, but instead of running he held his ground.

His great strength was to understand Mr Putin’s fear of other people’s courage. In one of his early communications from jail he wrote that: “it is not honest people who frighten the authorities…but those who are not afraid, or, to be more precise: those who may be afraid, but overcome their fear.”

That is why his death portends a deepening of repression inside Russia. Mr Navalny’s murder was not the first and it will not be the last. The next targets could be Ilya Yashin, a brave politician who followed Mr Navalny to prison, or Vladimir Kara-Murza, a historian, journalist and politician who has been sentenced to 25 years on treason charges for speaking against the war. The lawyers and activists who continue to defend these dissidents are also in danger. Since Mr Putin’s return to the presidency in 2012, the number of prisoners has increased 15 times. Even as the remnants of Stalin’s gulag fill with political prisoners, professional criminals are being recruited and released to fight in Ukraine.

Mr Navalny’s death also casts a shadow over ordinary Russians. In Moscow and across Russia, people flooded the streets at the news. Before the police started to arrest them, they covered memorials for previous victims of political repression in flowers. Yet that repression is intensifying. Since the start of the war in Ukraine, 1,305 men and women have been prosecuted for speaking out against it. A wave of repression is also swallowing up people who never before engaged in politics. The president will shoot into the crowds if he must.

For the West, Mr Navalny’s death contains a call to action. Mr Putin considers its leaders too weak and too decadent to resist him. And for many years Western politicians and businessmen did much to prove that fear and greed work in the West, too. When Mr Putin first bombed and shelled Chechnya in the early 2000s, Western politicians turned a blind eye and continued to do business with his cronies. When he murdered his opponents in Moscow and annexed Crimea in 2014, they slapped his wrist. Even after he had invaded Ukraine in 2022, they hesitated to provide enough weapons for Russia to be defeated. Every time the West stepped back, Mr Putin took a step forward. Every time Western politicians expressed their “grave concern”, he smirked.

The West needs to find the strength and courage that Mr Navalny showed. It should understand that Mr Navalny’s murder, the soaring number of political prisoners, the torture and beating of people across Russia, the assassination of Mr Putin’s opponents in Europe and the shelling of Ukrainian cities are all part of the same war. Without resolve, the West’s military and economic superiority will count for nothing.

Western governments should start by treating people like Mr Kara-Murza as prisoners of Mr Putin’s war who need to be exchanged with Russian prisoners in the West or prisoners of war in Ukraine. They should not stigmatise ordinary Russians living under a paranoid dictator and his goons, or put the onus on ordinary people to overthrow the dictator who is repressing them.

The best retort to Mr Putin is by arming Ukraine. Every time America’s Congress votes down aid, Russia takes comfort. The leaders assembled at the Munich Security Conference, who heard Mr Navalny’s wife, Yulia, speak of justice for her husband’s death, need to stiffen their resolve to see through the war. For their part Ukrainian politicians must see that standing up for Russian activists and prisoners is also a way of helping their own country—just as Mr Navalny called for peace, for rebuilding Ukraine and the prosecution of Russian war crimes. Liberating Ukraine would be the best way to liberate Russia, too.

The voyage ends

After he had been poisoned, Mr Navalny returned home because he believed that history was on his side and that Russia was freeing itself from the deadly grip of its own imperial past. “Putin is the last chord of the ussr,” he told The Economist a few months before he took that last fateful journey. “People in the Kremlin know there is a historic current that is moving against them.” Mr Putin invaded Ukraine to reverse that current. Now he has killed Mr Navalny.

Mr Navalny would not want Mr Putin’s message to prevail. “[If I get killed] the obvious thing is: don’t give up,” he once told American film-makers. “All it takes for evil to triumph is the inaction of good people. There’s no need for inaction.”

Mr Navalny’s death has seemed imminent for months. And yet there is something crushing about it. He was not alone in believing that good triumphs over evil, and that heroes vanquish villains. His courage was an inspiration. To see that moral order so brutally overturned is a terrible affront. ■

#heros #Navalny #alexei navalny #Putin #Putin Caucus in US House of Representatives #war in Ukraine

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seraphimaa · 1 month

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Haarlep character study/further Headcanons

Some more word vomit that nobody asked for about how I perceive Haarlep and what it would look to love him in the ways that you can.

Warnings: a bit nsfw, unhealthy relationships(?)

Available under the cut!

A wider look at his general character, to begin with …

- haarlep lives in the boudoir, starved of everything that gives him purpose, power and fulfilment in life. His existence may cater to base comforts, he does not live in danger because Raphael would not risk killing him in fear of what may replace him. This does not mean, however, that does not make it a happy existence. He is starved of sex and intimacy, the very thing that he was built to live for. His enjoyment of flirting, and charming, and experiencing the “chase” of those he lays with is all but stripped from him too, spending hundreds or thousands of years trapped alone with only himself for company. This means that Haarlep’s life inside the house of Hope is very like that of a caged animal in a circus. He performs tricks when told but when he’s not needed to entertain, he is left to pace in a tiny cage that is built to meet none of his needs. He has lost any power and purpose he once had, it slumbers inside of him while he sleepwalks through existence.

- It only gets worse when you consider what Haarlep is. As an incubus, he is the embodiment of hunger, much like a vampire, but he feeds the source with sex and intimacy instead of blood. He is always in a state of need, never fully satisfied or fulfilled and always manipulating and corrupting others in order to fill the endless void that screams for more, day and night. He will never know what it feels like to live without this consuming curse and the purpose of his existence is to simply feed it as much as possible. So while in the house of Hope, Haarlep is starving every. single. day. His nature would be screaming at him to feed and he would have nothing to do other than stay in that room becoming more and more feral and driven half insane. Much like Raphael tortures Hope because he despises everything that she represents, I think Haarlep is in a similar situation. Raphael looks at this creature who thrives off of affection and intimacy and hates it because to him, that is a weakness. The solution? Make it suffer an eternity, only giving it enough of what it needs to survive and then it, like Hope, may suffer the same hell that he existed in. There would be no need for weak things like Hope or intamacy in his house.

- on the topic of his incubus nature, I think everything from his smell, sickly sweet but poorly hiding the predatory and carnivorous musk beneath, to the way in which his demonic eyes mimicked that of a reptile wearing a flesh suit, would cause him to feel undeniable uncanny underneath his charming surface. Incubi are masters of understanding mortal emotion and motivation enough to mimic them, usually masters in the art, but remembering that Haarlep has been locked in isolation for an unimaginable amount of time, with the exception of the occasional pragmatic exchange with a visitor, it’s not hard to believe this this would be less masked in his presentation than one would usually expect. When he moves, he slinks and prowls around like a giant demonic tiger, muscles taught and always looking ready to pounce. His face would contort to all of the correct responses, but his expressions would always have a manic intensity to them that looked unnatural and more like what an actor would do on stage. His eyes would stay the same no matter the shape his face made, always dark and piercing you with that uncanny intensity, never leaving you once. Under the mask, you were making eye contact with the dangerous predator that lived underneath.

What it look like when you came along?

- When you encounter in him the boudoir, you give him everything he had spent so long without. You bring a spark of chaos that he’d forgotten the feel of to begin with - if nothing else, a little entertainment for once, but you don’t stop there. You blush and shy before him, you fall for his pretty words and you follow his every demand and for the first time in so long, you finally feed the screaming hunger inside. He charms and flirts with you until you climb under him and all but spend yourself to make him feel good and to serve his every desire. For the first time, he remembers the power that he has and what he was built to do. You, for a moment, make the hunger disappear and give him total satisfaction. A new breath of life. If that wasn’t enough, you also gift him a new form to wear, something he’s also been denied by his master. You waltz into his little cage and where you easily could have cut down the strange creature lurking on the satin sheets, you instead give him every single thing he had been denied for almost his whole existence. You liberate him from his sleepwalking and he becomes fascinated with you for this.

- when alone, Haarlep would now have something interesting to do. He’d love to use your form and just play with it. I know it already mentioned this but I can’t overstate how much I love the idea of Haarlep viewing this form as a fun “doll” to experiment and ‘practice’ with. Brushing your hair, washing it, putting it up in different pretty ways. New and exciting hair. Trying on makeup. Learning what suited your features and how to put it on without making a mess. Your face and all the ways it moves. Siting for hours in front of a vanity mirror, smiling, crying, frowning, that little O your mouth made with your eyes rolling back just like when you’d cum for him for the 4th time that first day…They all looked so delicate and different to his other face. At first, they’d been all wrong and he’d even unsettled himself seeing your face contorted into such hard angles but he had so much time to practice. Using your voice and all the noises he could make with you. The soft chiming of your made sounded too sulty when spoken with his tongue, something else he could improve over time. It was fun to scream and wail and all sorts, they sounded so cute when he was you. He mimicked the moans and gasps you’d made for him as you’d panted and whimpered beneath him the most because those were his favourites. He’d hum and murmur phrases over and over again as he paces around his room, moments of boredom or silence broken by depraved whines and giggles. Your body would be extremely fun to learn. Nobody would know you as intimately as Haarlep could. He would know exactly how you liked to be touched and where, the exact amount of pain that would still allow you to revel in the throes of pleasure, and exactly how your body hurt and jerked in response to crossing that threshold, how to make you cum at his very whim, how to edge you for hours and days at a time, every depraved little kink that caused a jolt of heat to spread in your loins. I think the absolute fascination with being you would only grow his obsession. It was like he wanted to be you, and have you both at the same time.

- this would lead to Haarlep being desperate for you to continue returning to him. Not only can he study you in the flesh, fascinated by every word and move you make, but he can also continue establish a consistent way to feed his incubus cravings. Not only does he want you to come back and let him use you again, but he wants you to stay longer every time. ‘You should bathe with him, little mouse.’ ‘Before you go, tell me about how exactly you managed to drop a spectator flask in the middle of a a tavern.’ ‘But, surely you must be tired, no? The master will be gone for weeks. You could just sleep here.’ Don’t get me wrong, he likes you. You feed him and you make him feel good and you like him so why wouldn’t he? He likes your face and your body and your voice and your hair. Anyway, it lets him know you better. Use you better. Yes, the days spent fucking, or lounging in the bath or bed, or listening to him tell you that you were special and he just loved being around you weren’t lies as far as Haarlep cared, he meant every word of it. Your mistake would be to assume that this means that it’s noticed by love.

- as discussed, incubi are alien in their culture and experience to us. Haarlep is not capable of applying love to his range of abilities, at least not how mortals would usually expect it. He can obsess over you, desperate and possessive. He can like you, and need you, and feel empty every time he isn’t feeding, but you will never be his equal. Whatever flavour your relationship takes, be it predator and prey, pet and master, or shiny toy and owner, to be clear Haarlep will always prioritise his own needs above your own, even when it appears he is being thoughtful, the logic will always loop back to being something that also benefits himself too. Your relationship and favour with Haarlep does not extend past your usefulness to him. He ‘loves’ you because you give him life and power by submitting to him. As soon as you deny him his nature and needs then he would be simply incapable of having interest in you past that, unless it was to force you back into submission. He, by his nature, would want you to see him as your sole purpose in life. He needs you to love him, and need him, and think about him, and fear him and he needs you to feel hollow and empty whenever he is not there. Love is devoting yourself to this cause and wanting nothing but his happiness, and reducing yourself to something that can’t exist without him. The way he would return this love is by trying to treat you well and keep you happy too. He would recognise your needs and desires and as long as it didn’t conflict with his own, he would humour you any time he could. Again, you’re valuable to him, a souvenir of his new life and a reliable source to feed from, and he likes you. There would be nothing to gain from being bad and deliberately cruel to you, unless you pushed him into it. He wants you thriving and all the more eager to give him whatever he wants, when he asks. It may manipulative and selfishly motivated, but again, that is just his nature. He would love you very deeply and consumingly, but like a possession or a useful toy.

- On that note, loving Haarlep would not be a pleasant, easy experience. First it comes with accepting that loving him is inherently destructive. While you spend your time filling the void in Haarlep, he would spend his moulding the emptiness inside of you to only fit him because he had to ensure that you would never have a reason to leave or deny him and he had to make your needs fit only what he could provide you. He would convince you that only he could make you happy and that nobody would ever compare to him, and he would sow a deep fear inside of you that if you disappointed him, he’d leave you and you’d be alone and have nothing. Think about it, incubus are kind of the embodiment of unhealthy, toxic, and destructive relationships and the kind of romance written about in Shakespearean epics that always ends in tragedy. Again, he does very much love you in his own way but that doesn’t mean it translates as such. Give him everything he wants? Good, he’ll treat you like a perfect little doll and he’ll be so doting, and loving, and soft, and kind for you. Try to deny or escape him? He will use fear and suffering to convince you back into his warm, “loving” embrace.

- on that note, I think another tragic element to this romance comes from the fact that what Haarlep genuinely views as kindness, isn’t always perceived as such. Your relationship would destroy any passion and enjoyment you have for life outside of your bond to him, as his nature intends. This means that the fuller he feels, the emptier you often feel and the only cure and comfort you can find, by his design, is himself. Say he sees your spark slipping more every time you come back, your eyes more dull and tired with every visit. It would make him feel distressed. He didn’t want you to be unhappy. He wanted to make you happy like you make him happy. What was it you needed that he want giving to you? If he took your soul and left you a mindless doll, then surely then you’d be happy and stop crying? You’d not even remember any other needs, you’d be like him. The only hunger you would feel anymore would be to be used which is perfect because he always hungers to use you. Wouldn’t this be the kind thing to do? He’d do it for you, because he cares. It would make them both so happy. He’d hiss into your ear as he rode you frowning at the tears slipping onto the sheets. “It would all be over so quick. You wouldn’t feel anything. You’d never be sad again. Let me do this for you.”

- on a lighter note, for all the extreme oppressive lows of loving him, there would also come the incomparable highs he’d be able to make you feel that kept you returning. I mean, if you’re someone who struggles with loneliness and connecting to others, those issues would be long forgotten with him. He would know you inside and out better than anyone ever could. Your fears, your desires and everything that made you ‘you’ would be engraved into his memory. Like a little subconscious, he’d exist at the back of your brain, a constant companion. You’d feel his awareness of you and your activities at all times and sometimes you’d hear him reaching out to you, begging for you to return to him. With Haarlep, for better or worse, you’d never know what it felt to be alone or have privacy of anything anymore. Everything that you had and that you were would be his too. As long as you could cope with the uncertainty of what he was capable of feeling for you, knowing how much of the act came from truth, he would play the role of whatever you wanted him to be. He’d build a little world where the only things that existed were both of you and you would never be alone or unhappy as long as you just stayed here in it, with him.

The ‘happy ever afters’…

- I can see it ending multiple ways. Firstly, there’s the chance that he simply grows bored of you after you get old or he simply finds something newer and more exciting. Perhaps he drains you of all your passion and fun and then has no use left for you. Either he’ll convince you to give him your soul as a final act of devotion to him and move on, or maybe he’ll just forget about you and leave you behind, so broken and alone. The emptiness he made inside of you would no doubt consume you and you would be left a lifeless husk regardless. He wouldn’t feel bad about it per say, he would always value everything you gave him and he had genuinely enjoyed the time spent with you but this was the inevitable conclusion, he guessed. You were by nature his prey, and as enjoyable as the feast had been, your meat smelt rotten to him now. Had you expected anything else, really?

- the second scenario I can see is that he keeps you around for as long as possible. His obsession with you, fed by his dark and consuming nature, would lead him to always be able to feed from your hand. His entire existence would become dedicated to both of your hedonistic pleasure and to milking everything he could take from you. Any time he wasn’t feeding from you, you can bet he’s out there somewhere enjoying life through your eyes. Any time you are not with him he’s haunting your mind and begging so sweetly for you. Like a treasure, he’d want to display you to the world and he’d want nothing more than to preserve you. He knew that you needed love and softness to thrive so he would deny you none of it. He would worship you and you would serve him so well in return.

- This is totally silly but I also just love the vampire and incubus dynamic. Creatures lead by the same beast but who tame it differently. I know it’s totally self gratifying but I love the idea of incubi having the ability to either turn someone into a vampire (something like older DnD lore) or Haarlep finding a way to immortalise his obsession in this method.(“ Hey, ascended Astarion, please turn me into a spawn so that I can have a dark parasitic love with my demon boyfriend.”)

Like think about it, he’d be able to corrupt and reduce his obsession to something more like him. Something he could better understand and fulfil the needs of. It would seem like the perfect solution. They would be able to let him use their body forever and feed from them as much as he ever could want. In turn, they’d be stuck to his side by the promise of as much fiendish blood as they could ever want. They’d doom each other living like two leaches attached to one another, both giving and taking in return and incapable of leaving, lest they risk starving. They’d be able to fill their needs in each other forever and their depraved idea of love would become a poetic and self fulfilling prophecy.

A/N: thanks for reading. I do take prompts and requests too. Idk if I got the right about of ‘dark’ in the ‘romance’ captured here or if I went to far in either way for it to be enjoyable but I hope you liked it. I think Haarlep is so hard to write for because when you’re trying to describe and explain the emotions and motivations of an incubus and look at the world through their lens, it mostly gets lost in translation, so to say lol.

#haarlep imagines #haarlep headcanon #haarlep headcanons #haarlep x tav #haarlep imagine #haarlep smut #haarlep bg3 #bg3 haarlep #haarlep x reader #haarlep #incubus boyfriend #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #haarlep x you

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selarina · 9 months

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Dancing with Shadows

-> Getou Suguru x Fem!Reader

Summary: Beneath the soft glow of the moonlight, a meeting with Getou Suguru ignites the princess's recollections of a stolen kiss at death's door.

Content Warnings: fluff, canon compliant, kisses, inspired by Aladdin, mild language, themes of mortality and death, mentions of drowning, descriptions of flying, power imbalance (reader is a princess), hinted forbidden romance, unedited

Word Count: 2.7k words

Read on AO3

You remember it all too well, your room was aglow with a soft light from the moon herself. She showed herself whole and bright as you playfully dangled a piece of yarn in front of your tiger, Raja.

The large feline swiped and nipped at the yarn, displaying a manner more akin to a domestic cat than his regal lineage would ever suggest. His paw stops mid-way through the air and you notice his eyes no longer dancing with delight.

You squint, and a disquieting stillness took hold of your room, and before you could investigate or even think further, the one who is culpable calls out to you from amidst the obscurity of the dark balcony.

You turn cautiously as you turn the light on. The huge span of your balcony comes alit, and a figure — one you are more familiar with than you would like for he seems to haunt you even in your dreams.

Eyes narrowed, suspicion gripping like a vice, you walk out of your room and into the balcony.

He stands right in the dead straight in the middle of your balcony, shrouded in moonlight as he greets you, “Princess” and he bows slightly, but not low enough as custom often demands.

A frown emerges as your retort, “And who might you be?” But you already know, and with the way he’s staring at you with a cocksure smile tells you that he knows just as well, but he plays along for he is nothing but subservient in the presence of royalty.

“It’s Getou, Getou Suguru.” He says, and your fingers touch your chin as you feigned deep thought, even though your mind was far from contemplation.

"I don’t recall a Getou Suguru, although you do seem familiar," you replied, crossing your arms as your eyes remained fixed on him.

“Oh! I only assisted in saving your life a few days earlier, princess. No big deal though,” he replied, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, fully aware of your pretense.

Your gaze bore into his, unamused by his tone. But you are nothing but not trained in society and its many customs, practically bred to rule it after all, so you continue. “Then I extend my thank you for your assistance. I’ll be sure to see that my father rewards you and your four-eyed friend if he hasn’t already done so.”

“Oh, we were rewarded generously. Tokyo Jujutsu High School of Sorcery will be sure to use that to fund one of its many schemes. No doubt.”

Your eyes stare back in recognition. Jujutsu Society is nothing if not corruptive, and you just so happen to be next in line as the one handling the puppets. Puppets like Getou Suguru.

"I see," you responded, your gaze fixated on him. With a deliberate motion, you reached for the bracelet sitting heavy on your wrist and stepped closer to him. You studied him for a moment before gently taking his hand and placing the bracelet on his hand.

“What’s this for?” He asks as he titled like a dog in confusion.

“Reward,” you say, you stated plainly.

“I think I’ll manage without the money.” He tries to hand it back to you, but you’re quick as your hand comes behind you, locking in so he can’t reach them. He steps forward, his hands trying as it grazes across your hips, but you simply lock your hands in further into each other.

Annoyance flickered in his eye, as he stood a few mere breaths away from your lips.

You smirk in victory, but it doesn’t sit on your face long, as you speak. “It’s more of an appreciation. When your four-eyed friend—”

“Satoru,” he says.

“Right, yes. When Gojo Satoru suggested leaving me to die, you insisted on helping me so I am forever grateful for what you did that day. It could have turned out to be my last and that’s so—” You look away as you continue, “— mortal.”

You turn back, and only now do you seem to notice that he’s really really close than is appropriate. You really hope no one walks in on you but you can’t manage to bring yourself to step away from his space. Meeting his gaze, you added, "As I mentioned, my appreciation goes beyond words, and I am willing to do whatever is necessary to repay you."

Your expression remains stern but for some reason, he seems to want to gauge you out of it now that he’s got a slight taste of your mortality because the next few words that came out of his mouth leave you wide-eyed.

He shifted closer, the space between you narrowing, his eyes fixed on yours. "You could repay it in the same way you did back then," he suggested, his voice low and measured.

You stumbled over your words, taken aback by the unexpected proposition. "T-That was a different circumstance. Why would you—? I only kissed you because I was overwhelmed by literally coming back to life. I wouldn't have done it otherwise."

“You come back to life, and the first thing you did was kiss me, why?”

There seems not to be a single fluctuation in his face as he says that so plainly but you feel an aura of repugnant smugness brewing from his pleasant-looking face.

It is repugnant, you try to tell yourself again but the way your eyes trail down from his bangs that cover his dark pool of an eye to his slightly ajar lips. The way they seem so soft.

Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. "That's none of your business.”

"It becomes my business since it involved my lips," he pressed, inching closer until your breaths mingled in the space between you.

“Well, they were my lips too and I choose not to entertain this any further so I’m leaving. Goodnig—”

Swoosh! And his hand swoops through to hold your waist. You could still pull away but it sits on the crevice of your hips like a heavy anchor.

“Let go,” you try, but your voice comes out muted like a whisper.

“I deserve to know,” he says, as his eyes trail down to your lips now. You bite softly against your lower lip, all you want is for him to disappear and never ask you this question again. In fact, you wish he could disappear and only come back in your dreams. He was nicer, more dreamier in them anyhow.

“Why can’t you just let it go — It’s just a kiss.” You tsk in annoyance.

“Well, I deserve to know because you took my first kiss,” he says and your eyes go wide again.

“What? There’s no way that was your first kiss,” you blurt out.

“Why? Was I good?” You think for a moment that he might be playing it smug but you feel that the question is genuine somehow, like he truly wants to know.

“Yes — I mean, no! I just meant that you’re… you know.”

“I’m what?”

You stare at him back baffled, irritated, flustered — you can’t tell anymore. Does this guy not care to preserve a lady’s dignity?

“You just seem like a guy that girls would like,” you respond.

“So?”

“So?” You brows raise in confusion, “So, you could easily kiss someone?”

“Oh,” he pauses. “Yeah, I guess I never really wanted to but anyhow, that’s not an answer. Why did you do that?”

You sigh, but ever since he told you it was his first kiss. You feel bad that you kissed him so hastily, or that you kissed him at all but you do feel better about telling him.

“When I was dying, all I could think about was how I was dying without kissing anyone so I guess I kissed the first living person I saw,” you say.

“You saw Satoru first,” he corrects you, as you roll your eyes.

“Well — He wanted to have me dead if you don’t remember. Besides, sharing my first being with the guy who saved me from dying has a certain romantic… flavor. But I am truly sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“For not asking you first,” you say, genuinely upset that you didn’t but circumstances did seem a lot more dire back then.

“It’s okay,” he says, smiling. “It was a decent first kiss.” But once again, it quickly fades into a soft smirk — “But I would like a redo.”

Indignation ignited as you retreated back, indignant at his audacity. “No way,” you declared firmly.

"It's a reasonable request, considering how you stole it from me," he pressed, his tone unyielding.

“Suguru Getou, I owe you nothing. Leave,” you turn away from him and towards your room. Your demeanor returns to your regal self.

"Alright, I'll take my leave now."

"Fine," you stated, waiting for his retreating footsteps, but the sound never came.

You turn, and you found him already precariously standing on the railing of the balcony, his one foot prodding out like he’s going to jump. And as your mouth immediately open up in haste — “Wait a second!”

But it’s too late, Suguru takes a step off the balcony rail, seemingly into an empty space, and you think about how you’ll likely find the splatter of his blood on your walks every morning for weeks on end, as you scream.

But soon the sight of the empty balcony is replaced by a surreal sight of Suguru hovering in mid-air?

“How?” You move forward, amazed, starry-eyed like a cat on catnip. “How are you doing that?”

“It’s uh — a dragon,” he speaks as the dragon reveals itself, rising gracefully to your eyeline.

You stared in awe, its presence so majestic and immense. It leaves you with strange feelings of triviality. You move closer until you’re practically standing pressed against the railing, as if the first man you kissed couldn’t get any better.

“You can touch him, you know?” He says, as your eyes come up to his face, seemingly still in a daze. “If you want to.”

Your hand comes up as you hesitantly reached out to feel the dragon's scales, only mere inches away before your hands back out. You’re scared.

But then you bring your hand up again, and you’re trying, trying, and trying until a soft warm weight meets your hand — Getou’s own hand accompanies, and together, you placed your palm against the dragon's scaly skin.

You feel it growl, and it reverberates all the way from within the dragon into your own body. You feel the hair stand up behind your back. You were touching something beyond imagination itself.

“This is so surreal,” you say, mostly to yourself.

“Do you want to ride it?”

Your brows raise and you’re still in a daze but you know, you probably shouldn’t. You only almost died 3 days ago, your family would be worried sick if they were to come in while you were gone but it’s a dragon. It’s a fucking dragon, you think as you turn back to see your empty room.

Raja sits there on the floor of your room, too occupied with unraveling the ball of yarn to care, and the curtains sway against the night air revealing how empty and sad your room looks.

You turn back, “You can pretend I'm not even here. I won't say a word.”

This provokes a puzzled half-smile from Jasmine, and it tells him all he needs to know as he brings the dragon lower and closer to the railing. He extends his hand to you.

“Is it safe?” You ask, still reluctant, still scared.

“It is. Do you trust me?” He says, the same as his first words to her only three days ago. The same words echo through her head all the time, even in her dreams.

You stare at him, his hair swishing against the night air, as he stares at you intently. He hasn’t pulled you onto the dragon, despite your hesitancy. He wants you to come onto the dragon all by yourself.

“Yes,” you say, as he pulls you onto the dragon, seating you right behind him.

“Ready?”

“No,” and then the dragon rockets off into the sky. Your hands immediately come to close around his body, frightened by immediate flight. Suguru twists his head back and the two of you become aware of your proximity as you slowly release yourself from him, still not fully letting go.

You look down and see a breathtaking view of the Palace, the moonlight sitting on top, and a view so far that you can even see the span of the city after the castle. You’ve only ever seen this in pictures, having never left the confines of your castle as much. It’s the perfect picture, one you stare at every time you walk by the royal gallery – only it’s all real.

“Where are we going then, dragon boy?”

Suguru's lips quirk into a smirk at your nickname, a glimmer of amusement in his eye. “Someplace special,” he replies.

The dragon keeps going until Suguru notices a herd of horses running across a large field, and he decides to lower the dragon down. He turns it into a race, swooshing through to beat the running horses, but you could barely care, the rough wind against your face has made you feel more alive than ever. Beating even the time you came back to life after meeting and sleeping with death itself.

You smile, as Suguru smirks. He won the race.

The dragon's journey continues, sweeping over so many places. Places you only saw pictures of, or through the confines of a car — ancient temples, bustling malls, serene lakes, and even mundane puddles. The rough wind meets your face, a tangible reminder of today.

At one point, you catch Suguru’s gaze fixed on your own, as you gaze at a lake below, and you think about how you almost drowned that night. How haunting — you swore you would never go near water again. Only that’s impossible.

“Take us down to the lake, please?”

He doesn’t say anything, merely abiding with your request as the dragon goes down and down and down until you’re close, and then it twists. You smile, because Suguru got what you wanted to do without you even saying it.

Your hand leaves the safety of being around him as you swish through the clear blue water for a few brief seconds before the dragon’s off again.

The two of you finally settle atop a building against a background of twinkling stars. Deep within the city — you never truly got to see the sky so clearly, but now you think you could touch even the stars in the sky. It just seemed too clear and too real.

Your eyes scan him from your place next to him, he’s got dark circles, and his ears are pierced, adorning large black studs mirroring the soft twinkle in his eyes as he stares intently at a building somewhere afar. You never really notice them before this moment, how dark his eyes really are.

“So is your power talking to animals or something?” You ask.

“It’s a bit more… morbid than that,” he replies, his eyes still focused.

“Well, I think it’s really cool,” you say, your moving away from him to scan the city — the bustling traffic, the skies, the trees, the railways, and the river. It’s all too real, and you know you only have a while before it’s all over.

He feels the need to interject, his power is nothing but a burden to him. It’s the only reason he keeps getting up every morning to go to Jujutsu High School. Sometimes he could see himself living a quiet life in the woods somewhere, with a small house and no connection to the real world but as he watches the soft wind flush against him, his eyes came to part ways to the image of your face, your nose, and your eyes that seem to mirror the moon.

He digresses, “Yeah, it is.”

You turn, and you notice him staring. You smile, as your fingers inch closer to his own before you do the same with your body. He mirrors you until he’s only mere inches away before he’s kissing you.

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 1 year

Text

Body in Abyss, Heart in Paradise (1)

Prompt:

Pairing: NA

Genre: Angst

TW: A lot of angst, Simeon’s fear of his father is shown here, the fall, the big man upstairs just being a generic a**hole

Simeon hurried through the gardens. He had been summoned directly by Father for some ‘urgent matter’, entrusting Luke to one of the lower angels who took care of the angel kids as he made his way to the biggest and grandest palace in all of the Celestial Realm. Just as he was at the gates, he saw Michael pacing back and forth, the normally cold and composed angel in a visible state of distress.

The archangel walked over to his former colleague, who took no notice of him till he was standing right in front of him. “Michael, what’s going on?”

“We don’t have time to talk. Come on,” Michael said, pulling the other angel inside the gates by the arm, nearly making Simeon trip. Anyone inside the castle would have witnessed a confused and slightly scared Simeon being dragged to the Throne Room by a distraught Michael, a sight that had not been seen since the days of the Great Celestial War.

Simeon had greatly admired his Father once. The Father of all Creation, the one who had created him and his brothers and sisters, the one he had unconditionally and devotedly served all those years.

But the Celestial War and the fall of seven of his siblings had dimmed his admiration. It was as if a blindfold had been removed, exposing the former seraphim to just how corrupted the Celestial Realm had been. These realizations had brought with them a paralyzing fear, one that twisted and turned around his mind, bringing him countless sleepless nights. But nothing could have prepared him for the absolute dread he felt when he saw you standing in the middle of the angelic court.

You. MC, the one who had become the bridge for the three realms, stood in front of him in angelic garb. Two ivory wings, resembling those of a dove curled around your figure, accentuating the softness and warmth you had always emanated. At a glance, nothing seemed amiss. Simeon had always thought you were like an angel. But seeing the broken halo swirling around your head, the liquid shards moving in an almost life-like manner made him sick.

Michael pushed him forward, in front of the entire court of high ranking angels with his Father on the highest seat. Simeon kneeled, as he was taught, as he was supposed to do.

“Rise my son.”

Simeon did as he was told, ignoring your scared gaze. Making a point not to look at your face, he asked, “How may I be of service, Father?”

The man pointed towards you, prompting Simeon to follow his finger and lock gazes with you. You looked so lost, so confused. Like a lost little lamb, away from its green pastures. Away from its family.

Simeon swallowed heavily, wondering if everyone else in the room could hear how loud his heart was beating.

“This young one over here. I have come to know that they were previously the human who had succeeded in making pacts with my fallen sons. And now, they’re here.” Simeon paid attention to every word like he was supposed to, trying to ignore the tone of disgust. Trying hard to not let his feelings show on his face as he heard the mumbles of the others present in the room.

“I see Father.”

“Do you know why their halo is like… that?”

Simeon lowered his gaze, his fists clenching. “N-no, Father.”

“Very well then. I shall educate you,” the voice drawled, making the angel wince. He glanced at you.

“It’s the influence of their pacts. Now, usually, the effect and power of the pacts fade when the human dies. However, this little one wasn’t exactly an ordinary human, now were they?” The sickly sweet words coated with a heavy layer of venom made Simeon sick.

“After all, they carried the blood of an angel during their times as mortal.”

Simeon’s head shot up as the murmurs around him increased. What? Angelic blood? He looked at you, trying to see what you thought of this news. But one look at your grim face gave away the truth that was concealed from him.

You knew.

Simeon felt faint. Nothing made sense. How could you have the blood of an angel? After the Celestial War, angels were strictly forbidden from having any sort of contact with humans, the restrictions only recently being lifted due to Diavolo’s efforts on uniting the three realms.

“How is that possible Father?” Another angel, which he’d later find out to be Gabriel, voiced his thoughts. The person addressed chuckled, the sound sending shivers up Simeon’s spine.

“Diavolo, the prince of Devildom, helped Lilith be reincarnated as a human before she died as an angel. That was how he gained the loyalty of my fallen sons,” he said, and the room devolved into chaos. Angels were talking over each other, trying to make sense of the situation presented before them. Throughout this, Simeon only looked at you. He didn’t know how to feel. Betrayed, because you didn’t tell him even though you knew? Relieved, that Lilith didn’t actually die in the war as he thought? Concerned about what his Father would do now he knew?

“Silence!”

Just as suddenly as the noise started, it stopped with a single utterance from the highest of them all. All heads turned to their Creator, waiting with bated breath for his next move. “Now that there is order again, I shall continue. Normally I would consider this as a violation of the peace treaty we have signed with the Devildom and declare war.” At the mention of war, the atmosphere grew solemn. “However, I have thought of another, more peaceful solution. Mc, my dear child, if you cooperate with us, I will put all of this behind us.”

You looked up at him, ignoring the stares. “I’m listening,” you said, making sure not to give him the respect that he hadn’t earned yet. A small part of you delighted in the fact that the smile on his face faltered a bit, but the much larger part of you was scared.

“Bring back my sons to me.”

You gawked at the man before you, and his ridiculous proposition. “What?” you asked, hoping that this was all a dream. That when you woke up from this nightmare you’d be surrounded by the very sons he was speaking about and be able to laugh with them about this.

“I said, bring back my fallen sons to me. Lucifer is too proud to return to the place he betrayed, and Mammon and his other brothers will follow him wherever he goes. However, I’m sure if you asked them to come back, they would. After all, both the Celestial Realm and the entirety of the Devildom are aware of their affections for you-”

“What if they don’t?” you asked, gasps ringing all around since you cut the highly exalted Father in the middle of his speech. You crossed your arms over your chest. “What if they don’t listen to me and they don’t want to come back here? What if they’re happy down there?”

You hoped that this Father would be as benevolent and generous as he was said to be on Earth. That he’d think of their happiness and put it first. But all your hopes were shattered with the next sentence.

“Then you use those pacts of yours and order them to come back.”

You blinked, speechless. He seemed to take your silence as consent, and continued, “Of course, they wouldn’t be able to resist a pact order. After they’ve come back, we could do something for your broken halo and-”

“No.”

The word rang clear in the room, stunning the occupants. Everyone looked at the angel who had the audacity to refuse Father. A pair of blue eyes met yours, the owner of them coming forward to stand beside you. Simeon intertwined your fingers with his, trying to hold onto the burst of adrenaline that he had. Looking up at his creator, he spat out, “You will not make Mc do something of this sort.”

Simeon watched as the fake smile finally fell off his Father’s face. “Child, it would do you well to not refuse me. My sons-”

“Are well and happy in the Devildom, happier than they have ever been and you need to accept that Father!” Simeon exclaimed, finally standing up and speaking his mind. “What makes you think they would agree to any of this?! Even if Mc used their pacts to bring them here and tie them again the Celestial Realm, they would just resent you more. What do you stand to gain from this? Why can’t you just let them live in peace?!”

Simeon felt you squeeze his hand, your attempt at calming him down being very effective. He took a deep breath to clear his mind, ignoring the heated looks he was receiving from all those present in the room. He had made his decision.

“I regret not fighting alongside them in the War,” he admitted. “I should have been there for them, for Lilith. Instead, I took a neutral stance, because I had faith in you, in your love. And look where that has gotten me,” he chuckled bitterly, tears filling his eyes.

He looked up at the man before him, and for a second he thought he saw a sliver of regret in his eyes. That went as fast as it had come, and so did Simeon’s sympathy for him. “There is a quote in the Human Realm. It goes 'Body in abyss, heart in paradise’.”

“I intend to find out if it’s really true.”

With that Simeon grabbed onto your waist, his own wings unfurling as he flew out of the room before anyone could react. “Simeon, what-”

“Please just go along with this for now,” Simeon said as he looked out for the one person he needed to say goodbye to. “We need to get to the Devildom as quickly as possible. That way, they wouldn’t have control over us.”

“Wait- wouldn’t that mean we’d have to fall?” you asked, eyes widened as you held onto him. It took him a while to respond.

“Yes.”

Next ->

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me writing #obey me simeon #obey me mc #obey me michael #obey me angst #omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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