#would that rebellion have happened? or at least

[divinacaptivus]

"Father! Can I show you something I found in the archives?" Lorgar asked. "I understand if you are busy, but it is... strange. And I think it would be good to bring it to your attention."

[some 30k-era stuff, from @the-archpriest-and-the-outcast ]

"What is it child?" Asked the deathless Tyrant.

Though so little time remained, the tree of fate was unlikely to bend its branches over a moment-long diversion. It would have to be a moment long and no longer. Already the strings of destiny's web were bending and twisting, producing visions of dread futures filled with fire and blood.

A great storm was on the horizon, one whose winds could tear the foundations of mankind to shreds. The clouds of this storm brought whispers of apocalyptic war with them and were pregnant with the rains of a great betrayal. Where this betrayal would come from remained beyond the Emperor's current line of foresight.

But he knew it was coming and that it was inevitable.

Would it come from his court; from the squabbling high lords and their petty politics?

Would it come from the masters and mistresses of worlds newly brought into the fold?

Would it come from the Astartes hungry for blood in the coming time when there would be no more wars to be fought?

Would it possible for the worst to happen?

Would it come from his own children drunk with power like Icarus, their eyes swollen with the light of ambition's bright sun?

The ancient simply did not know, and that lack of knowledge was maddening.

@the-archpriest-and-the-outcast

[fellhellion]

the 2099 timeline is wonky as hell (without even talking about retcons), but there's something very interesting to me abt the implication that Miguel torpedoing his relationship with Xina and Gabriel feasibly coincides w George and Conchata's divorce (plus her subsequent institutionalisation).

[zamalie]

I also think it’s a little misleading to claim that Rose got zero comeuppance for her actions before her passing considering her entire army consisting of her friends got corrupted. I know people overlook this (or possibly even just don’t think it’s possible given they seem to think she had no capacity to care about people) because they just want to blame her for it happening but that most definitely counts as a devastating consequence of the war she started. Not even mentioning the fact that she spent the rest of her life in hopeless pursuit of fixing it

[hell-heron]

? it's targ vs. greyjoy why are you bringing up the starks? 'who is a worse dad' is a relative question, so the terrible fatherisms of characters not in a specific poll are irrelevant. and assuming ppl with takes you dislike Must be the enemy fan seems unproductive. ned was in round 1 and i did not see you in the trenches with me campaigning.

I don't have time to campaign for Ned to win worst father I'm busy campaigning for Ned to win who has the most gender read my blog

[allseeingdirt]

everytime i think about kath for too long especially when considering the wider picture im like. ngeremes plastik

[sunderwight]

SV scenario where Shen Jiu is also Shen Yuan's Meimei.

Trans egg SJ never got to examine her gender identity very much in her first life. What with all the enslavement, abuse (given as well as received), misunderstandings, betrayals, dismemberment, and death, there was far too much for her to ever come to terms with a set of concepts she'd never really had the luxury to entertain. By the time Shen Jiu was a peak lord, the Shen Qingqiu persona was locked in, and any dreams of a different life or inclinations to the contrary of her role were ruthlessly quashed by SJ herself.

But when SJ finally dies and her soul is free to reincarnate (taking a few more memories than usual along for the ride), she has mixed feelings about being born as the youngest daughter of a wealthy family.

The mixed feelings don't actually last long, though after a while she starts to wonder why the fates would grant her a reprieve? Maybe remembering her past life is her punishment, because it's certainly the worst part of her new situation. Her parents are indulgent, her older brothers all dote on her and spoil her, and when she tests limits she's only gently rebuked if she gets rebuked at all. Not only is she allowed to wear fine dresses and look pretty, she's expected to (actually the expectation does chafe, a bit). But even when she uses foul language, skips classes, reads controversial books, and commits myriad other tiny rebellions, no real retribution ever comes of it.

Even despite everything, after some years Shen Jiu starts to become... not complacent, but perhaps calmer would be a better description. She has a stable future handed to her on a silver platter. Very few things remind her of her past, either. She can read books about snotty highborn lords getting railed by werewolves as readily as classics of literature or academic papers on science, business, culture, politics, or whatever else takes her fancy. Her family doesn't even put demands on her to marry, despite some of her mother's hints in that direction. For the first time, Shen Jiu has a life where it seems like she can't fail, she can only succeed however much she wants to. It's like having nowhere to go but up, except without the part about hitting rock bottom.

A foolish set of assumptions, in the end. There's always something to lose.

When Shen Yuan suddenly dies, Shen Jiu recognizes the sinister hand of the same entity which oversaw her own reincarnation. One which had visited her dreams quite recently, trying to tempt her back to her first life with offers of being able to change the past. It wasn't even difficult to deny it. Shen Jiu doesn't believe she could change what happened, and she doesn't really want to try. Her one regret is what happened to that person, the one who died so horribly while rushing to her rescue, and even that, she doesn't know how she would change (because she still doesn't know why he bothered in the first place).

But how dare the System God take the silliest and softest of her brothers to try and fix her accursed first life?! Luo Binghe will eat him alive! Cang Qiong will mistake him for a demon or a madman or worse, and throw him into some cell somewhere, if they don't just kill him outright!

Shen Meimei tries to negotiate with the System, but it tells her the window of opportunity for her to go back instead has passed. Smarmy piece of shit. There's nothing she can do without supernatural help, however, except bide her time and wait for another "window of opportunity". It's in the midst of this that she discovers PIDW, and its (terrible) account not only of the broad strokes of her first life and death, but of what came afterwards. That little beast really wrecked the world, huh? And all those women, too. She's never been more grateful to have not figured herself out in her first life. But at least with access to this information, she can try and prepare more. (She's suspicious of who actually wrote this account as well -- is Luo Binghe himself in this world? Better to leave it now, in that case, before he inevitably makes another bid for power and destroys everything in his wake all over again!)

When the System finally gives her an opportunity to go back (as herself, or rather "Bonus Epilogue Side Character -- Shen Qingqiu's Mysterious Little Sister!") she is braced for any number of outcomes. Shen Yuan could be dead. He could be imprisoned. He could have had his limbs all cut off. He could be stuffed into a pickle jar. He could be hiding or on the run somewhere. Hopefully, he'll be hiding behind that person, confused and distraught but still intact thanks to the sect leader's guilt-driven sense of obligation. Most likely if the same number of years have passed since Shen Yuan "left", he's already been destroyed by Luo Binghe and all Shen Jiu will be able to do is avenge him. But she has some ideas of how to kill the beast, so, she will.

Of course, what she finds is nothing she expected, and almost even worse.

Luo Binghe married her brother?!

Death is too good for him! Shen Jiu's going to skin him alive!!!

[ohmyoverland]

Anecdote told by my great-great-etc grandmother about the 1798 Irish rebellion (as remembered by her granddaughter sometime in the 1900s).

[Image description: "My grandmother also told me how they would gather up priests, send them out in boats they would puncture, leave them to drown. One priest was harbored closely. So they took the Father to another place. That same night the soldiers came after him, but he was gone. Another good and holy priest hid in a cave. The people took care of him at the risk of their lives. One night a light was seen in the cave and it was supposed that the soldiers had found him at last. But on going close to the cave, the people learned that there were no soldiers there; the priest was dead. The light they saw was a heavenly light which shone about him." /End ID.]

[aureum-cordis]

Lost & Found

Parental!DogDay & Child!Reader

A/N: Hey there! First post, I know, but I couldn’t help but share this. A friend of mine encouraged me to, so I hope other people like it as well! This is only the first part and I have much more planned for this story, I hope you enjoy! I know this ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but that may or may not be intentional. Find Part 2 here!

Spoilers for Poppy Playtime Chapter 3: Deep Sleep!

Warnings: Mentions of character death, blood, gore, and the like. Child experimentation will also be mentioned. This story will contain references to the information in the game as well, if uncomfortable with any of those topics then please proceed with caution.

________________________________________________

DogDay and the others knew well that something was amiss in the building, several of the Smiling Critters had sought him out due to the fact that he was the leader. CatNap was the only one that had been distant for a long time now, becoming something that he couldn’t recognize.

And then it happened. The Hour of Joy. The metallic scent of blood was something he could never rid his nose of, his ears still rang from the sound of screaming from both children and adults. The Prototype had clearly been convincing the cat of the Smiling Critters, for nothing but praises fell out for the creature amongst that dreaded red gas that poured out of his perpetually gaping maw.

DogDay had been able to reach the others first, encouraging them to not stand idly by and follow something as monstrous as The Prototype and his newly fashioned pawn.

It ended poorly, their rebellion was met with nightmarish hallucinations and a set of claws that sliced their bodies to ribbons.

Even they were not impervious to the red gas that covered the ground like a dense fog, announcing CatNap’s presence before he could be seen. Few of them remained, far less than what once was. They rotated hideouts regularly, knowing well that they had to keep moving to avoid CatNap’s patrols.

Currently, the place they had sought refuge in was some long abandoned room of the orphanage. Those that remained were silent.

CraftyCorn was frantically drawing something on a dirtied sheet of paper, the colors bleeding against her hooves as she struggled to keep a steady grip.

Bobby BearHug was huddled in a corner, clutching a blanket that was shredded in places and nearly fell apart as she held it to her chest, her body shook from silent sobs or perhaps fear of what would come.

DogDay himself was solemn, resting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. They had just lost Hoppy days prior, or at least it had seemed like days. Any semblance of a concept of time was lost in this pit of despair, the inability to even catch a glimpse of light that wasn’t artificial was disheartening and disorienting. The others in the room were in no state to actively patrol, their minds in shambles and in various states of decay.

There was no optimism to be found, he knew that. Any attempt to even lighten the mood would be met with dismay and the kind of disgust that caused nausea to wash over oneself and clouded any other senses. They had lost far too many for any form of joy to be found.

CatNap may have been the one to end their lives, following the guiding hand of The Prototype, but their blood was also on his hands. Their screams kept him awake, the fear in their voices as they called out and weeped for help kept him going.

Slowly, he rose from his seated position to his feet, the sun pendant that hung from his zipper clinked against the metal with the motion and swung gently before resting against his chest. It was enough of a sound to draw the eyes of CraftyCorn, to which DogDay gave a dip of his head. “I’m sorry to startle you, that wasn’t my intention,” he started, voice rough and scratchy from disuse as he met the eyes of the other.

“I’ll take the first watch, be safe and try to get some rest, please.” The please sounded pathetic in his own ears, a sign that despite his attempts to remain strong for the other survivors, he was suffering from the grief and loss of their shared companions.

The idea of losing them too was something he refused to linger on, a small sliver of hope remained in his heart despite the horrors that threatened their very lives.

CraftyCorn didn’t seem to mind the interruption, even going as far as lowering her hooves as she looked over at him, the red crayon in her grasp rolled to the floor with a quiet thump. “Be careful, DogDay.” Her voice was soft, it was a comfort in this trying time. As gentle as the very petals of the flower she once smelled like, an extension of her kind yet hardy nature.

He wanted to reassure her, to give her some hope that he might return. But that wasn’t a guarantee, he knew that.

Regardless, he nodded before approaching the door, opening it slightly before listening carefully for any sounds. Relieved to have been met with relative silence, he crept through the door before shutting it behind him. Complete silence was impossible for him to achieve, given his size and the overall state of the orphanage itself.

His movements were slow and deliberate, each placement of his hand or foot was mindful of the debris that lined the halls. Shattered picture frames with glass littering the floor and various toys that had once belonged to the children here were a common item to stumble across. There had been moments when the odd toy activated or some rotting piece of wood snapped under the pressure of a bed that rested upon it, but it was silent other than that.

His ears were active in keeping note of his surroundings, as his nose focused on the horrible scent of lavender and the intensity of it. It stuck to every crack and crevice of this building, yet it was relatively faint at the given moment, a positive in an otherwise grim situation. His eyes swept every open door that he passed by, peering into the room for several moments before moving on. To say he was tense and alert was an understatement, every fiber of his being stood on edge as he patrolled the halls.

He froze in his tracks as a sound caught his attention, a sound that he hadn’t been expecting to come across. It had been a sob, a shuddering and weak sound that left from an open door in front of him. Had he not been focused as intently as he was, he could’ve missed it. DogDay stayed in that position as he listened further, making sure that he hadn’t been imagining such a sound. His doubts were shattered as he heard the sound repeat, the fear in the weeping was unmistakable.

The thought didn’t even cross his mind that it could potentially be a trap, that some sick monster would be willing to mimic such a heartbreaking sound.

[elsafromcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies | chapter one

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: even though she lives in the usa, my main character, barbara, is brazilian. i added terms and expressions that we use in our country, as well as cultural elements, to this fanfic. the words that appear in portuguese are highlighted and you can contact me if you have any questions.

masterlist

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

[star--nymph]

Vivienne's fear being 'becoming irrelevant' isn't something that's linked explicitly to her pride, no matter what Solas says about her (and the irony of Mr.Pride himself saying that should not be lost on you), it reveals what and who Vivienne truly is.

She's a survivalist.

Because we don't spend as much time in the Free Marches or Orlesian circles, we don't get to experience what being a mage is in these cultures. In Ferelden and Kirkwall, a mage is a lesser being without freedom no matter what they do--but in the Free Marches and Orlais specifically, mages are commodities that are given freedom so long as they play an entertaining enough role. They can explore the world if they have a noble patron, if they catch the right person's eye. They are, in a way, two sides of the same coin--refusing mages agency and forcing them to relay on higher powers. Vivienne lucked out, as sad as it is, when Bastion fell in love with her; she found someone who was contrarian enough to recognize her as a full person and also someone with power that could help her rise through the ranks. This is not to say that Vivienne on her own wasn't an exceedingly talented and intelligent individual--by nineteen she was already the youngest full fledged mage in Circle history and she was skilled enough to make herself an enchanter. But, I can not emphasize this enough, none of that matters if she didn't also play the Game and impress enough people.

Vivienne could have been the most brilliant mage in the history of Thedas and it means nothing if she was overlooked by nobility.

So when Bastion made her his mistress, she gained not just a lover but also a means to an end. Now she can use her magic to protect herself. Now she can roam where she wants and not be question for it because she's Madame Vivienne. Now, she can walk into the Orlasian court and belong there.

And what happens? Celene notices her and makes her the Court Enchanter, a position that has always been the equivalent of a jester. Vivienne took that title, ignored that it was essentially a glorified insult to who she is, and made it a position of power. She made the Court Enchanter into an advisor, a political rank. She had done the impossible and made mages an actual political entity in the Orlasian Court, something that wasn't seen outside of Tervinter (not counting what players can do under very specific conditions if they made mages in DAO and DA2).

All that, however, only continues as long as the court recognizes her as something worth their attention. Vivienne needs to maintain her act as Madame De Fer, The Lady of Iron, the Court Enchanter, The Jewel of the High Court, because the second she just becomes Vivienne, it's over for her. The assassins coming raining in, her name gets devoured by rumors and gossip, and she'll be found dead at bottom of the stair case with a dagger in her back if she's lucky.

So of course when the Circles fall apart during the Rebellion, she clings to that Loyalist Mages to maintain that structure--of course she moves her pieces to the Inquisition, knowing that if the Circle DOES fall, she at least as another place for herself and mages latch onto--of course when she hears that Celene replaced her with a new Court Enchanter that appeared out of no where, she grows to resent Morrigan.

Like, Morrigan literally pops up out of thin air, makes herself invaluable to Celene, and then plants herself in the place Vivienne had to claw her way up to and create so she could survive. Would you not be resentful when your life's work is usurped by some random witch of the wilds because she happened to charm the Empress? Everything Vivienne strived for all whisked away because the court find a gem who glimmers ever so slightly more than Vivienne.

So yes, Vivienne fears becoming irrelevant because the world has made it so that irrelevance for an Orlesian mage means death.

[nsoulnet]

🧴-bodyguard els!

summary: in which the reader's father is a celebrity, so he gets reader a bodyguard for protection! ellie sees through the protests and rebellion, and she knows exactly how to get you to admit what you want.

warnings: MDNI!!!!, bratty!reader, lowkey spoiled!reader, brat tamer! ellie, smuttt, nipple play, degrading, nipple piercing, bodyguard!ellie, bdsm, power dynamics, teasing, lowkey daddy issues!reader, probably more that i forgot to list

the people have spoken! most requested from my last poll💞

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩.✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

"what the fuck do you mean I'm getting a bodyguard!? you can't be serious!" you scream, fuming at your dad for his latest antics. you usually keep your cool, but he's never said anything this stupid before.

a bodyguard? what for?

you're so annoyed he's taking this step, sure he's famous and you're pretty reckless- so what? you're not a small child, you're grown and you can take care of yourself!

your father, on the other hand, seems not to care- like usual. he keeps that same blank stare as you unleash your rage, and once you pause to catch your breath, he excuses himself.

too busy with the next brand deal, or advertisment, or magazine column. soo frustrating!

you can't believe him, buying you some guy to follow you around and make sure you live the dullest, most monotone life possible! this is truly a nightmare!

before the bodyguard even arrives, you're thinking of ways to scare him off. you could completely torment him, maybe bring as many girls home as possible and get touchy. or maybe you could pretend like he hurt you! that would rile your father up!

by the day you finally meet your new incarcerator, you're sure you'll have him gone in less than a month. you know it won't be long before it's back to programming as usual.

except, something unexpected happens. you're introduced to the bodyguard, and instead of some pervy, buff man, you find a woman standing before you.

a very pretty woman.

you didn't plan for this, and it frustrates you even more that you father somehow managed to be one step ahead this time. this woman made you nervous before you even knew her name!

you have to keep your mean façade up, though, so you make sure to say something snarky. "so you're the woman who signed up to act like my babysitter.. how much is he paying you, huh?", you snicker in her face, and she just smiles.

"good money, that's for sure. my name is ellie, what's yours?", she says, walking you into your apartment. you don't even want to look at her, because it gets you all flustered.

you're surprised she doesn't say anything about your silence- she's not trying to control you yet. you're tired of the quiet.

you run into your bedroom, flopping on the bed and groaning in annoyance at the sight of ellie in the doorway. "my room doesn't even have windows- what could even happen?! can I get some space!" you yell out into the doorway, and ellie just nods before walking off. what?

she... listened?

the next few weeks are beyond what you could ever have imagined. ellie doesn't invade your privacy, she barely even bothers you, and she's discreet whenever you both go out.

it starts to annoy you how well the whole bodyguard thing is working out. because it means your father was right about this being a good choice, and you can't stand for your father to be right.

so you get even more reckless. more drinking, more nights out, more ellie having to drag your sloppy drunk self home. even so, you never heard a word of complaint- in fact, she took any chance she could find to get closer with you. it was getting irritating.

but if you couldn't take ellie down, the least you could do is a big fuck-you to your dad. let him know you can never let him win!

the press has had a field day with the relationship between you and your father, and the many rebellious stunts you've pulled before. you've gotten tattoos, some facial piercings and you weren't against most body mods.

however, you'd never done anything really scandalous. nothing like getting a nipple piercing.

you were fairly drunk one night, stumbling home with ellie's arm just barely propping you up, when you passed by your favorite piercing store. you were the most impulsive when you were drunk, and as soon as you saw that shop, you floundered right over.

so many kinds of piercings, but all you wanted was a nipple piercing- and you wanted it bad.

so bad, that ellie couldn't stop you when you got it done. she defeatedly paid before taking you home, but you noticed a glint in her eye.

the next day, ellie sat you down on your bed after your shower, and asked about the piercing. "does it hurt? is it sensitive?" she asked in a careful voice. you wanted to give her attitude soo bad, but not when she acted so caring.

you tried to just brush her off, but eventually she cut to the chase. "listen, you know im here to protect you, right? it's really not safe to... be so impulsive. i know you find me irritating. but please, just let me help you... you can listen this one time?" she says, with such saccharine eyes you couldn't help but melt.

"right! yeah, sure, just... what- what do i need to do?" you asked. she was just being so nice, it made you so flustered....

thats why you listened when she asked if you could let her see the piercings. even though letting her see your bare nipples was... humiliating, warmth was spreading in your underwear as well on your face. shit- you were aroused?!

ellie seemed so kind, gently inspecting the piercing. your nipples had always been sensitive, so they were even worse pierced. just feeling them rub against your shirt made your body tingle.

"there we go, you're going to let me help you clean 'em, right?" ellie said, voice nearly a whisper. you were willing to let her do anything- so you nodded quickly.

ellie used some cotton pads that were wet with saline solution, before just feeling your nipples with her soft fingers. she noticed the blissed out look in your eyes, and that's when she decided to stop. "alright, you're all clean! you did such a a great job, y'know.." she said, in a whispery voice.

you wanted to scream. you wanted to whine, beg for her to keep touching you, but you started to feel bad. she was just trying to help you clean the piercing, wasn't she?

"wait, what's wrong?" ellie says, pausing in the middle of putting the supplies back. "did I hurt you?" she asks, and your brain begins to short-circuit. this much affection from a girl has been previously unheard of, and it just all feels too good... your brain is so fuzzy...

ellie understands when a small whine escapes your lips. "wait... something going on here?'" she says, narrowing her eyes. she has you right where she wants you.

you stumble over your words, trying to make excuses for your flusteredness, but ellie doesn't hear any of it. "what, you really feel that way about your bodyguard?", she leans in and whispers.

you can't deny the attraction you've had to her for a while. anyway, you won't get what you want if you do.

"that- right, I'm sorry, just let me deal with this really quick," you say breathlessly. you can't bear to tell her what you really feel. it's too bad, then, that she has every intention to make you.

"no, don't worry... I can help you. just say it. tell me what you want me to do..." she whispers, before getting up from the bed with a cocky smile you've hardly seen before. you can tell she's waited all too long for this.

"ellie... els, shit, I... need you to help me over here..." you whine, hand resting on your soaking cunt. you just want ellie to fill you up.

luckily, she takes that as enough begging. you don't even realize it when your clothes are gone, or when she has you bent over the bed.

her fingers slip in and out of your sticky folds, lighting your skin on fire. all you can think of is how bad you want her.

her warm tongue abuses your clit, her hands have a bruising grip on your thighs. she has your legs shaking and your head spinning.

"js'sso pretty down here, right sweetness?" she mumbles, giving your ass a light slap before getting up and undressing herself. a thick, 8-inch marbled strap made its way out of her boxers, and you practically drooled.

but you'd taken many straps before, 8 inches wasn't too bad for you. so you got cocky. "what, only 8? you sure you don't have something bigger?" you sneered, and a look flashed in her eyes.

"there she is, the brat is back isn't she?" she chuckled. her hand snaked down your back teasingly, before pressing your back into a deeper arch. you groaned at the pressure, but it wasn't too much.

"you gonna p-put it in already?" you say, voice wavering. ellie looks kind of scary, like she's been waiting for you to say something distasteful.

her hands grip your hips, and you feel the strap slide in. it's definitely got some girth to it, but what's really shocking is how quickly ellie slams it in. so fast, you feel like you can taste her in your mouth.

"come on, where did the attitude go? i thought 8 inches was nothing for you?" she whispers in your ear, sliding in and out at a harsh pace. you can't even speak, body shaking as she fucks you relentlessly.

one of her hands is playing with your nipple, and the other is gently rubbing circles on your clit. "els- ellie, please.." you choke out. she's going so roughly, but you feel like you're about to cum all over yourself.

"you know, you act so insufferable... celebrity's daughter, thinking she can treat people like shit, because what? 'cause her daddy doesn't pay enough attention to 'er?" she says, groaning at how tight you're squeezing the strap.

" 'm so sorry els- shitt, ellie, please..." you whimper, but she just gives your thigh a light smack. "you're sorry, huh?" she mocks, before grabbing your face and kissing all over your lips. "you gonna be good now, right? 'cause bad girls don't get to cum!" she grunts, slamming her hips into yours even harder. your cum is running down your legs, a creamy mess that gets your thighs all sticky and tacky.

"mhm, m'gonna be so good for you els! please, please just let me cum..", you mumble, shoving your face into a pillow because you're just so needy that you put your defenses down.

"good- shit, good fucking girl." she coos, giving your sloppy wet cunt multiple light slaps. "you gonna cum? come on baby, you can do it..."

for a second, everything is misty. your legs shake and go weak, stuffing you even fuller of ellie's thick strap. creamy, sticky squirt sprays all over the bed, while ellie's grip on your hips tightens.

"shit, you- you feel so good..." she mumbles, before nearly collapsing on top of you from the intensity of her own orgasm.

you lay on the bed, out of breath, when suddenly she leans in close from behind you and whispers something.

"round two?"

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩.✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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[hencheri]

guilty pleasure

18+. mdni.

pairing: yuta x fem!reader

warnings: religious themes & mention of religious guilt, dubcon, corruption kink, manipulation, perv!yuta.

wc: 2.8k

a.n.: this is part 1 of a series of 2 oneshots. part 2 won't come so soon, but will be much darker with more plot.. i swear.

.

you’ve never thought you would lose yourself so fast in the hands of a man you barely knew. it goes against so many of your values and morals, goes against all the promises you made to yourself all those years ago when you were just a teenage girl. 

the very thing you’ve always told yourself, always knew you would follow, is now your biggest sin. 

you swore to yourself that you would not fall into lust with a boy that wouldn’t be your husband, or at the very least, your boyfriend. 

you’ve never been the slightest interested in sex; it didn’t bother you to not know certain things, or how it felt. didn’t bother you either to be the inexperienced one amongst all of your friends who are very much sexually active. 

your studies have always been more important than all of that teenage rebellion stuff. your parents are proud of you, they see a successful girl with a big future in you, and that’s all you need right now. 

until he came in and ruined you to the core. nakamoto yuta. 

he represents everything your parents are scared of. everything they’re against. 

before that, you couldn’t remember a time you interacted with him. you weren’t interested in knowing him, even though your friends sure would have liked to know him in plenty of different ways. 

yuta has always been the rebellious emo guy from your highschool that grew up to be every girl’s wet dream. he smokes, he does drugs, he drinks; any illicit substance you mention, he has done. and this was just one of the many reasons why you didn’t want and couldn’t be with him. 

because yuta is the definition of sin itself. 

he’s laying in your bed, shirtless, while your eyes are fixated on him, not knowing what to do. your heat is pulsing, your panties always soaked whenever he’s around, something that really never happened to you before. 

he’s corrupted your mind, implanted thoughts in your brain that you’re so embarrassed to even acknowledge. if before a half-naked yuta in your room would have made you cringe, now it has you eager to take all of his clothes off and play with his cock until you’re covered in his cum. 

you weren’t that down bad at the beginning, on the contrary; you were absolutely scared. you didn’t want this, didn’t want him in such a foul and perverted way. 

but you think he’s corrupted you right after the first time. 

it was in the library, somewhere you’re sure he’s never stepped foot before until he learned it’s where you’re hidden most of the time. at the far back end of the library, back against the bookshelves and trapped between yuta’s arms, he had whispered “do you ever touch yourself? you know, down there.”

his hand had deliberately brushed over your clothed core, sneaking under your skirt without your permission, but all you did was watch him with big, rounded eyes. 

the answer was obviously that you didn’t. again, you weren’t interested, never had the time to really think about it. 

“i can show you what you’re missing out on, angel,” was what he said next, and that’s exactly what he did.

fingers pressing tight and low circles on your clit until you came, spasms of your orgasm bringing you to tears. 

you couldn’t even see him without thinking about what had happened, couldn’t bring yourself to look at his right hand without remembering where it had been. to say you were embarrassed was an understatement. 

he passes a hand through his long brown hair, eyeing you up and down. “come, i’m gonna show you something,” he softly says. 

he shows you the spot between his legs, and as you take it, you feel your stomach churning and face heating up. you sit down on your knees and he spreads his legs further apart to make space for you. 

 “you remember last time, right?” he asks and you shyly nod your head, recalling perfectly what you did. “well, instead of using our hands, i want us to use our mouths.” 

your brows raise up, staring at yuta like he just said the filthiest thing ever — and quite frankly, he did. 

“yuta, i don’t- i don’t know… that’s nasty,” you wince. 

“i don’t think it is,” he replies, slightly shaking his head from side to side. he lets his eyes travel down your body, looking at your cotton shirt hugging your perfectly shaped tits — that he knows fit just right in the palm of his hands — then back up to your face. 

he takes your hips and pulls you closer, “don’t you wanna know how my tongue would feel like, hm?” he’s so close to you his nose nudges you, his lips hovering over yours. “i know you wanna,” he breathes out, his mouth staying ajar, tempting you. 

just to confirm his words, he slips a hand into your shorts and panties, not even surprised to find you dripping wet. he grins, satisfied that your little mind is running wild on itself, not even needing yuta’s help for that. 

“see?” he retrieves his fingers, putting them right in front of your face where you can see your arousal sticking to them. “open up for me.”

as expected, you pull your eyebrows together, thinking there’s no way he will make you lick it. you were already grossed out when he did it himself the last time you were together, his two fingers entirely coated in your wetness. 

seeing that you’re doing nothing, he clasps his other hand around your jaw, pulling your mouth open and pushing his wet fingers past your pretty lips. 

his hand slides down to your neck, “there you go, angel. suck on them,” he instructs, his eyes focused on the movements of your mouth, warm tongue licking yuta’s digits clean. 

you scrunch your eyes shut, feeling embarrassed in so many ways. but you like it. you like it a lot. 

he slips his fingers out, now even wetter than before. he smiles at you, “it isn’t so bad, don’t you think?” he wipes his fingers across his chest, movement that you follow closely until he lays his hands back on your hips. 

yuta leans further back onto your pillows, “what about we start slow, yeah?” he suggests, his hand hovering over his crotch, your eyes glancing down at it.

you look back up, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth. “okay…” you breathe out.

he then sweetly smiles at you, one that doesn’t fit at all with what he’s thinking about right now. satisfied with your answer, yuta helps you by parting his legs as you lie down on your stomach, hands on his thighs. 

“perfect…” he lowly groans, making himself comfortable on your bed. “now, you can just undo my jeans,” he watches you executing yourself, dragging his zipper down and unbuttoning his pants. he passes his tongue over his bottom teeth, already turned on by your overly innocent face. “and pull my underwear down.”

your breath quickens when he says that, looking up at him with frown eyebrows and a pout. how cute. 

he lets out a light chuckle and joins his hands to yours, thumbs hooking under his boxers. “need some help?” 

you don’t respond to his teasing, only shifting your gaze down to his crotch again, tugging down both his pair of briefs and jeans. he lifts his hips up for you, and you can’t help the little gasp of surprise that escapes you when yuta’s cock springs out, resting over his stomach. 

your eyes immediately roam over his body, looking at the few tattoos decorating his skin that you know your parents would disapprove of. you can’t lie that they are magnificent, especially on him. he has a butterfly on his hip and a feather on the other, placed just on his hip bones. 

yuta also has a navel piercing, a detail that really makes him so much hotter than he already is. if you’d ever come home with one of these, you’re certain your parents would kick you out without a second thought. 

“are you done staring?” you hear him laughing, distracting you from your thoughts. 

“sorry,” you bashfully mumble under your breath, blood creeping up to your face. 

“spit in my hand,” he suddenly demands, presenting you his open palm. 

you’re taken aback a little, still finding it gross. “yuta-” you begin to complain, but he rapidly cuts you off.

“you’ve agreed, baby. come on, do as i say.”

you collect the saliva in your mouth, looking directly into yuta’s eyes as you let a globe of spit fall from your mouth to his palm. he then takes his cock with the same hand, stroking himself and spreading your saliva all over his length. 

he grabs one of your wrists and gently wraps your hand around himself, sucking in breath through his teeth when you tighten your hold. 

“now what?” you curiously ask. 

“can you… can you take just the tip in your mouth?” 

you try to not look repulsed by his demand, inhaling before bending down to his hard cock, parting your lips and entering the tip into your mouth. 

“oh, fuck-” yuta throws his head back onto the cushions of your fluffy pillows, relishing into the feeling of your warm, inexperienced mouth on him. “yeah, just like that, angel,” he chokes out, gulping down. “suck it…”

you gaze briefly at yuta before deciding yourself to follow his instructions. swirling your tongue around his head, you go a little further down, him watching you with his mouth agape, entranced by the sight in front of him. 

you have the unfamiliar taste of his precum in your mouth. it’s neither good nor unpleasant, but it’s still weird to think that you’re tasting him. 

you suck like yuta told you to do, slightly bobbing your head as you figure it might procure him more pleasure and you’re right; he almost immediately moans out loud, hand coming directly to hold your hair in his fist. 

you gaze up at him and your eyes connect. he’s gritting his teeth, sucking his bottom lip in. his cross pendant is sitting right on his naked chest, as if taunting you, cruelly reminding you of what you’re actually doing. you scrunch your eyes shut, breaking eye contact with yuta, and move your head up and down more vigorously, eliciting melodious moans out of him. 

“oh, fuck, baby…” yuta croaks out, his head lolling back on his shoulders. he squints his eyes, watching his cock entering and exiting your mouth, traces of your red lipstick remaining on him. “you’re doing such a good job, continue like that,” he praises.

hearing that somehow makes you more embarrassed than you already are. you shouldn’t be good at this — you’ve never done this before, never even thought about doing it. but yuta’s moans and groans sounding through your bedroom make you so much wetter as the minutes pass. his sounds make you believe you want to do this everyday just to hear them, just to know that you’re the reason he’s feeling good. 

it’s like the sexual desire you have for yuta is stronger than the guilt you feel for having those said desires in the first place. 

his hand suddenly pushes you further down his engorged cock, forcing you to take more than you’re ready for. he fists your hair, pulling harshly and making your scalp sting. 

you whine around him, pleading eyes looking up at him. “it’s fine, baby, it’s fine… you can handle it, my little slut,” he groans out the last words, very much pleased with the idea of you being his own pretty little fucktoy. 

on the other hand, you don’t like it at all. it makes your stomach twist in a tight knot, eyes starting to water whether because of the lack of air entering your lungs or because of the unbearing guilt that you feel, it’s not important.

all that matters is that yuta doesn’t let you suffocate around his dick. 

you reach up to grab his hand that is holding your head down, trying to unlock his fingers from around your hair to no avail. 

but then he pulls your head up, cock slipping out of your mouth and slapping down against his stomach in a wet thud. you gasp, taking in big puffs of air, chest heaving up and down rapidly. you gulp down multiple times and wipe the drool that fell out of your mouth earlier off of your chin. 

“shit,” yuta curses under his breath and it’s now that you notice he’s rapidly fisting his cock, all your saliva sticking to his hand and making squelching noises. 

he finishes quickly after, his cum spurting out of his tip and dripping down over his hand. his pace slows down as he empties himself completely, little white beads falling over his black painted nails. 

“gonna help me clean this little mess,” he says softly, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk as he gently pats your hair. 

you agree, getting up on your knees and extending your arm to your nightstand where the tissue box is, but yuta grabs your hand, bringing you back in your initial position. 

“you have a mouth, baby. good girls don’t let anything go to waste.”

you wince in confusion. does he really want you to lick all of it?

“yuta, please, i don’t… want to,” you refuse, glimpsing down at his cock softening in his hand. 

your disobedience clearly starts to irritate him a little. “you’re okay with sucking me off, but not eating my cum?” he snickers, “stop being so difficult.”

he forcefully pulls you down toward his crotch and with no other option, you stick your tongue out and begin to lick his cum off of him, including his cock and hand. you’re surprised that it tastes nothing, but you’re still not very fond of it. it’s quite humiliating, to be honest. 

when you’re done, yuta doesn’t waste any time before pushing you on your back, getting on top of you. 

“it’s my turn now. i promise to be gentle,” he grins, lowering himself until his head is in between your thighs. he gets your shorts and panties off of you, greeted with the sight of your aching, wet pussy. “aw, look at this… my baby really wants me, doesn’t she?”

your cheeks heat up again, feeling so not at ease with your bare cunt at the mercy of yuta. especially when he looks at you like you’re his prey, about to eat you alive. 

despite all of your conflicted feelings, you can’t ignore the pulse in your clit and the urge to just clench your thighs for some relief. watching yuta cum is surely an image you will have in your mind for a long time. it’ll haunt your thoughts, you’re certain of it. 

he licks his lips and asks, “ready?”

you simply nod your head as a yes, taking in a big breath, nervous.

he dives in, his lips finding your clit and sucking on it as soon as he gets his mouth on you. you squeal, hands gripping his hair as if to get him away, involuntarily jerking your hips upward and onto his face. 

you’re incredibly sensitive, and the pleasure in your stomach builds up so rapidly, even faster than when yuta gave you your first orgasm. you were already so turned on, that the quickness of his tongue is enough to bring you over the edge. 

“yuta, i’m- i’m gonna…” you stutter, but you’re so ashamed of what’s happening, you can’t get the words out. 

he doesn’t need to do more until you’re cumming in his mouth, legs shaking on each side of his head, tightly gripping his hair in your fists. his tongue laps at your clit a few more times, driving you through your orgasm. 

he withdraws his head away from your cunt, smiling at you, “that was quick. if i knew you were this horny, i’d have taken care of you sooner, baby.” you don’t answer, but accept the kiss he gives you on the lips.

after this, you know you can’t go back. how could you possibly when he tore away the last bits of innocence you had?

[babushkatty]

Tranquil SAGAU - Part 6

-> Part 1

-> Part 5

With Dvalin gone, you were left basically homeless. Not that it was much of an issue, not really. The forests had been very kind to you -- you could easily live the life of a hermit if you so wished, without having to worry about food, water, shelter or animal attacks.

But it would also be horribly lonely. No compassionate silence, no background noise and buzz of other people scurrying around and going about their day without minding you, no one to speak to if you ever felt the need to.

You liked being alone, but you were still human and humans were social animals.

Soooooo, you promptly asked Crepus about working in his Winery in exchange for accommodations, because 'one that asks, does not stray'... or something like that anyways. Your sister always made her life that much harder because she outright refused to ask for help even when hopelessly lost or overwhelmed, so there must be something to the saying at least.

"You don't have to work to earn your keep, (Name). I'd be more than happy to house you as my guest for however long you want!" is what Crepus 'Sunshine Personified' Ragnvindr responded with.

Crepus used Puppy Eyes, it was super effective!

You laid defeated, a puddle of cuteness overload once again wishing for sunglasses to protect yourself from the blinding smiles and imaginary wagging tails.

Crepus was horrible for your heart.

Still, you would go insane if left with nothing to do for days at a time, so you went to turn the Ragnvindr library upside down with Crepus' blessing, a bunch of notebooks, a bunch of pens and a delusion that you'd do any actual studying in there.

This was Teyvat, but this wasn't Genshin Impact -- a library wouldn't have interesting lore, it'd have dry history and even drier geography, accompanied by boring economics and even more boring politics (which was a damn shame too, politics were so interesting when written right).

You never quite had a head for those, prefering subjects with more practical applications that could be practiced instead of having to be beaten into your thick skull until you memorized it just long enough to write the exam.

Though for some ungodly reason you still remembered that onions were actually leaves. It was one of the very few things you remembered from school, actually.

Probably the trauma speaking.

Still, you did find some interesting books - a diary speaking of the Decarabian rule, for example.

Today, I don my very own Windblume.

I can only hope Lord Decarabian never learns of its' significance.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The winds are particularly harsh today.

I am afraid, but I smile and play my lyre as if nothing were happening at all, like I always do.

Sometimes, I forget if what I do is to reasure the people or to delude myself that everything is as it should be...

Then again, does it matter when the result remains the same?

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are growing restless.

Their yearning for freedom gave birth to a small wind spirit that seems fond of my playing. It is an adorable being, even if it has yet to communicate with us.

It remind me of a newborn puppy.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are planning a rebellion.

I want to help, but how can I? I am no soldier, my strength lays with the pen and the lyre, not with the sword.

Ragnvindr told me there was no need for more warriors, that I was doing enough by keeping the morale up with my performances... I am hesistant to believe him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The little spirit has spoken for the first time today.

It said that it knew the song I was playing, despite it being a new piece I was in the midst of creating, and sang along to lyrics I had yet to write.

It was strange, but it made me happy nonetheless.

Perhaps I was strange too, for feeling that way.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

You had a suspicion on who the author of the diary was by that point. Maybe Crepus would be open to giving this diary to Venti, instead of it gathering dust on the shelf?

Idly, you wondered how it had survived so long, but figured Ragnvindr and his descendants took good care of it.

I met Ragnvindr today.

Something compelled me to share my worries with him, even though I knew he had enough weight on his shoulders and I ought not to add more.

"If you cannot trust in yourself, then trust in me and my trust in you instead" he told me.

It helped.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Meetings regarding the rebellion are more and more frequent. Ragnvindr, alongside a man named Amos, have convinced the Gunnhildr clan to participate against all odds.

I can understand their hesitance. Should we fail to kill Lord Decarabian, their legacy would be no more.

I admire their bravery.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The wind has long since realized change is imminent, even when Lord Decarabian himself has not - the little spirit said so.

King of Gales indeed, even the wind has rebelled against him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Ragnvindr speaks of a bad premonition.

In truth, my heart is uneasy as well, but how can I share those feelings with anyone but myself? It is not the time to bother others with my issues -- it is time to reassure everyone, to rouse their spirit and not to let fear take root even as they stand against a God. It is my duty as a bard and as a fellow rebel.

The Windblume feels particularly heavy as I write this.

I fear I will not live to see tomorrow's sunset, but I fear for my dearest friends and for Mondstadt even more.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

My little spirit friend is still without a name.

I know it does not bother them, they are the wind itself after all, but I would still like to give them a name others can remember them by.

A name that they can remember me by once I pass on, selfish as it is to bind an immortal to a memory.

But I am selfish, even if Ragnvindr may see me as a paragon of virtue. I am a human and to be human is to be flawed. I am not ashamed of it, even if I often feel guilty for it.

Perhaps it will be the very last thing I achieve in this life of mine.

It is hard to name them.

I've thought of many names up until now.

Caelus. Liberius. Aella. Calliope. Achill. Carmine. Hilarius. Hanne. Zephyrinus. Dieter. Sascha. Scilla. Paulus. Notus. Veronica. Agna. Vergil.

Those are just a few of the ones I discarded.

None fit.

I can only hope the right name reveals itself when it is time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

That was the last entry.

You closed the diary and carefully put it aside.

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨

It was not supposed to be mostly nameless bard POV via old diary.

It really wasn't.

Mans literally kidnapped the chapter entirely against my will while I was half asleep yesterday and attempting to write at nearly midnight and I was powerless to stop it, on god.

But hey, at least we got potential Venti bonding set up for the future?

I was planning for more fluff, but I also have no outline for this, so my chapters have a chance of getting kidnapped at any time.

✨BY THE WAY!!!!✨

The charm of spontaneous writing, I guess?

If you have something you want to happen - for example we're in the library right now, so maybe you want a book about a specific tidbit to appear - do let me know, maybe I'll write it in!

I had 2 tests and 1 retake yesterday and holy shit i got through all of them and tomorrow is last day of uni then it's ✨HOLIDAYS✨

✨Taglist✨

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[windcarvedlyre]

Thinking about Venti's role as an archon and how he might be doing his job- as Celestia intended- better than we think.

Archons, in Gnosticism, rule over the material realm and prevent souls from leaving it. Barbatos, in the Ars Goetia, "reconciles disputes between friends and those who hold power".

Everything we know about Venti implies that he hates Celestia and opposes all forms of tyranny, but if their goal is to keep humanity from advancing, realising the truth of the world and taking actions that could threaten the status quo...

...isn't the best way to prevent rebellions and slow progress to make the people you rule content with what they have?

Venti is all about making his people's lives leisurely and seemingly free (I'll get to that in a second). It's in his gemstone quote, the thing which summarises his approach as an archon:

"Still, the winds change direction. "Someday, they will blow towards a brighter future… "Take my blessings and live leisurely from this day onward."

We see this reflected in Mondstadt's culture and economy. There are still hardworking individuals in the Knights of Favonius, the Church of Favonius and the Adventurer's Guild, but this attitude isn't universal even within those organisations and the rest of Mondstadt's people generally have a slow, relaxed approach to life relative to other nations. They haven't produced any internationally notable industries outside of alcohol, and why would they? They have everything they need, graciously provided by the anemo archon himself*, so why strive for more?

This has already left them vulnerable to the whims of more powerful nations, incapable of meaningfully opposing the Fatui without inviting consequences they can't handle.

*Also see Jean's story quest for a scaled-down version of this. Mondstadt's general population relies on her hard work a bit too much and she enables them.

We also see Mondstadt have a softening effect on outsiders multiple times in-game. There are at least three cases of people questioning their life choices because its people and/or scenery are that nice. Two are branches of hangout events, one is a soon-to-be-ex treasure hoarder chilling on Cider Lake's coast. I've joked that Mond is a lotus eater hotel scaled up to a nation based on this, but what if that's somewhat intentional?

But why would he do this?

It could be an unintended side effect of efforts to improve people's quality of life. He was allegedly naive enough not to forsee the aristocracy situation, after all. But at the same time... he's a god of freedom and hope in a world where his people have no hope of freedom.

-Harmost's Notes (II), Remuria.

He knows what happens to human civilisations that advance too far and attempt to rebel against this world. He likely knows a god much like him, themed around music and desperate to free his people from fate, tried and failed horribly. He lives in the shadow of a celestial needle. The Cataclysm would only reinforce this perceived futility of resistance. He still hopes for a brighter future, but he may be pinning all of his hopes on a descender taking pity on Teyvat's people and choosing to help them. To quote the description of Mondstadt Statues of the Seven:

A monumental stone statue that watches over Mondstadt. Legends say that it was sculpted in the image of the Anemo Archon. "Seeds brought by the wind will grow over time." The statue silently anticipates the arrival of a noble soul to arrive, while thousand winds of time will soon unfold a new story...

Apart from that, what else can he do besides be passive and complacent? Besides make his people comfortable and hope they don't rock the boat too much before liberation is actually possible?

And the thing about resolving disputes with those in power worries me. It could just translate into his pacifism, but it could also mean he's less willing to act against Celestia than we'd hope. Why did the Tsaritsa, the only archon named after a saint and willing to take a stand against Celestia, fall out with him? He has reasons to be pissed at her methods but I suspect that won't be the only factor.

All we can do is wait and see.

[mistress-amidala]

𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

❛ ʀᴇᴄᴏɴ ❜

PAIRINGS: Vader x Rebel reader

SYNOPSIS: After a successful mission, things take an... interesting turn.

WARNINGS: Explosions, rebel activity, the Empire...

NOTES: In this AU the Mustafar duel happened but his legs weren't cut off. He still has burns around his legs and further down, not as intensively.

TIMELINE: next

「 Force 」

You stood upon the boulder, detonator in hand. Staring at the weapons manufactory, the stormtroopers filtering in and out. You felt yourself suffering from a crisis of conscience, and couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. These were people responsible for slaughtering innocent civilians, even the ones that followed the regime. They didn’t show mercy, not a sliver of it. So why were you here second guessing yourself about blowing this abomination to the ground? The mission report didn’t require you to evacuate the people inside. But you felt something tugging at your heart. Have they ever hesitated when it came to collateral damage? No…

But you weren’t them, and you didn’t want to be. You held your head up high, grabbing your datapad from your utility belt. Hacking into the Empire’s systems which was surprisingly not as difficult as you thought. ‘That’s what happens when you hire boneheads for IT.’ Shaking your head amused, despite seriousness of the current situation. You set off the evacuation, the alarms started blaring. Flashing red as the factory workers and stormtroopers alike started filling out of the building systematically. Sharing confused looks amongst each other as they made their way to the designated evacuation point. Grabbing your binoculars from your backpack you scanned the building in infrared. After making sure there were no heat signatures left inside. You pressed on the detonator, hearing the click before the building shook. Collapsing in on itself, catching light. Startling the Imperials as they took cover, shouting amongst themselves. Feeling the heat from the explosion reaching you even from your distance. You looked down at them, giving a salute. “For the rebellion,” you whispered. The words being carried in the wind, before turning on your heels. Heading back for your concealed ship. Allowing your footprints to be distorted by the wind, no trace of you left behind. At least you thought.

[ Meanwhile ]

Darth Vader is pulled from his meditation by a tug from the force. His piercing eyes snapping open, a gnawing feeling tearing through his gut. He stood up, his cape following suit. He stepped off the platform in his meditation chamber. Smoothing his hair back out of his face before grabbing his helmet that rested on its designated stand. The cold lenses staring back at him, a constant reminder of who he is now and the responsibilities that came with that. Sliding it over his head once more, hearing it click. Securing its place as the respirator flooded the inside with oxygen, he took a deep breath. Before exhaling, the sound resonating around the room. Giving an even more dramatic tone to his mere presence. He let his heavy arms fall back to his sides. The weight of his worries weighing down his toned shoulders. He took one last deep breath to centre himself, before exiting his mediation chamber. Heading for the war room, as soon as the door of his private chamber slid open. Vader was met face to face, well face to chest. With a lower level officer, sent to fetch him no doubt. To be notified about whatever had happened to cause such a disturbance in the force. The officer spoke up hesitantly, his voice trembling. “I- I’ve been sent to retrieve you, Ad- Admiral Tarkin wishes to see you in the war room.” Vader look down at the man, no older than his early twenties he estimated.

Not much younger than himself, not that he would know that. His mask was worn at all times in public, both the physical and the metaphoric one. So much so that who he was before he’d adorned it was a distant memory now, essentially another life. Without a word, Vader heads to the war room. Leaving the officer frozen in fear in his wake. The soft stomping resounded through the hallways, alerting everyone in earshot of his encroaching presence.

While Vader stalked down the halls of The Executor, his cape the colour of night. Billowing in his wake, the stormtroopers that were making their rounds quickly darted out of his way. The sounds of his respirator echoing through the halls, and ringing in his head. A ringing he’d grown used to, it’d become background noise. While there were many things he hated about the suit. In moments like this, he appreciated the anonymity. Though deep down, in a corner tucked in his mind. He knew that was only part of its purpose. The costraphobic layers, served as a reminded. A reminder of his duty to the Empire, to Sidious. And of the betrayal that led him here, the scars he’d gained in consequence had faded. But still clung to his skin, digging their way into his very soul. What was left of it at least, taunting him. Of what he’d done, who he’d hurt. Betrayed, the lives he’d taken, and those that followed-

“Lord Vader,” the voice of Admiral Tarkin greeted him. His gaze shifted, looking up from his position in the doorway. To the Admiral, his gaze flitting to the projection lit. Exposing the damage to the manufaction plant, the hologram rotating slowly. His body was on autopilot as he stepped closer, analysing the image in front of him. “As you can see, the weapons manufactory plant has been completely levelled. No personnel were lost, an evacuation alert went off prior to the explosion.”

“Who set off the evacuation?” He questioned shortly, his words eerily even.

“Unknown. The perpretrator was able to compromise our systems, initiating the evacuation before the building was destroyed.” Tarkin’s words became a blur to Vader, his mind racing. As he felt that feeling from before tugging at his gut. He continued to stare at the projection, ‘this was a suspected rebel attack. But the MO is different, why evacuate the building if it’s supposed to be a message against the Empire? Why go through the effort of evacuation?’ He thought, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

「 You 」

I watch the ramp to my ship lower, and I took a deep breath. Steadying myself as I walked up the ramp, heading for the control panel so I could get out of this shit show as soon as possible. Something was… different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and that’s what’s worrying me.

I heard the whoosh as the ramp door closed. I start the engine, taking off slowly and steady. Keeping the noise down to a minimum, even though the factory was destroy I didn’t want to push it. After exiting the atmosphere I prepare to jump into hyperspace. I wrap my fingers around the lever, gripping it tightly-

I can’t see anything, blinking rapidly. Suddenly blinded by fluorescent lights, slowly the room comes into focus. Something rotating in front of me, when my eyes focused. It was a blueprint… to the manufacture plant I just blew up. Shivers climb up my spine as I hear a deep inhale, that sounded like a machine… or a man? “Hello little minx,” I jolt in surprise. The voice lingering in my mind.

“What the fuck…” I whisper. My eyes darting around, I’m back in my ship.

dividers: @vibeswithrenai + @chilumitos

taglist 🏷: @rabbitrabbit12321

(lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[animeyanderelover]

Anon: Cordelia, Karlheinz and Richter with a favorite child?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, obsession, possessive behavior, protective behavior, strictness, stalking, isolation, gaslighting

The favorite child

Cordelia Sakamaki

🟣​You are her child. It doesn't matter if she even is your biological mother or not, you are her child. And as your mother she expects you to see her as one too. You have to call her 'mother' and if anything troubles you, you will seek out her. Don't even dare to go to your biological mother if she shouldn't be the one who birthed you. She wouldn't hurt you of course, at least not as much as she has physically hurt and punished any of her other boys, but if she loses her temper she might slap you very hard or pull your ears until it feels like she's about to tear it off. But she will bully, insult and mentally, and occasionally also physically, torture your real mother to the point of insanity. If she has to turn your real mother against you so that you just come running into her arms, she'll gladly do it. You'll eventually realize that she's doing what's best for you because only under her will you truly flourish and reach your full potential.

🟣​Cordelia will train you very strictly to make you as attached to her as possible. You are not allowed to love anyone besides her. You will always be only her baby and child. She's always taking you with her wherever she goes and completely neglects her triplets in favor of you. They aren't allowed to play with you because she deems you as something better, actively gloats about how much superior you are in front of them and spoils you with toys and clothes. You can get away with a lot more than any of her other sons could get but if you dare to go against her and show signs of rebellion, she'll do her best to snuff that spark out as quickly as possible. She'll throw you in a dark and cold room and leave you there until you cry and beg for her to forgive you. She always tells you what might happen if you would ever leave your mother's side and that you might get hurt or in real troubles. She keeps you safe and isolated, away from all things she deems you do not need in your life. You only need her to watch over you after all.

Karlheinz

🍷​He has fathered six children so far and hasn't cared for any of his sons. So he doesn't expect much when you are born, his seventh child, but something about you seems to be different. Karlheinz can't quite put his finger around what it is that makes you different but he wants to satiate his peaking interest in you. He spends a lot more time with you than with his sons, makes time for you and actually cares about how you're raised. If your mother should be abusive or treat you bad in any way, he will punish her or even kill her if she's gone too far. She's disposable but he has to praise her for giving him such a fine child as you. That's about it for her usefullness though. He's starting to educate you from an early age on, one of his favorite activities is probably reading books to you and explaining the world to you. If he can't see you for a longer time, he writes you letters and makes time to read about any letter you send him.

🍷As soon as you're old enough, he permanently takes you with him. From that day on you travel with him everywhere and are only given the finest stuff in the world. He actively makes you forget about your mother, might even erase your memories if you should be too attached. You've grown up with seeing him as a caring and loving father so you never question him or some of the routines in your life. You're terribly isolated despite your thorough education​ and have never had proper social interactions with anyone besides him. You're terribly honest with him and tell him about anything because you've grown up to learn to tell your father everything because he will understand and help you. If you would ever hit a 'difficult' phrase, he wouldn't lash out on you. Instead he would pretend to support you only to manipulate the situation behind your back and break your spirits and morals so that you come back to him. You are his biggest and well hidden treasure, everything he ever wanted in his heir.

Richter

🟩​Richter hasn't been a great uncle for any of his nephews either as he has also neglected them. Only you seem to be an exception for his feelings though as you're from the beginning very clingy and follow him around. It's possibly because your father has never been present in your life nor is your mother very loving and understanding so you cling to the only adult you have left now. Initially he is slightly irritated with the way you follow him like a little duckling around but with time he grows fond of your company. He starts warming up to you and grows less grumpy when with you. On your birthdays you always get a lot of presents from him and he spends a lot of time with you in general to make up for the neglect of your parents. Honestly, he is unable to understand how anyone could just ignore you or even dare to hurt you. You can do absolutely nothing wrong in his eyes and since he knows how the wives of his brother treat their children, he threatens your mother and siblings to not ever hurt you. He'll kill them otherwise.

🟩​You two often spend your time walking around the garden of the mansion with him either holding your tiny hands or carrying you in his arms. His already jealous feelings against his brother only grow worse as he grows obsessed over you and your well-being. How he wished that he could be your real father and not Karlheinz. He's already being much more of a father for you than his brother has ever been to any of his children anyways. If you actually call him 'father' by accident because he really is like a dad for you, Richter might shed a tear or two because it is very emotional for him to hear you call him that. It gets increasingly harder to leave you as he's constantly worried that in his absence the rest of your family might do something to you. He wants you with him all the time. So it isn't surprising when he one day tells you that you'll come with him, lying to you and telling you that both of your parents agreed to it too. With him you'll be so much safer and happier and he'll always protect you against all evil.