#he's before the events of the game and after

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[dalishious]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Q&A Notes Part 2

There are "fade-touched" enemies in Arlathan.

The detonation combos are meant to create a feeling of teamwork.

You can select both your pronouns and gender separately. The character creation is extremely deep. There was a focus on skin tones done respectfully!

They are actively looking into developing a photomode for the game.

The ability wheel does have a capacity. You can choose three abilities for Rook, and three for each companion. This means strategizing is important before the mission. There will be an "ultiamte" ability associated with your class. There are also runes that can be used as temporary buffs.

There are "Frost Nova" and "Meteor" abilities similar to "Cone of Cold" and "Fireball" in the past.

They have spent time on accessibilty features, but will not share details until closer to launch.

It's been about ten years since the events of Trespasser. Solas's ritual has taken time to set up, and Rook is coming in at the end of that.

In Thedas, ancient elves go bald after a millennia. Solas was not always bald! "If you see Solas in the past, he will look different."

Companions have specific colour palettes and styles, but you can modify them.

[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love.

Chapter: VIII-Wings-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 4.4k+

♠︎Warning: blow job, indirect mentions of rape (not from jk's end!), ghosts.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist.

Lost. That was all Coronis knew. She lost her life. There were chains around her ankles, wrists, and neck. The hold was in the hands of one of the Royal men who rode the horse with the other four walking like pillars.

Her hair was sticking to her face, her sweat was running down her face and dropping on the ground. Even in this ungodly winter, she was burning.

The soles of her feet were bleeding down the path. And the muddy stones were clinging to her wounded feet, deepening them, reminding her of the gore of her life that it turned into.

Life has never been forgiving to anyone and it only took and took and took. It was a game of time, where only those who survived cheated their ways. And those who died, who died every day.

The grey of the sky and howling of the wind didn't scare the woman that Coronis had become. Instead, they showered the comfort of the fact that she was not the only one having the deeper turmoil of fucked up emotions. All of them grey and thunderously howling.

Harder, it always got harder. And now it was the hardest to even take a step ahead. Knowing that death was waiting behind those tall walls of the hell called the castle. Waiting for her in the craving of lust… the lust of blood.

Hours had passed since they started dragging her like a dead cow on the muddy lanes of the village. The people took the greatest pleasure in seeing a woman being humiliated.

It seemed like it was in the human nature of men to humiliate, degrade, and bury a woman who stood a chance in class. A woman who was more intellectual than them. They hated it. And took them down until no respect was left for their poor feminine name.

An object. That's what a woman was and is and will remain for a chunk of men. A woman whose religion is her man and her holy scriptures is her man’s order. They live under their horrid boots and get stepped on by many others under that boot.

As they took Coronis away the men looked. Some smirked and threw names at her and some made up fucked up stories that were nowhere near her fucked up truth.

Only if they knew.

The anger erupted inside her head and her face twitched as the events of the day echoed in her burning head.

~

“No, my love. You must know what it costs for your actions. For your betrayal.”

The King smirked under his mask and took Coronis's hair in his fist, pushing her out of the alley. “No one disregards what I say,” he whispered in her ear, the roughness of his voice stood out. “If they do indeed do that, they are met with the hell of their eternities. Now be a good fucking bitch and walk to your little shack.”

His hold on her hair tightened, making her yelp in pain before he released and pushed her.

Her breath was shallow, and coming in pants. There was no way out of such commotion. And she had to run through it. At least, to protect those who were close to her.

Coronis took heavy steps, trying not to break down in front of the man who got on his horse to see the drama unfold for his pleasure. This was the beginning of the sick pleasure. She knew it.

People gathered around as Coronis arrived at her shack, looking paler than before. There was a tremble in her shoulders and unshed tears in her eyes. They, too, took pleasure in seeing the drama.

She was the puppet and he was the puppet master. Coronis scoffed, thinking that everyone in her vision was his puppet. He played them all and dropped them when their wires broke or joints didn't move as swiftly as he wanted.

And what happened after?

They burn.

They all fucking burn.

They all burn in despair. They burn in hell. They burn in vengeance.

And then they fall on the ashes of the poor and become one with them.

This is how His Majesty's world worked. And anyone who disturbed the cycle shall meet the same fate.

The King, with his head ever high in the sky, got off the horse, “Tell me, pretty thing. Where did you keep it?” he asked as he played with a lock of her hair.

Circe was inside. There was no way in hell she wanted her to see him. So she stood on her grounds. The silence ticked the king’s patience. His jaw clenched as he wrapped his fist around her hair and pulled her ear close to his mouth. “You either be an obedient little birdy and show me where you kept it or be a bitch and I look for it myself… and remember, little birdy, if I do… I’ll finish whoever steps in front of me. Get it?” He said as his lips brushed her ear.

Coronis felt her anger consuming her. Finally, she stepped inside her shack with the dark shadow following her through. She quickly went inside her slot and opened the trunk where she had kept the damn thing away.

Her shaky hands fumbled around in the trunk and took hold of the dainty chain. The bone locket rocked side to side like a pendulum in slow motion. However, a big hand wrapped around it and snatched it from Coronis’s hand.

The king looked at the bone with strange emotions in his eyes. It was almost like he thawed and showed a human beneath the monster. But it was gone in a blink.

Maybe she hallucinated. He wasn't capable of that. He had no emotions in his blood.

His eyes snapped at her. They were cold and ruthless. No emotion. No sign of life. Just as good as the eyes of the dead.

“You called it upon yourself, little birdy,” his voice was low as his eye twitched. “Say goodbye to your little family… but when the sky will loom with wrath, they will take you to me,” he whispered as his eyes grew psychotic with each word. “Don’t fight if you want your family to live.”

~

Coronis was thankful for one thing. They, who were taking her to her death, didn't put a hand on her. She had grown up seeing these men putting their bloodied hands on women they took to their deaths and humiliating them in front of everyone. No shame for anyone just dripping in lust and taking the sole respect of a woman away before she could die. They stained their souls. Souls… if they could, they would catch those mourning souls and humiliate them, too.

A sick reality that wasn't just bound to this hell of His Majesty but everywhere on this round living hell of a world.

No one was safe. Children, women, men, older… they were all puppets. A pawn in His game.

Through the dense fog, she could make out the house of horrors. The tall, black, and gory castle stood high up. Its pointy peaks pierced through the sky.

Coronis had heard about this. It was a place better not seen. This was the place where the hell formed, where The Monster lived…

The narrow-staired bridge came down the way. The captors aligned themselves. Now they were in a straight line. Two ahead of her and two behind her. The pathway was narrow, one mistake and she could fall below.

Who knew what lived down there?

As she followed them to the inferno, her burning skin got a cold whip of air. The cold. That's what she thought it was. Until… the whispers echoed—

Come on pretty girl, come down here. It said.

Look! Look here, it's so pretty here and- and so peaceful! The other one whispered.

Don't cross the door. You're gonna die! Someone whispered, crying. It was the voice of an old lady. A shivering old lady.

He is going to ravage you… kill you. You won't even acknowledge your own face! They laughed.

You are going to end up here anyway, pretty thing. Come! Just come down here already! You will save him time. A sweet voice whispered.

What a waste of that pretty face, they said, sadly, what's the point of such glassy skin and those black hair and eyes when there is no regard for that? A snarky voice chirped.

Coronis looked around, eyes wide open. Have I gone maniac? She asked herself.

Oh! She hears us! Sweety, we were once in your position. A voice giggled.

How are you so pretty? Why so little blood on you? Huh? Some of us here were already dead by the time we reached this bridge.

They threw me here because I was half dead.

You should jump off right now!

How could she? She is protected by them. Look! They have her tied securely. Even if she did jump, they would catch her.

She must be someone important to Him.

Shut up! No one is important to Him!

The whispers evaded her head as they grew louder and louder. The one, very precisely, stood out from the rest…

Get away. You are going to die horribly.

Die.

Die.

Die.

The hysteria rose within her and the adrenaline rushed through her blood. It was only when the captors stopped she realized they had crossed the bridge and were in front of the humongous metal doors.

The adrenaline blinded her throughout the journey. She looked back and could not see more than a few meters. The fog was too dense and it seemed as if the other side didn't exist at all. As if she entered a whole other world. Even worse from where she came.

The captors got off the horses. The horses were escorted back as the metal doors creaked open. The guards passed, tugging her in with them.

The inside was steady. As if no one lived there. However, she could see some men standing in their positions. All dressed in black, holding their swords or axes. Their half of the faces were only covered with sheer cloth. Not as much as they wore while lurking in the village.

The front was a huge garden, filled with black, white and red roses, and dried shrubs. It looked abandoned. Lifeless. An illusion of death around the thorny beauty of roses, one could say.

The guards pulled her through the thorny path and took her in through a much smaller door.

The inside was dark and eerie. Huge black chandeliers, barely reflecting the orange of the mashal, were hanging down the path they took. The Gothic design followed throughout. If she wasn't bleeding and brought here like an object, she would have been amazed. It was unlikely, she had never seen something remotely as beautiful as this.

“She is here,” a guard spoke with another guard standing outside of another set of doors. This was distinguishable from the others. The rest were metal but this was a black, velvety door.

The four guards removed their masks as the doors opened. “Now, when we go inside, you need to bow down to His Majesty,” one of the guards said, tugging her inside.

Court. It was the court of His Majesty.

The scent of roses filled her nose as she stepped inside. She saw six women standing there, three on each side, with their heads lowered. They wore black dresses that left very little to the fantasy. Although, they were draped with mesh cloth.

They walked in, and Coronis’ feet left bloodied imprints on the floor.

Coronis slowly took in what was in front of her. There were big, black seats. What appeared to be the members of the court, were sitting on them. Every man sat was accompanied by two ladies dressed the same as the six others. There were three on each side.

Her eyes came back to the centre. Royal stairs were leading her eyes up and up and up until her eyes fell on the lady kneeling between long legs. Coronis followed those legs. She noticed a large hand clutching the hair of the lady and pushed and pulled on it.

She could see his big chest through the opening of his robe blouse. His chest was defined and she could see the pointy bits poking through the silky material. His chest was moving up and down as he breathed heavily.

Following the path of his thick glassy neck as it bobbed when he groaned hoarsely, her eyes fell on The Creation of the Devil. Her mouth fell open when she saw His face. It was the art of the devil. Sinfully sculpted monster. He had a chiselled jaw, clear skin, and a perfect nose. His eyes were closed as his head was resting back on his high chair. The big crown was held high on it, signifying his power over his kingdom.

She gasped as her eyes snapped to the whole scene, realizing what he was doing to her.

Nobody seemed to care but no one wanted to disrupt his euphoria either. But her gasp did.

The King's eyes slowly opened as his smirk grew. He looked at her with those same piercing eyes that she had been having nightmares about.

No way he was so sinfully beautiful. His cunning features were sharp, reflecting his influence and his confidence among his people. He was breathtaking and clean.

She had always envisioned Him to be an older man. With a dirty self and skanky looks. But oh was she wrong. But the monster living under his skin was all of those things. He was the Satan who lured innocents with his ethereal handsome looks to manipulate them to hell.

The monsters come in good faces, Coro. Never forget that, her mother has said once. She was right.

His Majesty let out a breathy moan as he chuckled. “Oh, we are here, aren't we,” he hummed as he shoved his cock deeper into the lady’s mouth, feeling ever so aroused in his Birdy's warm presence. This time, his satiny voice was not muffled behind the mask he wore.

The guards bowed down, pulling her along them and made her kneel in front of Him. Her forehead touched the ground roughly.

The King groaned, not liking how his pretty little birdy was bowing making her pretty little face hide behind her dark black hair.

“Let me see that pretty face,” he rasped. The guards pulled her up by the chains until she was standing again. “Hm,” he hummed as his cock twitched inside the lady's mouth. He was about to finish down her throat by just looking at his little birdy. “So, pretty but a fucking bitch. Can't even obey one thing I asked her.” he tsked, shaking his head in disappointment.

Coronis was scared, who wouldn't be when you are surrounded by a pack of bloodthirsty wolves? But she tried to not let it slip. She stood on her ground and looked into his hazel, burning eyes.

The King's gaze darkened as he shoved the lady's head deeper, holding her there until she was unable to breathe. “You shall obey every command I give you. Nobody has the power to deny it. And you did! And you shall now pay the price,” he darkly said and let go of the lady. “You must remember your place, little birdy. Or you might get in trouble with the unspeakable. Now tell me, will you obey your lord?”

Coronis looked at him, panting with boiling rage. Forcefully, she nodded.

“Words!” He snapped, making her and the lady flinch. “You use your goddamn words!” he sneered.

She took a deep breath and muttered, “Yes, my Lord.” She looked like the words physically pained her. “I will obey.”

A dark smirk flashed on his face. “We will see that. Now take her away and lock her up!” He commanded his men.

The guards tugged her with them after bowing once more. The last thing she saw of the king was him shoving the lady away from his lap as his eyes stayed focused on hers with a dirty smirk dancing across his thin, sinister lips.

…

The slammer was small. It barely had any space to move. One Mashal was burning in the corner of the box. There was no gap in the wall for a skylight. No sign of day or night. No sign of the outside world. No sign of life.

Coronis’ body was aching. She had been sitting here for days as it felt. The only interaction she got other than talking to herself in her mind was when the guards brought food. The food was one stale bread. Sometimes with mold on it. She kept the count of the meals served. If she wasn't wrong, it had been two days since she was brought here.

Her clothes were the same one from that horrid day. She couldn't even use the hole for a toilet at the corner as at least one guard always kept an eye on her. Her insides were hurting but she refused to show them any more of her skin.

Their smirks and scoffs were humiliating her enough.

She missed her home. Her mother's delicious food. Circe's warm hugs. Her father’s quirky remarks. And her brother’s protection.

It felt lonely and depressing. Never did she realise how much she relied on them until now when she was far away from them. All this time she kept whining about them relying on her but she was the one relying on them for sanity.

She wondered what they were doing, whether they were missing her or considered her dead. She didn't even get to properly say goodbye to them.

~~~

Circe clung to Coronis. She was numb, knowing her sister would never come back. She just sat in her lap and took all the comfort she had to give to her.

“I will miss you,” the little girl whispered.

Coronis hugged her tight, “Me too…” she kissed her forehead. “Promise me you won't disobey Mumma and Papa and our brother. Okay? See what happens when you go out? You get in trouble that costs you your life. Don't repeat what I did,” she patted her back for comfort. She wasn't even sure who she was comforting more, herself or her little sister.

Circe nodded and a soft sob escaped her throat. “I won’t.”

“Take care of everyone. Don't let them fall, okay? And you are going to look after yourself, too, for me,” Coronis found it hard to let go of the tiny being in her arms. Nothing could ever prepare her for this.

Her father and brother were away for work. They couldn't even meet her before she left for good. She could only hug their belongings, filled with their scent to her heart and feel them with her eyes closed.

Her mother was a mess. She had fainted when she came to know about the whole deal. She blamed herself for this. The moment she woke up, she prepared Coronis’s favourite food. She wanted her to go with her stomach full. She sat her down and fed with her own hands.

“Coro, we love you, okay? You are loved, my child. Never forget that,” she kept repeating.

Coronis found it hard to look into her eyes but she did, for the last time before they dragged her away from them.

She didn't look back, knowing her mother and sister were not fine. If she had, she wasn't even certain if she could leave them like this. There was no choice but to leave.

The dark beauty left her heart behind in the shack with her family.

~~~

Tears of despair tracked down Coronis’ scratched face. She felt cold. Not the one because of winter but because of the distance between her family.

She had nothing left, except these tight walls of hell. She was ruined, destroyed and left to rot. If one thing she could change, she would have. She would have stayed in her shack that day. She could have kept her head down or gone inside of some seller. Anything but looking into death's eyes.

Silent cries were all she could afford here in this dark place.

Two shadows loomed outside of her space. The guards. She curled in a ball and hid her face from them. She couldn't bear looking at them.

“What do you say? Should we use this fucking thing?” one of them said in a low voice.

“Are you fucking quipping me?! If He finds out, He will skin us alive and drink our blood like a bloodthirsty hound,” the other one screeched.

“How would he know? We won't leak a word to anyone. Just look at that fine flesh. I bet she is nice and tight,” the guard moaned.

Coronis closed her eyes tightly, wishing that it was just a sick nightmare that would end soon in death. The final piece.

“She is His prized possession. I won't take a chance with her…” the second one said. “Maybe just let Him have his merriment and then when he gets what he wants, we can take over.”

They scoffed. But quickly rushed away when the main door to the slammer banged opened. The heavy boots thumped against the concrete floor and stopped right in front of Coronis’ space. She assumed it was one of the guards.

The gate of her slammer opened and the tiny space was consumed by a heavy presence.

There it was, that unique musky scent. Her eyes shot open and looked above her. And there he stood, His Majesty.

His lips curved into a thin smirk, deepening his little dimple. The broad chest was bare for her eyes. She could make all eight pecs on his abdomen very precisely. His long luscious hair was half-tied behind and his shorter loose hair fell on his eyes.

There was a wickedness in his glint. Menace. That's how it came across like. He was hungry and he came down to devour her.

It looked like her time finally came to an end.

“My little birdy has never looked so dirty. We shall change that, shouldn't we?” he cooed.

Coronis shifted and tried to sit up straight, but her body wasn't shifting how she wanted. She ended up limping against the dirty wall.

“I don't like you here, my birdy. I think you belong in an amenity, next to me like my pretty little birdy. Isn't that right… little birdy?” he crouched down, His finger lightly grazing her cheekbone.

She was shivering like a leaf in a storm as she hurried to the far corner, not wanting to have His hands on her. But he was fast to hold her bruised ankle and pull her closer to his sickening warmth. Her pretty little feet were swollen, bloodied, and- and needed care. His care.

His pretty little birdy was in pain, he realized. He told them not to hurt his birdy but here she was, all bruised and wounded. Her pretty little face was scratched, and her eyes were dull and swollen, aching from crying.

What else was she hiding under her dirty white gown?

“My birdy…” he whispered. “My little porcelain doll, they broke you? Poor thing,” he kissed her ankle, making her flinch.

“Y-you can't b-break something that has been turned into ashes long ago,” she sobbed. She hated that she got so weak in front of Him. He was nothing but a fear of destruction. He held authority over her and she hated that she let him.

“Why do you think I brought you here, hm? I shall heal you, my little birdy,” he whispered as his hand caressed her hair. He was gentle with her. Just as he said– his porcelain little doll. “We shall heal together,” he quietly whispered, not letting her know his silent words.

His Majesty looked around in the slammer, he saw how the bread had not been eaten and was rotting near the toilet. He looked pained, his thick eyebrows narrowed together. As if he could feel her pain.

In a sick, twisted way, she felt comforted. His touches were gentle and meant no harm. As much as she was scared, she yearned for this, a bit of warmth.

But her rational mind took over, making her aware of the menaces of this heartless tool. “Please,” she begged.

He cocked his head to the side, “Please what, little birdy? What are you begging for?” He gently held her jaw and made her look into his eyes. “I think I should be the one begging for you to give me yourself,” his thumb played with her trembling bottom lip.

Coronis shook her head vigorously to get his hands off her face, “please let me go,” she begged again. “I won't say a word to anybody. Just let me go back to my family. I want to go back!”

“I am your family!” He snapped. “I didn't bring you here to let you walk out. I brought you here to keep you and nourish you like the doll you are!” the understanding of the situation was out of Coronis’ reach.

She wondered why she was so different in his eyes that he wanted to nourish her. She wondered why she was His little birdy or a porcelain doll that he didn't want to break.

Oblivious of her blinding beauty, she questioned His thinking.

“You belong here, Coronis,” He said, sternly with softness at the edge of His rough voice. “You belong right next to me.”

She shook her head as tears poured out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

“This was your punishment,” He whispered, looking around the dingy slammer. “I hate to keep you here, little birdy… you need to be reminded that my command is your obligation, your duty and that you must fulfill it with all your heart. I think now you won't ever forget that. And if you do…” He shook His head, His expression as if He was scared. “It won’t be a bearable punishment,” the faces of all of his convicts who were punished by his hands. He didn't want to paint a picture of her in that dungeon of slayings. She was too pretty and too precious to be in that picture. His Majesty's heart squeezed thinking about it. He shook his head, “you can not be in there. I won't take you there for your punishment. No no no,” He whispered to himself.

The thought of losing this beauty was far too dreadful to be having.

Coronis looked at the King dealing with his own commotion deep down his hazel eyes. She gasped when he pulled her in his embrace, her cheek against his bare chest. She could hear his heart beating like a storm.

“I can't let that happen,” He whispered. “I can't lose you, too. I will protect you,” He kissed her hair as he kept whispering to himself.

Coronis realized she was not getting out, not alive, not dead.

She couldn't figure out if this was the end or the beginning of her tale.

Perhaps, this was going to be the beginning of an end.

Her fate was sealed with His. She was bound to serve him in this lifetime.

She accepted her fate and melted in His chest. Her tears stopped and her mind numbed. The last thing she heard while she felt faded kisses on her head before, out of strain, she lost consciousness was—

“I'm going to keep you under my wing forever, my little birdy.”

…..

Sanaa's note:

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jksgirlhere @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby @vantelover07 @douknowbts @andioppsworld @xicanacorpse @ttanniett @koohrs @crazy-eight17 @jesshujk @sadxaries @fantasticwarl @catlove83 @iveivory @lippynabiii @igotnojamsz @deadgolgibody

Have nice day/night💓

[thearchercore]

exactly, charles has built a very good entourage. If you notice the people around him are all people he has known since he was a child. His circle has not changed, whether on a professional or personal level. He has an entourage who respects his private life and who takes into account his opinion on the fact of being exposed or not. This always reminds me during the new year, his group of friends was in Portugal, they were posting on the networks but there was no indication that Charles was with them. No photos or videos of him have been posted by them. We knew he was there thanks to a photo from a fan. It was because he didn't want anyone to know where he was and his friends respected that. Then he posted a ridiculous photo out of context to say that he spent the new year in Portugal several days after the new year 🤣. He really controls what flows through him. It's like when he is with his family, during the winter holidays, he disappears during the period when he is with his family (We know that his mother is very discreet) the only photos we have come from Lorenzo. He has a trusted entourage unlike others who even if he likes to be private he is exposed absolutely everywhere while he is supposed to be on vacation, "his in-laws" film him and make him sign things to sell them.

yeah! i mean, people like antoine are fairly new additions to his close circle (i believe he joined charles full time last year?) but still, with andrea and joris as his personal team, you just can tell he's very careful as to who he trusts and who he lets into his inner circle. you can also sometimes notice when he carefully picks what events he attends (for example, bahrain padel games come to my mind - he joined the one where no one was taken pictures of except for one group pic and 144p video of him playing. the day before daniel and lando had a whole photo op session at the same place, and he didn't attend that one.)

he's very calculated, but also very smart (he knows how to disappear EXTREMELY WELL). so usually, when he posts about something (even if it looks like a candid), you know he put a lot of thought behind it

[shewrites444]

fire [coriolanus snow x reader smut]

[Hello! It has been awhile. I wanted to switch it up and try out a fic on young Coriolanus Snow’s character from TBOSAS after hearing about the new Hunger Games movie! Please let me know if you enjoy his character. I also apologize if this story has some imperfections, I did not edit it.]

WC - 4.3k

SUMMARY - The reader is a prestigious pianist and composer for the Capitol. She finds herself in a mental, and physical, battle against her attraction to President Snow throughout his dictatorial rule and loveless marriage as months go on. Attempting to get under his skin through a rather bold encounter, she finds herself back to where she started as he reminds her of their similarities, but she holds more power above him than anticipated. 

WARNINGS - Cheating, angst, cursing, choking, fingering, detailed & unprotected sex. Coriolanus is a bit sexist and also doesn’t know how to shut the hell up, so fair warning on that. 

-

Coriolanus had spent the past few months focused on nothing but his political reputation, and the power he only continued to gain in the Capitol, along with the Districts. Well, it was more of a submission than anything, fear spread through Panem as his reign as President, or as many called him, a dictator, was unveiled. 

He had no focus on his chosen wife, Livia Cardew, knowing that she was solely a prop for visual acceptance, a showcase of a wife that he was able to find someone who supported him through his political career, and the most important time of the year, of course, The Hunger Games.

When the games were approaching, the Capitol organized several socials and meetings throughout the upcoming weeks in order to network Coriolanus with his political and social allies, the game-makers, the Academy students that were interested in working with Dr. Gaul and the rest of her associates, and any other connections that were essential to the duration of a successful season. 

I found it disgusting, and inhumane, just like those in the Districts, but I, just like everyone else who was ranked underneath President Snow, had to find ways to cautiously approach such a season of brutality. 

Serving the Capitol as a pianist and musical coordinator by trade, I found ways to avoid the Districts and remain in a fairly comfortable lifestyle as the years went on. I had been working mainly for Coriolanus’ wife, Livia, for her social events held with other women of the Capitol on weekends, typically. I had assumed Livia told Coriolanus of my talents, and the orchestra I would often accompany, so that’s when he had me perform before a meeting with several of his associates. That’s when it all began.

Was I just ashamed? Yes, but I was more disgusted with myself than anything. That was the best way to put it.

It was shameful, and quite out of character for me to be a mistress, for one, but it was worse to know the same man I often slept with was the reason for so many innocent and unforgiving deaths across Panem. How the hell was I supposed to get out of this entanglement, though? If I left, or even expressed that I was thinking about it, I’d be as good as dead. 

I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, but when the buzz amongst the games began to pick up, I knew he’d be in my vicinity soon enough. Livia had asked me to perform for a social before the Reaping Ceremony, which I obviously obliged to. Something in me felt that she knew of my arrangement with her husband, but something else told me she didn’t even care. She had all the power in the world, and Coriolanus wouldn’t dare harm her; it would forever damage his reputation. She had nothing to lose. She knew I had everything to lose. 

“You were wonderful, as always.” Livia chimed, handing me a glass of wine as I walked onto the marble floor soon after my performance. I returned a gentle smile, sipping lightly from the clear glass before clearing my throat to speak up. I was used to being rather quiet, given my nature as a pianist. I spent most of my time practicing and playing in solitary, so I was not much of a talker, especially now that things had changed over the course of the past few months, but I kept my composure, and I remembered who I was conversing with. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Snow. I find it an honor you allow me to perform for such special occasions.” I say, my eyes scanning the room as I watch men and women of heavy rank socialize throughout the floor, some already dining, some already on their second drink of the night, maybe more.. 

Livia looked me up and down briefly, watching my nervous demeanor unwind. She watched me stand still, glancing around the chattery room, my fingertips lightly tapping my glass. A small smile wrinkled onto her lips. “Well, I will leave you be, Miss [Y/N], I’m sure you are quite tired.” She reached to gently hold my shoulder, sending a cold shudder across my bare skin. “Have a wonderful evening, alright?”

“Yes, of course, you as well, Mrs. Snow.” I watch her walk away, feeling as if I could finally breathe again. 

I felt faint, nerves stemming from Livia’s appearance sending me over the edge, and the usual guilt I felt only more demanding as seconds passed. I set my glass down before walking out the ballroom’s door, which led down a dim hallway stacked with offices, and a bathroom more towards the back. I had been here plenty of times before, so I knew a spot where I could cool off and freshen up for a few moments. 

Opening the bathroom door, I felt a hand press against the wall beside me, to stop me. I glanced up, his pale, slim fingers planted to the side of my head, making my face turn white. I slowly let go of the door, turning to face Coriolanus. He looked down at me, a sly look on his already smug expression, no shame in his blue eyes. It made my stomach turn.

“President Snow.” I said, my eyes averting to each side of the hallway, scanning the wide space to assure that no one was around, before looking back up to meet his gaze. “You startled me. I was just going to freshen up before heading back to the party.”

“Please, spare me the formality, [Y/N].” He grinned, taking his hand off the wall before moving it to my cheek, making my face heat up. “Come with me, hm?”

“Your wife is not even two doors down, Coriolanus.” I drip his name out in a cautious whisper, which he had given me permission for ages ago. He struck me as the type of man who’d prefer a formal reference, maybe even find attraction in it, but I suppose he’d rather something else from me. I didn’t question it. “And the rest of your business partners, might I add.”

Coriolanus laughed, almost mockingly, at my seriousness. “You think she is not aware of you and I, [Y/N]? She is not a fool.” He patted my flushed cheek before he grabbed my hand. “Now come with me.”

I didn’t argue further, just nodding silently before following him down the hallway. I recognized where he was leading me, just from a different direction. The Capitol was like a maze, at least the inside of it, but I had memorized much of it from Coriolanus, and my work. We head to his bedroom, the sound of my heels clicking against the glossed floor while he walked me further.

I hear him close the door, mentally preparing myself for what was to come. It’s not like I didn’t want him, because I did, it was more that I didn’t want the reprimands of being caught, or feeling so dirty for what I was doing. There was an underlying guilt each and every time I slept with him, or even as much as I spoke to him, no matter what the circumstances were. 

As the door locked, Coriolanus turned to walk towards me, before I took a step back, much to his surprise. He raised one of his light eyebrows, a confused, yet intrigued look on his face. I never denied him, and who’s to say that I was? I didn’t even know what I was doing, other than thinking out loud, which only made my blood run colder.

The tension in the room was tight, and could be cut from a string as thin as the threads that held what was under my gown together. I could hear myself breathing, and my thoughts racing to spit out of my shut mouth. My eyes lifted up to his own, and I stood straight, and firmly.

“Out of all the women in the Capitol, out of everyone you could have in the ways you have me, why did you choose to tangle me into your mess?” I ask, rather impressed with my own forwardness. “Why must it be me?”

Coriolanus shared a similar look as my own, but his expression curated itself into some sort of cheeky grin, almost as if he enjoyed my slight rebellion. He knew I didn’t take orders, so he never bothered ordering me around. He didn’t have to ask, he knew I liked it, and he knew I’d comply, and he also knew I felt guilty every time, but I never posed such a question, until now.

He tucked his hands into his slacks, stepping closer, his slim, tall build hovering before me.

“It is you because I find everything I prefer in you.” He answered flatly, following my questions. “My wife has no regard for anything but her own status, which I can admire, but she does not have any reason to achieve anything more. The women who seek to improve their status, say, by sleeping with me or attempting to, seek to achieve more than they ever will. Then there is you, who is firmly placed in between all of these women, who holds prestige, who holds respect, yet, in every way possible, feels that she is less deserving of it because she holds attraction to the one man she cannot have.”

His words frustrated me beyond my usual measure, and I couldn’t contain the pressure pent up in my chest, eagerly awaiting to push through my quivering lips. He angered me, and he made me feel lesser, when this entire time, he was the one who took out his frustrations on me, and he was the one who ran from every ounce of affection he was once offered, and threw it at me. It was always in the back of my head, yet I found myself in a delusion, one where I would never allow myself to see the truth, but it all came to me as he spoke. 

“You are the one who cannot have me. How could I make that anymore clear? After all this time, all these months of you thinking your usage was one-sided, how could you not see it, Coriolanus?” I loosened up my posture, and stepped forward, nearly closing the irritable gap that was between the two of us. “You are the one who finds me after my performances, you are the one who pursues me, time and time again. I comply, yes, but I am not the one who soughts after you.”

He blinked. I could read it as clear as day that he was taken aback by my words. A satisfying feeling burned in me, yet the tension geared towards the uncertainty of our conversation never left. I spoke up, and I was not pretty about it. What would he do now? Surely a pianist disappearing wasn’t common, but I wasn’t Capitol royalty, so it’s not like he couldn’t disregard me if he wanted to. Would he do that? No, I was too valuable to him in more ways than one. How worked up he got over this affair showed me that.

“Seems we both have our issues.” He hummed. Another foot stepped closer to me, the tip of his shoe nearly stepping on mine, but he knew that. He reached forward after pulling his hands out of his pockets, and cupped my cheeks with both of his cold, large hands. His thumbs pressed against my lips, and I could feel my lipstick brush against his fingers. “Yet neither of us have ended the arrangement between us. Why do you think that is?”

“Don’t make me answer that.” I shake my head, reaching my hands up to pull him off of me, and lightly push him away. “I will not engage in such a conversation.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation.” Coriolanus grabbed my wrists, yanking me forward. He leaned down to press his lips against my own, causing me to gasp, and attempt to fight it, but I couldn’t.

He knew I liked it, and he knew how to use it against me. I sunk into the feeling for a brief moment, before I pushed him off me, my hands planted against his dress shirt as I gripped the material, holding him in place while he looked down at me, his once slicked back curls falling forward, a few loose hairs against his forehead as he grinned, my lipstick against his pale lips. He tilted his head, his hands moving to grip my waist rather harshly, just enough to keep me still.

“Do I have to remind you how crucial this arrangement is to you? To make you answer my question, hm?” He held me, walking me closer to the opposite side of the room. Aggressively, he kissed me once more, flipping my body to face his vanity, while still keeping my face turned to his own.

He ran his hands down the side of my gown, bunching it up enough that he could push it underneath my chest to remain upright. “You claim to despise what happens between us so much, and you hate that you are what stands between my marriage, yet you cannot seem to walk out the door. Come on, [Y/N], you and I both know you are a bit afraid to fully defy me, but you don’t even try to, until now. But it’s all talk, you’ll never really break anything off.” He reached between my legs, which nearly trembled at his touch, as his fingers slipped into my underwear. 

“And you’re already wet.” Coriolanus mocked, looking at me in the mirror as he slowly slipped one of his fingers into me. He watched my mouth open, a pleased, and frankly, egotistical grin on his face, knowing he had gotten to that part of me so quickly. “Is this why you have not ended what continues on between us? Because no man can make you cum the way I do? Am I really so vital to you?”

“You are insufferable.” I gasp, closing my eyes as he began to work his fingers into me, the sounds of my pleasure much more relevant in his room than I’d prefer them to be. “There are many things you refuse to admit to me, too.”

“Exactly.” Coriolanus looked between my legs as I stood before him, the pressure in his pants brushing against the back of my gown. “We are two different people, yes, but we both have secrets that we strongly refuse to admit, yet we can read it on each other’s faces. You know I’m right. I see you more than anyone else, and you hate it. You hate that I can see you.”

“Then why do you treat this with such amusement?” I chime back, opening my eyes to glue them to what was occurring before me. I could feel his free hand move to begin sliding my underwear down. “Why do you mock me, when the scenario applies to yourself?”

“Because I have nothing to lose.” He returns, shooting me a glare as he drops my underwear to the floor as they pass my hips. “My wife is aware of my distaste for her, and for much of any affections. The Capitol will never question me because they know their lives, and their families, are at stake. No one will question me, [Y/N]. They have too much to lose.”

I feel him move his hand behind my back, tugging at the zipper that restrained him. He keeps his rhythm, and he keeps his eyes against my figure. He knew he had the upper hand, it would be impossible for me to overturn his rank, and his power, and nearly everything he had that I did not. I was constantly reminded of it, especially like this. 

“Then why entertain the idea of me holding any sort of power over you through our affections? Why bother administering mockery upon me, Coriolanus?” I hiss through clear annoyance, struggling to hide the pleasure that wouldn’t seem to brush away from my core. He wasn’t giving up any sort of competence. 

Coriolanus lightly pulled his fingers from me, grazing them against my inner thighs before turning me around, and holding them to his mouth. He licked his fingertips, causing my stomach to drop at the sight, while a smirk cracked onto his tinted lips. 

“I have never been with a woman who tastes as good as you.” The sound of his tongue swirling against his fingers made me weak, and the way that someone so manipulative, so cruel, was licking a part of me, felt wrong, yet it didn’t. It was a confusing battle with oneself. “You hold that power, if you must know.”

He pulled his fingers away from his lips, wiping his hand against my dress before tugging it out from under my covered chest, standing straight as he began to pull it off me, and I just let him. Fucking hell.

“You think I’d fuck a woman I didn’t hold any sort of value to? You think I would waste my time with mindless affairs filled with women whose sole purpose in life is to please me, and to please their husbands? The only pleasure they gain from me is validation, nothing more.” He moved my dress down my shoulders. “You want me to fuck you, [Y/N]. Not just any man of rank, me. It makes you sick, doesn’t it?”

“You fancy me just as much as you do anything else you do for yourself.” I feel him move my gown above my head, over my long, slicked ponytail. “You do this for yourself, no one else. You like that I feel such a way.”

He shook his head, dropping my dress on the floor beside my underwear. “Power and value are different. If I wanted to have power over a woman, I’d be fucking my wife, not you.”

My eyes widened at his words. What was his angle here? This argument was endless. “Then why do you act like you have so much power over me? You want to talk to me about value, yet you show none of it. You only exert power, and your ego, against me everytime I feel your touch. You fuck me like you own me, like you hold such a rule, yet you claim that I hold some sort of power. You baffle me.” 

He took my hands and moved them to his length, in which I nearly shivered upon touch, reminded of each and every time he came close to me, and how large he felt when he was inside me. I lightly stroked him soon after I spoke, watching his bottom lip slightly fall at my fingers. He began to unbutton his shirt.

“Am I supposed to make this easy for you?” He teased, sliding his shirt off his shoulders, now standing in nothing but his unzipped pair of pants and boxers that rested just above them. “Must all you women figure things out without assistance for once?”

“Oh, god,” I scoff, my eyes rolling off irritable instinct as I continued my actions against his stiffened cock. “You are-”

“Insufferable?” Coriolanus cued, raising his brows, his hands moving to guide me towards his bed, as we mutually climbed onto it. “I don’t imagine my cock is insufferable, at least, given your generous duration of touch.”

I groan, watching him lay as I motion my body on top of his. If I had some sort of power, as he seemed to suspiciously claim I do, surely I could show it? I glance at him, feeling his hands reach below to grab my ass, toying with the loose flesh as his instinct brought me above him. 

I don’t respond, rather slide on top of him in a swift motion, causing the both of us to moan rather loudly, nearly echoing across his lavish suite of a bedroom. I watched his eyes fall to my bare chest, before gliding down to the movement between us, as I began to move my body forward. 

“If you claim that I am of such value to you… and you give into submissions at times, then you’ll allow me to control you… hm?” I speak between heavy breaths, feeling his thick, restless cock bury between my thighs as I create a rhythm above him. 

“Like I said to you before, [Y/N], I’m not supposed to make it easy for you.” His eyes never left our bodies while he guided me down. “You’ll see.”

I lean down, his cock angling itself at a curve as I reach to slide my hands to his shoulders, gently kneading at his flesh before resting both palms against his pale neck, my nails digging into the back of it, sliding into his blonde locks. A grin tugs at my lips while I press them against his own, feeling his tongue slide into my mouth and muffle the moans I made with each stroke. 

I squeeze at his neck, my thumbs pressing against his adam’s apple while I ride his cock. Thrust after thrust, I could feel him twitch, knowing he was growing weaker and weaker as I went on. He liked the dominance, but he’d never admit it. Instead he’d toy with me, attempt to make me feel as if I had to work for his value, when I already had it. I had him, and I had all this time. I had nothing to lose. 

“What if it melts?” I ask vaguely, looking down at him amidst the loose hairs against my face. “What will you do then?”

Coriolanus released his hands from my ass, moving them higher to my chest, his thumbs toying with my hardened nipples as he held me up, but my hands remained on his throat. I could feel it move as he spoke. “What if what melts?” 

“Snow.” I breathe heavily at his stimulating touch, while I begin to pick up my speed between us. “What will you do if the snow melts?”

Coriolanus scoffed, pressing his thumbs down. “It won’t.”

I press down and lean down simultaneously, shaking my head as I laugh, the feeling of my physical position never leaving, only growing as I mocked him further. I knew how it felt now, to toy with the one who peaked your interest so high. No wonder he enjoyed this.

“If I hold such value, such power over you, Coriolanus, it’s bound to melt. Snow cannot be on top if something is to compromise it, hm? Must I remind you of what occurred the last time you allowed someone to hold power over you?”

I couldn’t believe I brought her up. Yes, I knew of Lucy Gray, just as many of us musicians did. I never knew her personally, but I was aware of what lengths Coriolanus went to erase her from existence for his political, social, and mental gain. Is that part of the reason I feared walking away, even if I wanted to? Yes. But I knew he wouldn’t kill me, or send me off. He’d have no one if not. 

“Shut the hell up.” He moved his hands to hold me by my face. “This is different.”

“In some ways, yes.” I feel his hands move my hair behind my ears, his eyes locked against mine. He was angry, but he was allowing me to speak further, so not angry enough. “In other ways, it is quite the same.”

“Damn you, woman. Experiencing quite the power trip, aren’t you? Why don’t you do so after we fuck?” He growled, one of his hands reaching past my face to grab the end of my ponytail, yanking it down to cause my head to rise up, my back arching in the process, gasping as he thrusts upward, sending volts through my stomach. 

Don’t lose control, [Y/N]. Don’t you dare let him fuck you into submission.

“If you think for just a second that this is not changing things for you, then you are a fool.” I spit, opening my eyes to stare down at him, fighting his grip against my ponytail. I feel his other hand move from my face to my jaw, holding my face down to face his own. “You can’t do this without me. You spend far too much time with a mistress to disregard her, and you fucking know it. That’s what makes you sick.”

All he could do was curse under his breath, his grip on my hair, and on my face, loosening. Was he admitting defeat? Was he finally showcasing some sort of disadvantage? 

I leaned down to pull him into a sloppy kiss, my tongue sliding into his mouth as he lightly pressed his own against mine, yet allowing me to hold the dominance. The feeling was strange but enjoyable, knowing that I was able to hold mental and physical assertion over such a man. 

I could feel him grunt underneath me, his body limp as I fucked his restlessly, until I could feel myself tighten against him, and his cock pump into me, lightly thrusting upwards to ride out the high that he pushed into me. I watched his face as I held his neck still, his eyes closed and his mouth agape while he came. His cheeks were flushed. I knew he felt defeated, and I knew in some way, he enjoyed it. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

I slowly got off of him, feeling his cum lightly stick between my thighs while I motioned to lay aside him. My hands were warm from their grip, and I rested one against his cheek, turning him to face me. 

“Do you know what makes snow melt?” He asks through a horse tone, looking up to me. He knew I wouldn’t give him the answer he was looking for, so he watched me silently shake my head. He reached forward to hold my own cheek, pulling me down to his lips, but not for a kiss. He let me hover, before he spoke quietly, his hot breath against me. 

“Fire.”

[otomiyaa]

Ticklish Zayne x Reader

Romantic + 22. “Don’t laugh, I’m trying to talk to you!” Requested by @ticklygiggles for my 1K Followers Event🌻

Inspired by how hard the claw game was where my friend finally won this guy for me.

"You're quite persistent."

You could see Zayne was judging you as you held up another coin and put it in the machine.

"I want it," you said. It was not the kind of date he signed up for, you knew that. It wasn't really planned either. It was coincidence. Fate, actually!

When the two of you passed by a different kind of claw machine than you usually played with, and you saw what was inside, you were already sold.

You really wanted that big crow plushie. So, so bad!

"You are good at these games, so I'm sure you can get it at some point. Besides, stopping now would be a waste of the money that was already invested," you said, placing your hand on Zayne's waist.

With your other hand you pointed at the machine. "I think if you move it a little more to the back, and to the left, and then the next try, to the front, we can take it," you said while Zayne concentrated.

"I will try," he said, giving it another go, and missing.

"Alright, try again. I still have some coins left, and otherwise I'll go exchange my money for some more. I would do it but I'm not as good at it, so I'm afraid I'll... Zayne? Don’t laugh, I’m trying to talk to you!"

Zayne was shaking softly, trying to hide his laughter and failing at it.

"S-s-sorry," he giggled. "It's just, I've never seen you so serious about something before. It's a crow."

You raised your eyebrows. "You're kidding, right? I'm always serious! Besides, you know I love crows. I want this plushie. Hey, why are you still laughing hmm?" you said, using your hand on his waist to squeeze him softly. You felt him react, hehe. Dr. Zayne being so ticklish was a gift from the heavens.

"S-stop! I-if you're beheing like thihis, I cahahan't t-take your pluhuhushie, hehehey!" Zayne tried to keep his hand on the machine, but you were now tickling him with both hands.

"I see why you are calling me serious, it's because you are the opposite. What is it that's so funny, Dr. Zayne? Why are you giggling while I'm being serious?" you teased, still pretending like you had no idea what you were doing to him, and that while your fingers knew very well to find his tickle spots to tickle him there on purpose.

He made a cute little dance and shook his head. "Nohothing- just.. ahah!"

Zayne finally reached for your hands and tried to get you to stop. "Y-you're- ahahah! Nohoho stop thahahat!"

So cute! Your fingers crawled up and clawed at his lower ribs. Zayne jumped and let out the cutest mewl.

"Nohoho-wahh!" Your hands moved up further and brushed at the hidden spots under his arms. Zayne twitched so heavily that it caused him to stumble and...

"Wahh!" You both yelped in surprise when he fell with his shoulder against the claw machine.

To your surprise, the big crow swung from side to side, it swung even more and....

"IT FELL!" Your eyes widened as you reached inside and grabbed it. It was so soft and cuddly!

"Uh oh. Did we cheat?" you asked, looking at Zayne who was still red in the face. He breathed heavily, looked at the crow in your arms and then at you.

"I'm sorry, that didn't hurt did it?" you asked, rubbing the shoulder he bumped against the machine. You saw a playful twinkle in his eyes.

"And what if it does hurt? Will you kiss it better?" he asked. Oh the flirt. You chuckled and grabbed his hand. With your precious crow plushie under one arm, you pulled Zayne along.

"Let's first get out of here before they catch us. Hehe!" Together you ran, and when you looked behind you, Zayne had the most beautiful smile on his face. Looked like he was having fun after all!

[anacdoce]

I Wish Chapter 1 - Under the moonlight

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader, implied sorcerer)

Rating: T

Word count: 2k

Warnings: some angst; hurt; after the events of the game

Summary: Astarion fills his heart with guilt, thinking he is unworthy of your love and is trying to push you away from him.

a/n: This is my first fanfic writing and I'm a bit nervous about it. So please let me hear your thoughts about it.

This chapter functions like a prologue for the rest of the story, because initially it was supposed to be a one shot thing. But then my brain couldn't stop there and I have already some more material written after this.

At last let me make some mentions here: first of all let me thank to @bloodlessdarling who kindly let me use her beautiful photo of Astarion, which inspired me to write all of this chapter. Second, I want to thank to @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate for her kind words, encouraging me to share my writing. And to finish let me thank my husband, who patiently has been dealing with my Astarion obsession for the past few months and for his reading and helping with this fic (english is not my native language and I was never confortable on writing in it).

Astarion sat by the fire, reading, a routine he had maintained for the last few months of your life together. But something is off. You can tell.

For a few days he has been avoiding you. He doesn't seem interested in talking or sharing moments of intimacy with you. Sometimes you catch him glaring at you, but as soon as you exchange eyes with him he just pretends that he is doing something very important that has nothing to do with you. And you started to get worried.

This isn't the first time, though. 

Since you have dealt with the absolute and got free from the tadpoles, you have been on a hunt for a cure for him, to make him able to walk in the sun again.

Gale is helping, researching every tome that he can put his hands on, and you have followed every lead, no matter how small it was. You know that you would do anything for that man. But until now you haven't discovered nothing, and sometimes Astarion gave in to the frustration. And you understood that. You understood when he was not in the mood for joking or talking. You understood when he looked at you with sad eyes and a fragile smile, saying "Don't worry Sweetheart, I will be alright. This will pass..." But in the middle of everything, you were, always, his safe place. Astarion always looked for your lap to recover and regain strength to restart. Never before did he avoid you. So, you are worried.

As you wander through your thoughts you catch him staring at you, with a sad guilty face, and just like the last few times you caught him doing that he just looks away from you.

Enough. 

You want to know what is happening, what is he thinking, why is he acting like this. You can't stand feeling apart from him any longer. Unless... unless that is his wish, to be parted from you.

"Astarion?"

"Yes?" he responded, not lifting his eyes from the book.

"What's wrong, Love?"

He shifts in his chair, uncomfortable. You can feel his tension across the room. His breathing is heavy. "Wrong? Why would you say that?" His voice is low, cold, controlled. 

"Are you avoiding me? You don't talk to me, don't look at me. You haven't touched me for days by now." You tremble. Your heart paces. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

He closes his book. You see him shutting his eyes, his hand gripping his book tightly. His stern face, half illuminated by the fire, and you feel, in that moment, he is preparing to shatter your heart in a million pieces. "Yes. There is something, I should have told you sooner. I think..." A pause. He finally looks at you. His ruby eyes piercing yours strongly. "I think this is not working."

Silence.

You feel numb.

All of your world is collapsing. Your head is spinning. If you were not sitting down you would have fallen. "Why are you saying that? I don't understand." You manage to say.

"You will thank me in the future."

Furious, you lift from the chair "Thank you? Why are you doing this to me? Why are you hurting me like this? I love you so much..."  And I thought you loved me too. 

He lifts his head meeting your broken gaze. “I… Just… Don’t argue, please.” You sense a little tremor in his voice. He clears his throat and continues his sentence. “Accept my decision and that there is nothing you can do about it. You don’t believe in it now, but you will be grateful for this.”

As you hear this words dragging from his mouth, you feel your legs starting to betray you. You lose your strength and fall on your knees, already sobbing. In that moment Astarion, instinctively, gets up from the chair and stretches out his arms, as if to catch you while you fall. But he stops himself half way, leading his hands to the head, grabbing his hair instead, seemingly desperate to maintain control. You can feel him struggling with himself. What is he struggling with? What is he doing? 

That’s when you see, just briefly, the pain in his eyes, that pain you are so familiar with.

"Astarion, do you love me?" Your lips trembling.

"That doesn't matter." He replies, breaking eyes with you, staring at the floor.

"Astarion, look at me." He takes a moment, like he is gaining courage to do it, and when he finally meets your gaze again you can see how destroyed he is. "Do you love me?"

"I…”

“Please, don’t lie to me.”

“I do, deeply... more than anything." He finally answers.

You feel your heart racing, pain in your chest. All you want to do is to embrace him. Feel him in your arms. He loves you still. That's all you need to know. "Why are you pushing me away?"

"You deserve someone better. Someone that can give you a real life." 

"Please don't say that. You are everything to me, I would do anything for you!"

"I know! That is the reason! That is the problem!” He shouts in anguish. “That is why I'm doing this. I don't want you to pass the rest of your life pursuing something that doesn’t exist! Carrying a burden that is not yours to bear!”

“What are you talking about? What burden? I’m so happy with you, our life together is perfect! I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Is it? Perfect? How can you say that? I am a bloody vampire and we live in the darkness, hoping that one day I may find my cure! I lost count of the trips we took to look for some vague clues, founded in ancient tomes or whispered by dubious people, just to find nothing!”

“Yet.” You interrupt.

“Yes. Yet! But I fear that day may never come… and I can’t stand to look at your disappointed face every time we reach another dead end. It breaks my heart… it’s unbearable.” He sighs deeply. “I see the hope fading in your eyes every time, the hope of living in the light again, seeing the sun! All because of me. ” 

“Oh my sweetheart, is that really what you think?” His suffering was real. Here he is, again, thinking of him undeserving of your love, of your caring. If only you could give him your heart for him to guard it, for him to understand that none of that matters.

“I don’t think, I know. Who would want to live in the darkness forever? I wouldn’t! But I have to. You don’t. This is my burden! I don’t have an option. But you have. I can’t drag you to this life any longer. You deserve better.” 

He was an empty soul after this. This must have been consuming him for days, keeping his mind full of doubts, making him feel selfish and unfair. 

But he couldn’t be more wrong…

You get up from the ground and walk to him, resting your hand on his face, making him close his eyes at your touch. Your warm hand, in his cold skin.

You wait until he is ready to look at you again. You give him a soft smile, full of tenderness and understanding.

“I’m so sorry, my love, if I made you feel that way, but I think you misunderstood my feelings deeply. I know that you are a master of perception, but I think you failed that check, though. Miserably.” you giggled.

“Oh stop it… I’m serious.” Astarion said, rolling his eyes. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Now, seriously, If I ever seemed disappointed it was not for me. It was for you, because I know how deeply you want to see the sun again, to live in the daylight! I just want you to be happy! Fulfilled! And if I am the one who can help you achieve that, I will gladly do anything, for the rest of my life, to give you that gift… as long as you want to pursue this, I want it too.” You pause. Looking for his hands, you hold them, caressing them softly with your fingers, feeling his hands holding yours firmly. “And I don’t want better. I don’t need better. There is no better! I want you! I want you, Astarion.” You kiss his hands, gently, taking your time. “As for the rest… I don’t care if we live our lives in the darkness of the night. I like it that way to be honest. As long as I can be by your side it doesn’t matter, really.”

“You are too kind my dear…” 

“It’s not kindness, it’s the truth. Let me show you something. Come!” Still holding one of his hands you lead him outside, to the open field in front of your cottage, illuminated by the full moon light. As you reach outside you present him the sky, lifting your arms to it.

Astarion frowned his eyebrows looking at you suspiciously. “So, you wanted to show me the moon, my darling?”

“Yes. The stars, and the moon, yes.” 

“Just perfect, Love… thematic, if nothing else.” He grumps in a bad mood. You want to laugh, but you control yourself. He looks so adorable when he gets mad at you.

“I’m going to tell you something that I never told you before. Do you know that I love how your hair glows with the moonlight?” As you say this you intertwine your fingers in his soft hair, brushing his silver curls. “And your skin? You don’t seem to realize how beautiful you are under the night lights, you are like a star yourself.” You gently stroke his long, pointy ear with your fingers, admiring him in all his fragility and beauty. “So please don’t tell me this is a burden. I choose you. And if not seeing the sun again is the price to be paid, be it. I will live with you in the dark of the night, forever, because I don’t need any other light than yours… you are my light, Astarion.”

His forehead meets yours, and his eyes are wet with small tears. His hands on your small back, closing your body to his. You feel him breathing deeply, absorbing you. There is no safer place than in his arms. You have everything you need, right there. “You silly girl. Why didn’t you say none of that before?”

“Oh… I don’t know, I never thought you would like to hear it, really, knowing that you want to see the sun so badly again. I only wish you could see yourself like I see you, how perfect you are with your imperfections.”

“But you see, I’m starting to get there. To know myself through your eyes. Some days are harder than others, with all of the memories of my past pursuing me… Sometimes it is difficult for me to leave all of my bitterness and resentment behind. But some days, some days I know I am much more than that. And you helped me achieve that. I am forever grateful to you. For everything that you have given me, and still do.” He lifts your chin to reach your lips with his, giving you a softness and tender kiss. “I am sorry… forgive me.” He whispered, still touching your lips.

You cup his face with your hands, feeling nothing more than love for this man. You never loved anyone like you love him. And you never will.

“There is nothing to forgive. Just promise me that you will talk to me if you are ever haunted by those kinds of thoughts again.”

“I will do my best, my dear.” He embraces you again placing his face in the crook of your neck, as you rest yours in his chest. “I never wanted to lose you, you know? Just the thought of it makes me sick… Thank you for always being by my side. I love you so much!”

“And I love you too, more than anything!” You feel his embrace tightens around you.

“Will you stay with me? Will you be mine even if that means never seeing the sun again?”

“I will. And I am yours until the day that my heart stops beating.”

[fleurdelait]

have you ever drawn a butterfly follower?

ANON THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT HIM!!!!

So… i’ve decided to make it a theme in my au of each bishop having a corresponding ‘close follower’ that passed before the events of the game. These followers (such as Panacea and Ealasaid) can be revived as part of the bishop’s follower quests, by finding the relics seen in purgatory and then by RNG spawning into their boss room. After defeating the wayward soul, congrats! you’ve adopted a silly billy into ur cult!

But yeah Panacea specifically was Kallamar’s personal doctor and interpreter as he was hard of hearing even before Narinder sliced his ears off!! They were close, very friendly, their relationship stood out as Panacea never actually joined Kallamar’s… expansive harem of lovers. They passed from an illness to fit with the theme of dying from the bishop’s ‘power’ if u get what i mean (Ealasaid - war , Panacea - sickness).

Though as their ref says, after being indoctrinated, Panacea was much more docile and welcoming to the idea than Ealasaid, the two actually became friends after a while of noticing they had a similar sense of humor. He even, after a good long while (a month) joined Kallamar’s many spouses, the happiest he’s been in centuries.

[blakeandaffairs]

The Big Bad Lore Discussion: JESUS

Justttt gonna step over the landmine that is the current situation of this tag, as today I'd like to discuss an important lore point in the game:

JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF.

I made a short little post asking about it, but the more I really thought about it, the more I realize how deep the rabbit hole goes. Jesus' existence itself is already an enigma, but it's even moreso in whb???

Let's discuss, and for context, was forced to take Salvation History and Creed in college, hold on tight, this is gonna be a yap session

The Plotholes

Several issues immediately arise because of the fact that...well, God disappeared shortly after Solomon.

Why is this a problem? Because Solomon is approximately 900 years before Christ, now I know the timeline is all screwed up as well in whb, but if I'm assuming the bible canon, then, none of the things past Solomon had happened, including the birth of Jesus.

This conflicts with the fact that Minhyeok briefly mentions his neighbor, who is a Christian, and the fact that Christmas exists. Meaning some form of Jesus DOES exist, but just in the written scripture.

Why is that?? Well I have several theories:

1. Jesus already exists

Not LITERALLY. Without God there then how was the miraculous conception was supposed to happen, but since Jesus is considered the Word of God, and the Word of God has existed ever since the creation of the world ("On the First day, God SAID let there be light"), and with those first words uttered, Jesus was made manifest in it. He just isn't able to manifest physically due to a lack of God.

2. Jesus is some form of copesona or propaganda of the angels

We know that, at least according to Ppyong, that the scriptures are apparently propaganda made by the angels to make devils look bad, if that's so, to what extent? I'll assume it's somewhat minimal, they just want to make the devils look bad, because in general, Solomon is painted in a pretty good light, which is uncharacteristic of them. But how do they come up with someone like Jesus? It seems strange of them

The answer: Gabriel

Since Gabriel is the one that announces the birth of Jesus, it's likely he knows that Jesus already existed, and was expected to be born, but with God's disappearance, Gabriel, the unhinged, likely more unhinged, probably started making up stories about the Son of God that was never to be.

3. Jesus the person, existed, but he was just an ordinary mortal

We already believe the Jesus Christ, or more specifically, Yehosua Messiah (original Hebrew name) existed historically, it's likely this is the case as well. He was probably mythologized with the inception of the new testament, it's not the first time this has happened (Gilgamesh the king became the legend he is with the Epic of Gilgamesh)

Why Jesus likely doesn't exist

1. Usually, people are normally referred to as Son/Daughters of God, but in Lucifer's selfie story, he doesn't call us that (calls us Son of Adam/Daughter of Eve), meaning the original sin that those two committed have not been cleansed. (Jesus' death would have cleansed everyone of it)

2. In the Gamigin Event, Lucifer is said to be second only to God, which is odd, that's Jesus' spot. ("he is seated at the Right Hand of the Father, he will come again to judge the living and the dead")

3. It's a bit iffy, but the Christmas Event was also termed 'X-mas', which usually excludes the celebration of the birth of Jesus.

4. Since Jesus is the Son of God, he would have inherited the throne of God as well, and it's likely he would stop the ongoing genocide of the devils

IN CONCLUSION:

It's likely that Jesus was something meant to exist, but with the disappearance of God, that never truly happened.

But these are my thoughts. If y'all managed to make it this far, then I thank you for listening. If this gets enough views, I'll probably make more (such as the Solomon and Lilith conundrum)

[hlkproductions]

I realized I've never actually posted them anywhere other than Patreon so here! Ivy's foster family: The Higurashi Household! Katsuya - a former SDF member who chose retirement as his reward for eliminating a notorious demon at large at the time in order to live out the rest of his life as close to ordinary as he possibly could. after meeting his wife and having his daughter, he received a call from the man he had once trained up in the unit, requesting him to take in his younger, troubled cousin and her mysterious affliction that attracts monsters to her. his favorite food is his wife's specialty kashi pan & he enjoys driving in the autumn most Tohru - a local to the area that Katsuya met a few years before his retirement, she has no true knowledge of the supernatural, thinking of spirits as good or bad omens rather than their reality that her husband has faced. she's what most may consider to be an "airy" personality, believing that a positive attitude attributes to a long and healthy life. she cares deeply for those around her and encourages the young ones in the house to be active. her favorite color is finch yellow & bakes to relieve stress Tomoe - a spunky young girl who prides herself at meeting challenges head-on and sees quitting as inexcusable. while at first she didn't know what to make of the anxious foreigner in her home, she quickly warms to her new foster sister and invites her to many of her soccer games as her way of helping her adjust to Japanese social events. upon learning the truth about demons, ghosts, and that her sister's friend is something called a "spirit detective" she takes it upon herself to go sniffing out problems of her own to solve. while she doesn't know it, she inherits her father's exceptional spiritual awareness and capability to apply it to combat. her favorite animal is the dwarf flying squirrel & she has memorized every line of dialog in the Martialist Beauty's True Heart movie franchise.

bonus older!tomoe & katsuya at the Dark Tournament!

[captainsophiestark]

Guest Appearance

Dick Grayson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: DC

Summary: As a PA on a nightly talk show with all kinds of celebrity guests, the job always comes with some level of unexpected chaos. But when Dick Grayson's interview is interrupted by a New York supervillain, the events of the night might reach a whole new level of wild adventure

Word Count: 2,967

Category: Fluff, Humor, maybe a little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Can you believe he's really here?"

"No. How is it possible that he's somehow hotter in person?"

I stifled a laugh behind my hand and turned to look at my coworker, Tara, who had an absolutely shameless grin on her face. I shook my head, but I couldn't stop a similar smile from spreading across my own face, too.

We'd become work besties since we got hired and added to the crew of the same talk show together at the same time. We'd worked with a laundry list of truly incredible guests (and some truly terrible ones), but today was officially the record best for the both of us.

Richard Grayson, the famous, charming philanthropist and eldest son of Bruce Wayne was our guest for today's show. My job was making sure talent knew where to go and that they got there on time, so even better, I'd actually been able to interact with him a bit.

"Was he nice?" asked Tara, keeping her voice low as we watched our host go through the interview as planned. "Please tell me he was nice. I don't think I could handle it if he was an asshole."

"Oh, Tara, he was so sweet. You should've seen the smile he gave me when we were introduced. And he remembered my name, he said thank you specifically to me when I got him to the stage earlier!"

Tara sighed. "I'm in love."

"Honestly? Same."

The two of us fell into comfortable silence as we returned our attention to the shoot before us. The host was asking about some charity work Dick Grayson and his dad had gotten behind recently, and every time the host tried to give him accolades, Dick deflected and turned all the attention back to the volunteers and the people they were trying to help.

I was quite literally melting. Next to me, Tara seemed to be having the same reaction.

"I wish he could come on every week," she muttered, shaking her head. "They're about to wrap this part though, I need to get in position to set up for the game they're gonna play. Continue this after the show?"

"You're on."

She shot me a wink, then headed over to where all the props were resting for the game our host was going to play with Grayson. I turned my attention back to the interview, then frowned. Something weird was going on with the backdrop of the set. The color was changing to an icier white, as if frost was spreading across it. I squinted, trying to get a closer look, when everything around me exploded.

Cold wind swept through the studio as the lights went out. Members of the audience screamed, and I whirled around a moment later to see exactly why. Killer Frost, one of the supervillains who sometimes operated here in New York, was at the top of the audience seats, sending ice and freezing wind through the entire studio.

I shook my head, taking a few steps backwards before I thought better of it. I turned to the main stage where our host, guest, and a few others had been, searching for anybody I could help out of here, only to find it empty. A moment later Tara rushed up to me, a panicked look in her eye.

"Tara! You have to get out of here!" I said, trying to be heard over the increasing commotion as Killer Frost slowly but surely made her way down the stairs and towards the main stage, moving as if she had all the time in the world. "Get anybody you can to follow you, go down the stairs and get the hell out of here as fast as you can! And call somebody for help on your way out!"

Tara nodded, her grip on my forearm still like iron.

"Are you coming with me?"

I glanced over her shoulder at Killer Frost with a grimace, then turned back to Tara and shook my head.

"I want to see if I can help anybody else get out of here, especially Grayson. Talent's supposed to be my responsibility, and it seems like she's probably after him for a ransom or something. Since he's not familiar with the studio, I don't want him getting lost or stuck somewhere if there's something I can do to help."

Tara shook her head, but I started pushing her towards the exit and moving in the opposite direction before she could stop me.

"Go! I'll meet you outside!"

With that, I turned on my heel and ran.

Thankfully, I'd gotten to know this place well enough in the time since I'd started working here that I was able to navigate quickly through the back hallways. Everything back here was deserted now, which hopefully meant that everyone else had already gotten out. I threw open every door I passed anyway, looking for stragglers trying to hide that I might be able to send out the back stairs instead, getting them further out of harm's way.

The temperature in the hallway dropped with every extra second I spent here, and I knew I was running out of time, but I was determined to finish checking this space. Every room so far had been empty, but the last door at the end of the hall was our guest dressing room. Once I cleared it, I could get the hell out of here myself. With one quick glance over my shoulder to make sure Killer Frost hadn't reached this place yet, I threw open the last door on my list.

I froze in the doorway, but not because of a supervillain. Basically the opposite, actually. Before me, in the middle of the room, was Dick Grayson. He was shirtless, but more notably, he was halfway into the very recognizable superhero costume of Nightwing.

We locked eyes, just staring at each other for a few long moments while my brain tried to compute what I was seeing. I blinked, thinking this had to be a prank or an illusion or something, but then the temperature dropped another few degrees and Dick Grayson—Nightwing—started moving.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked as he quickly pulled on the top half of his suit. I just shook my head, trying to get my brain engaged again.

"I... I was checking if anybody was still here, I wanted to make sure you got out the back stairs since Killer Frost is probably here for you... are you seriously Nightwing?"

Dick grimaced as he slipped on a domino mask, giving me all the confirmation I needed.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anybody. But right now, you need to get out of here."

"Right. Right, yeah, you're right."

Dick nodded, crossing the room to gently take my arm and lead me out of it. I turned to the door at the end of the hallway that would lead to the stairs and out of the building, but before I could take so much as a step towards it, a blast of ice exploded against the wall, sealing the door completely shut.

I heard Dick swear under his breath as he yanked me back against his chest, moving me out of harm's way just in time.

"Get in the dressing room and keep your head down," he muttered to me before gently pushing me in that direction. I paused in the doorway to watch as he slowly turned to face Killer Frost, who'd finally caught up to us.

Nightwing shot me a wink and a confident smile before stepping forward, past where I could see his face. I knew I needed to take cover; I couldn't do much against Killer Frost, and neither could Nightwing if he was worried about protecting me. But before I shut the door, I figured there was one last thing I could do to try to help him.

"Dick, take cover back there," I said, faking pushing someone just beyond sight of the doorway from the hallway. "Nightwing's here, he's going to take care of it. It's going to be okay."

I wasn't sure if that would convince Killer Frost, or if Nightwing's secret identity was even something I should be concerned about right now, but I figured it at least couldn't hurt to try to help him out. I chanced one last glance behind me, but couldn't see more than a blinding flash of light as the two supers collided and I shut the door.

I took a deep breath, trying to gather myself. It still didn't seem completely real—it felt like a mistake. Richard Grayson, the famous son of Bruce Wayne, was one of the last people I'd expect to be a vigilante. Yet the proof was pretty irrefutable.

I crossed the room, shakily easing down into the nearest chair. Hopefully Dick, or Nightwing, or whoever the hell he was would be able to beat Killer Frost. If he wasn't, this room would surely be her next stop, and she'd probably be pretty disappointed to just find me, without the billionaire's son she'd been looking for.

The clashing and shouting sounds of fighting continued outside, setting my nerves on edge with every second that passed. Finally, they came to a stop, and that was honestly worse. I perched on the edge of my seat, ready to jump up at a moment's notice, and watched the door like a hawk. I shot halfway to the ceiling when it came flying open, then collapsed back onto the couch when I saw it was just Nightwing.

"You scared the hell out of me," I breathed, putting a hand to my chest. He shot me a grin as he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Sorry about that. I don't have a lot of time to spare, here."

"You... won, right? You beat Killer Frost?"

He nodded before ducking behind a rack of clothes to one side of the room. I could still see his face as he slipped off the domino mask, revealing the kind but non-super guest of the show that I'd met earlier today.

"She's unconscious, and I made sure she was subdued for whichever authorities get here first. But I couldn't stay out there to wait for them, since it might make my identity a little obvious. Especially when they checked this room and found you alone in here."

I huffed a laugh. "Yeah, people might have a few questions about that, my boss included."

He shot me a smile that made me melt, then stepped out from behind the rack of clothes a moment later, his nice suit for the talk show looking as good as when he'd first come in this morning. I frowned.

"What?" he asked. I shook my head, gesturing to his overall appearance.

"You look too put together. You were almost kidnapped by Killer Frost, you got shoved into this room by a vigilante and me... I don't know, I think you're supposed to look a little more rumpled."

He laughed. "You know, that's a good point. Hold on."

He ran his hands through his hair a few times to mess it up, then ripped at his nice white button up shirt until it looked sufficiently messy. Once he'd finished, he turned back to me with a smile, arms out to his sides.

"How's this?"

I smiled. "So good you might need to start worrying about the threat our hair and wardrobe people might pose to your safety when they see you instead of Killer Frost."

"I'll take it," he said, still beaming. A moment later though, the smile melted off his face and he took a step towards me. "Look... I appreciate your help covering my identity with Killer Frost... can I trust you to keep doing that? Nobody knows this secret."

I stared at Dick, one of the nicest guests we'd ever had on this show and apparently secretly the superhero Nightwing, as he came to a stop just a few inches from me. His wide, sparkling blue eyes and messy black hair made my heart melt and race all at the same time. I still didn't really know him, although I now knew something pretty major about him, but nevertheless, I couldn't help feeling that my sense about him—that he was a good, kind person—was right on.

I took a deep breath to give him an answer when the door to the room came flying open. On instinct, I shoved Dick backwards and behind the couch, and stepped forward. My producer, the show's host, and someone I assumed was a detective here for Killer Frost stared back at me.

"What happened?" I demanded, trying to look scared and wary as I shifted slightly backwards towards Dick. "Where is... is she gone?"

Everyone in the room relaxed a little at my question, the detective nodding as Dick stepped up to stand next to me.

"Killer Frost has been neutralized," she said. "What happened to the two of you?"

I glanced at Dick, still making a show of being rattled, and he did the same. I took a deep breath and turned back to the trio before us.

"I ran down here to try to make sure everyone got out, but Killer Frost showed up before Dick and I could make a run for it. She would've..." I paused, letting my gaze go a little unfocused as I swallowed hard, doing my best to sell the fear of the experience, which really wasn't all that hard. "I think we would've been in some serious trouble, but Nightwing showed up in the nick of time. He told us to wait in here while he took care of Killer Frost. Is he... is he okay?"

The three people before us shared a look, before the detective's eyes slid over me and Dick standing beside me. I very intentionally didn't look at him, instead focusing on keeping my eyes wide and worried. After a moment, the detective sighed and shrugged.

"He's not here and Killer Frost is subdued on the floor, so I'd say it's safe to assume he's fine," she said. I sighed, letting my shoulders relax and leaning slightly into Dick. He slumped a little too, putting a hand on my shoulder, like the both of us were incredibly relieved. We sat down on the couch together while the detective made sure we were both alright, and then my producer and the show's host checked in as well. They'd obviously decided not to finish filming today, and Dick was kind enough and thankfully in town long enough that we were able to schedule an alternate filming day.

Once we'd finished going through plans and questions and being checked on, we were told to head outside and go home. Dick and I didn't say much to each other throughout the process, until we stepped outside the building together, the sun shining down on the both of us. I took a deep breath then turned to Dick, only to find him already watching me with a smile.

"Thanks for that," he said. I returned his smile.

"Thanks for saving the day," I replied. "And I know it wasn't really your choice to share... you know... with me, but I promise your secret's safe."

Dick met my eyes, the smile off his face and replaced by a much more serious expression. He took a breath, then slolwy nodded.

"I believe you. Thank you."

The corner of my mouth quirked up, and we just stayed there for a moment together, letting the new reality wash over us. Even though we'd only met today, and neither of us knew the other well, things felt different, and closer, than they had before, now that we'd shared such a wild experience today.

"So... I know tonight, you probably just want to go home and get some breathing room from everything," Dick started, his eyes drifting to the city around us as he spoke. I watched him carefully, one eyebrow raised. "But I was thinking... after I come back for our replacement shoot, maybe I could take you out to dinner once we're done? I at least owe you a drink for everything we just went through together."

I laughed. "You owe me a drink? I'm pretty sure Nightwing is the only reason I'm not a frozen popsicle in that studio right now."

Dick smiled, and I couldn't help mirroring his expression as my heart pounded in my chest.

"But... I'd love to take you up on dinner," I continued, ignoring the rush of blood and nerves in my ears. "As long as you know the first round of drinks is on me."

Dick absolutely beamed back at me.

"Deal. Here, let me get your number and we can coordinate the best place for dinner and drinks."

"Perfect," I said, somehow keeping my hand from shaking as I held out my phone to him and took his in return. We exchanged numbers, then shared another smile as we handed back each other's phones. "Well... I guess I'll see you soon, then?"

"Can't wait." He flashed a grin that made me melt, then took a step closer to me and lowered his voice. "And thanks again for all your help today. I really, really appreciate it."

I nodded. "Likewise. Happy I could help."

He shot me a wink and another smile, then backed away, heading down the street and away from the building that housed our studio. He waved over his head at me as he went.

"See you soon!" he called. I grinned and waved after him.

"See you soon!"

I watched him go until he turned a corner, then finally started making my own way home. I didn't expect to end the day with a date scheduled with Dick (no matter how many times Tara and I had joked about it), but I was certainly happy with the unexpected outcome, despite what it took to get here.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

[yanderes-galore]

can you do a yandere giorno giovanna concept if you don't mind?

I love Giorno so yes. This takes place maybe a few years after Part 5 where he's been the boss for a while.

Yandere! Giorno Giovanna Concept

Pairing: Platonic -> Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Stalking, Violence, Blood, Murder, Possessive behavior, Implied kidnapping, Condescending behavior, Delusional behavior, Isolation, Emotional manipulation, Implied attempted mind break, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Giorno could've met you as an adult or maybe even knew you during the events of Part 5.

However, his obsession wouldn't start until after Part 5's events either way.

Giorno, by this point, has already grown into his role of being The Boss of Passione.

With Diavolo gone he's managed to make the streets a little cleaner of drugs.

Giorno's character is described as "your friendly neighborhood gangster".

He wants to help people, even if his role is intimidating.

He and Diavolo are complete opposites in everything, including how they act as Boss.

Giorno is often serious and calm.

Since a young age he's been taught to read people and often puts on masks around people.

He's charismatic and often gets along with people, even as The Boss.

My favorite idea for a yandere Giorno plot is the idea of befriending the mafia boss in some way, only for him to fall for you.

Giorno is a good ally to have, especially when he has power.

Unlike Diavolo he actually cares about you, often checking in once he's befriended you.

I like to think he was inspired by Bruno Bucciarati befriending those around him.

So, once he took over, he wanted others to know he's here to aid them.

Including you.

Maybe you need help from him for something.

A debt, you're a target for something, any sort of problem that would get you involved with the mafia.

Giorno, having a kind heart, offers you such aid.

Maybe he even sends Mista as a bodyguard just in case there is any danger after you.

Giorno is a yandere who's calm and tranquil, not much sets him off.

Even if something did he doesn't show it.

He's really good at hiding how he feels... yet reading how others feel.

You can't hide anything from Giorno.

He seems like he'd often invite you to private chats, considering you a friend.

Plus, he likes to keep an eye on you.

If something was bothering you, like a new controlling partner or some other issue, Giorno can tell.

You can't lie in front of him.

Giorno is adamant on letting you know he cares.

He doesn't want any harm coming to you.

As a Don, he can make that happen.

At first, having Giorno as a friend isn't too bad.

His words often bring you comfort and your presence brings him comfort.

Being involved in the mafia can be a dangerous game, yet Giorno tells you not to worry too much about it.

I feel Giorno could be really subtle about his obsession.

Even if he begins to feel romantic feelings, he waits until you're ready... usually.

Although, he'd influence your mind with his words and gifts.

Giorno has traits from Jonathan and DIO, one of my favorite aspects of his character.

Giorno often echoes aspects from Jonathan when it comes to you.

He lives for your happiness and would do anything to protect you.

He echoes DIO when he feels he has to get rid of those around you.

If Giorno found out someone hurt you, he's cruel.

They'd be gone immediately, be that by Mista or Giorno himself.

He'll make it graphic but hide the whole scene from you.

Then he carefully cleans the blood off himself before returning to you with a smile.

Giorno doesn't want to be a monster in your eyes... despite his heritage.

He's always comforting and welcoming.

He lets you into his home and base of operations willingly... just to see your face.

He just likes knowing you're okay.

Once he has you trust enough, Giorno would start trying to nudge you in the direction of letting him treat you.

He keeps a close eye on you so much he's found himself falling for you.

He's gone many nights thinking about you, worrying about if you're okay or not.

Being friends with him is both beneficial yet dangerous.

He can protect you... but what about when he's not there?

I can see Giorno sending other members to watch over you if he can't do it himself.

You've caught his eye and the last thing he needs is you getting hurt.

Giorno is definitely one to spoil his beloved.

He has the money and he wants to spend it on buying you things.

It doesn't matter if you aren't dating yet, he's adamant on giving you the prettiest items.

Giorno probably gets jealous but has learned to hide it.

Oh... you found someone to date...

They get caught up in a shootout, one of Giorno's ways to get rid of them while also driving you into his arms.

He seems so nice and kind.

But he's also manipulative.

He knows how to get what he wants, hiding it just enough to make you not suspect anything.

Why wouldn't you want to date him?

He is patient, waiting for you as long as he has to.

Although, the moment he wins you over, he smothers you.

Gifts, affection, anything you could ever ask for...

As long as you never leave his sight.

He can protect you, love you, sacrifice anything for you...

Yet you're locked away in a private shared home.

Giorno never likes to show you his more ruthless behavior.

He tells you he keeps you in your shared home because he loves you.

Dealing with gangs can be dangerous and while he can patch wounds... he can't resurrect the dead.

Giorno is paranoid behind his calm facade.

He may even be delusional when you have your inevitable fights.

You'll learn he's doing this for your own good, won't you?

He's primarily protective, like Jonathan.

Yet when he holds or kisses you, possessive behavior like DIO shows itself.

Giorno wants to be patient, however he also likes to know you're his.

He's not quite as bad as DIO, but isn't as harmless as Jonathan.

He isn't fully like them, either, he's his own character.

He's addicted to your warmth and voice, clinging to you whenever you're near.

This behavior is most likely due to his childhood and the events of Part 5.

He hates being lonely... He hates losing those close to him....

As a result, Giorno becomes what he is now.

Under his stoic facade, he's scared.

He's scared to lose you...

So locking you away with him feels like the best way to soothe himself.

While Giorno is often kind and patient with you.

Although if you don't listen to him, I imagine he gets irritated.

He is shown to hate repeating himself.

So I can see him losing his patience if you ignore his advice, orders, or rules... Giorno would feel he'd have to discipline you.

Giorno would never hurt you physically... he seems like he'd go for messing with you mentally.

For example, locking you in your room if you're fighting with him.

It starts with just hours, but soon it may escalate to days... weeks.

He feeds you but withholds affection.

His punishments aim to break you down, to drive you back into his arms.

Giorno wants you to need him... to rely on him...

Once you realize that, then he's won, and he has you all to himself.

"I do everything to protect you, my love...."

[snowsirenarts]

so i watched yoruru's bug animation for frederick and have since realized that the other mafuyu comms are very him as well. for those who don't know proseka, bear in mind that this is extremely concerning. (source: i resonate too closely with jackpot sad girl)

jackpot sad girl (syudou) - this is the second comm in the game right after stella by jin and. it's very clear the dissatisfaction in the writing, the sense that the wish to stop hiding is in so many lines, and the outburst towards a mentor figure in the bridge also feels like his tense relationship with his family. (i feel like frederick could also fit bakushou, with the discussion and spite towards certain critics who don't bother to do anything but jeer.)

saisei/reborn (picon) - this song is in a focus event where mafuyu thinks of times with her mother and how there were moments of care, as she's experiencing sickness and kanade watches over her. for frederick significance, the talk of wondering what could happen if he started over and going back could mean thinking of being treated as a talented composer, and not something different to be abhorred, not someone who didn't fit his family and had to be removed.

bug (kairiki bear) - this song is of someone at their limit, doomed to fail in their own words. and with how frederick's treated, and how he's written, i can see him minutes away from snapping. and the line "your affection is just off the mark - i hate it so" feels reminiscent of how he's only maintaining his living status because people see his physical appearance rather than paying attention to any part of him he wants others to see (or more importantly to him, hear).

engeki/theater (nanou) - another that leans heavily into talk of facades and metaphors of being pressured to play one's part (a pressure so many face). with the begging for this farce of a show to end, before ending it themself. this happens with mafuyu finally starting to get the courage to speak against her mother, and it happens with frederick choosing to exist as himself despite knowing his main audience, an audience that doesn't even listen to him, would never approve.

[runomye]

Finally drew the rest of my wizard101 ocs after , what? a year and a half.

Meet the Solar Surges! A group primarily focused on activities like Beastmoon and tournaments. That's why their 'team name' is based on a pvp spell(that no longer exists) This is also Nora's friend group from before the events of the game.

From right to left:

Ryan Lorelock (Myth He/Him)

Sabrina Skyblade (Fire She/Her)

Sloan Emeraldeyes (Life He/Her)

[try-set-me-on-fire]

wip game: should we talk about the weather 👀

Hehehehehehe big bang fic!!! Hmm I’ll share the pitch I gave to the event artists (hehehe…)

In a world where certain individuals are capable of sharing their own instincts and feelings — and even occasionally physical strength — with their likewise capable partners, Eddie and Buck, and Hen and Chim are what people sometimes call congeneric minds. It comes in handy in a high stakes profession like firefighting to have two people in such synchronization, able to warn each other of danger without ever having to waste time opening their mouths to speak.

Being so in sync with someone doesn’t necessarily mean smooth sailing communication however. Recently back at work after taking time off post-shooting, Eddie worries about Buck and how he’s been dealing with the events of the last year (last several years, really) but doesn’t know how to bring it up when he himself has always kind of encouraged them to move past life changing events with little discussion. While Hen and Chim are getting along just fine, Chimney and Maddie are dancing around each other and their recent breakup, and Hen feels trapped between disappointing her mother or her wife while being roped into backyard wedding planning.

With danger ever present on the job and turmoil seemingly always bubbling outside it, will everyone find the right words before it’s too late?

AKA what if people could be drift compatible in regular life without giant robots, and they’re all disasters at communicating anyway

And here’s a snippet!

Eddie doesn’t get around to talking to Buck till a week later. They’re in Eddie’s house again, but Buck has started to look exhausted everywhere, all the time, nothing special anymore about the way his eyelids droop when he walks in through this specific door. It’s worse than usual today. They had a hell of a long call — a rockslide down on the PCH, outside of their usual range but it was bad enough that the responding station had called for any back up they could possibly get — and Eddie’s wrist and shoulders and whole damn body aches from the hours of grueling work. Buck has to be feeling it, too. Eddie heads right to the bathroom, grabbing the tube of arnica gel that keeps this household running some days.

He doesn’t know how to bring anything up. We need to talk feels as ridiculous as it does dire. That’s a movie script confrontation, as contrived and meaningless as it’s not you, it’s me, or I’m sorry for your loss. Buck is his best friend, and also their fucking hearts beat in rhythm. He can do better.

“My leg hurts sometimes,” is what ends up coming out of his mouth when he gets back to the living room. Your ache is mine. A little poetic, but whatever. It gets the point across. Share it with me, please. We already do, so why are you hiding it?

Buck is sprawled on the floor next to the couch, Eddie isn’t sure why. He looks up at him silently for a few moments, and then rubs at his shoulder. Answer enough. Eddie barely has to look as he tosses him the gel, sure Buck will catch it as Eddie sits on the couch with a sigh. He watches Buck, still prone, hike up his pant leg and start massaging arnica into his calf muscles.

“Are you… doing okay?” It feels stupid to say.

Buck looks at him like it’s stupid to hear, too. His fingers drum a few times over one of the jagged lines still drawn up his shin. “‘M fine, Eds. Just a long day.”

Eddie purses his lips, shaking his head back and forth in a slow roll against the back of the couch. “You know that’s not what I meant.” His hand lifts up to catch the tossed arnica without thinking about it. He looks down at Buck, sprawled out, looking back up at him. “I want to… know that you’re okay. And, Buck, I’m here if you’re not.”

Buck sits up with a sigh that’s more petulant and annoyed than Eddie wishes it was. He rests his chin on his bent knee. “I know. But I’m- I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”

Eddie snorts at that. “Oh, yeah, that’s something I’m great at.”

Buck’s smile grows so tenderly across his face. “I know.” He twitches his right pointer finger three times and Eddie’s moves involuntarily with he tug. “Come on,” he says, standing up with a groan. “Let’s make the pizza.”

They’d bought the ingredients together — sort of together, Buck on the phone at the grocery store and Eddie and Chris shouting requests down the line — earlier that week, and Chris will be home soon from a friend’s house and likely starving from the hard work of being a twelve year old all day long. He’s old enough that the novelty of making the pizza himself is less appealing than being able to immediately eat it, even if Buck had made sad faces as he’d relayed his instructions to make it in his absence. And this is all a distraction, Eddie knows it is, but Buck is smiling down at him and his finger goes tug, tug, tug, and he lets him get away with it.

[larkspurglove]

I wonder just how old Firefly is because the timeline seems to imply she could potentially be older than Nanook and she’s almost certainly older than Blade and Yaoshi.

Basically, the Swarm has been an issue for a millennia, with the Glamoth Iron Calvary being created to counter it. As we know, Firefly has outlived the Glamoth empire.

However, I don’t think it’s stated when Glamoth’s battle with the Swarm started and ended. It could potentially be quite recent, or have happened ages ago.

Also, about her potentially being older than Nanook, Yaoshi and Blade - Nanook came to their belief of ‘the universe being created was a mistake’ after watching the Swarm decimate a few planets. Since when these events happened is ambiguous, it’s entirely possible that Nanook witnessing the Swarm happened after Glamoth’s fight against the Swarm.

As for Yaoshi/Blade, the Abundance didn’t exist during the time of the Swarm Disaster. It’s once again unclear when the Swarm Disaster period ended and when Glamoth fought the Swarm, though. However, due to the absence of Yaoshi during the Swarm period, the Xianzhou would have to had been formed some time after. And since Blade used to be a short life species until becoming mara-struck, he would’ve only been around for the more ‘recent’* period of Xianzhou history.

*I say recent but the High Cloud Quintet was a thing more than 700 years before the main game. So not really recent but when you consider the fact that the Luofu is made up of mainly long-life species it’s kinda recent

That does bring up the question of how exactly Firefly would still be alive, because while the SAM suit does appear to delay the onset of Entropy Loss Syndrome it doesn’t outright stop it

EDIT: I JUST WATCHED THE EMBERS OF GLAMOTH ANIMATED SHORT AND IT INSTANTLY DEBUNKED THIS POST LMAO

(…Unless Kafka is a long-life species?)