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#can't escape your fate
sailforvalinor · 2 years
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Things I will never recover from: on the box art for Melody of Memory, not only is Sora on Kairi's wall of photos a total of three times (as opposed to all of her other friends only appearing once), but each of those photos is the last time that Kairi sees him in KH1, 2, and 3
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inked-out-trees · 9 months
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CHAPTER 3: NON-CONSENSUAL MAGNETISM
Teenage Chris Bean decides he's quite done with life. Fifteen years later, life decides it's not quite done with him.
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hot-head-birb · 1 year
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“Is the coast clear? Master has been too occupied lately...”
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stormyoceans · 1 year
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what are your impression of midnight museum?:) did you like it as a whole? who's your favourite character? what didn't you like?
OH I LOVED MIDNIGHT MUSEUM!!!!!! i mean, okay, let's be honest.. it was an absolute mess and if you asked me to explain what the hell happened in the last two episodes i probably would not be able to do it, BUT STILL!!!!!!! I LOVED IT. sometimes being able to entertain your viewers is more than enough to make a show both memorable and likeable, and i think midnight museum is the perfect example of this
the show is a mixture of fantasy, science fiction and mystery, which are three genres im personally very weak for. the first half also has an episodic nature to it that i miss in television a lot: it can be boring when there isn’t a strong horizontal narrative getting advanced in the background, but if you can make it work it’s really fun for the viewers, and in this particular case i do believe the show was at its strongest when it fully embraced this format. the ‘artifact of the week’ with the enigma of dome’s identity was really entertaining to me, and i loved how creepy and disturbing some of the storylines were. the decision to throw in an abundance of biblical symbolisms as well in the second half of the show probably wasn't a good idea for the plot as a whole, but that's something i find incredibly fascinating so i'd be lying if i said i didn't love every (confusing) second of it
the real strength of the show lies in its cast, though. i already knew that gun and nanon are incredible actors, but i wasn't familiar with tor before midnight museum and i will always be grateful to it for introducing him to me because he is phenomenal. he showed up on that set every single day and decided to give so much yearning longing pining aching worrying agony anguish guilt restraint with the twitch of his mouth alone, and i respect him so much for it. honestly there aren't many people who are able to convey so many emotions in such an effective way. the supporting cast was also pretty solid and some of the guest actors gave an outstanding performance, like fah and tu in episode 5 for example
the other strong point of the show is the relationship between khatha and dome/chan/one. it’s basically on the level of chinese censored gay romance, and even when the writing didn’t give it justice, gun and tor’s on screen chemistry still managed to make it incredibly compelling to watch (an anon once told me that gun would have insane chemistry with literally anyone he got paired with and you know what? I COULDN’T AGREE MORE). the choice of not making their relationship a romantic one does baffle me a little tbh, especially because they were trying to push the brothers agenda while also giving explicitly romantic elements and parallels, but i can easily overlook this since the ending was very satisfying to me (i also don’t think this was queerbaiting btw, but that’s another story)
as for the things i disliked, my main issue with the show is the execution. the premise was original and had a lot of potential, but it’s obvious that the writing team lacked an overall vision of the (overcomplicated) story they wanted to tell: the moment they abandoned the episodic structure to focus on the larger narrative, the events start missing a sense of unity and direction, and the characters feel aimless too. i find every member of the main gang really interesting and likeable, but with the exception of khatha (love that old man btw, he is my absolute fave) they’re all criminally underdeveloped
MDL originally had midnight museum listed as having 15 episodes, and im not sure where did that information come from, but i actually think they did need those 5 extra episodes to make the plot more coherent, give more depth to the characters and explore the relationship between them (we should have had AT LEAST another june focused episode, a couple on triphob and bam and their relationship, one on anthika and boon, and one to let dome gain a little more sense of identity). if we ever get a season 2 they better fix this and fully develop all the characters BEFORE they try to explain what the hell is going on
ANYWAY. TL;DR:
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so many thoughts on the thematic purpose of tianxi's and tianchen's storyline....
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royalphantompain · 4 months
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WELCOME TO OUR DIGITALLY WHIMSICAL ETERNAL PARADE
WHERE WE GOT INFINITE ADVENTURES GAMES AND PARTIES TO PLAY
NO NEED TO FIGHT IT
GET EXCITED
START TO ACCEPT YOUR FATE
YOU'LL BE HERE DAY AFTER DAY AFTER DAY AFTER DAY-
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sevenhundred721 · 9 months
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So funny when people see an item or motif associated with a character’s demise and they associate it with them in a beautiful and poetic way. A thing that makes them fondly remember. It’s kinda like Christ and the crucifix.
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peaktora · 2 months
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𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo
𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.
𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).
a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here
p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!
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"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.
your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”
he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."
clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.
you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.
he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."
“what are y—“
“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”
"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.
he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."
you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"
he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."
two can play that game.
“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.
he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.
or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.
"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.
you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”
you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.
“satoru—”
“what happened to nicknames?”
“satoru.”
"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"
"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."
"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”
"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"
“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”
“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.
his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”
“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”
“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”
you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“
he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“
you tsk, making him drop his excuse.
“wh—“
"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.
you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.
before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.
the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.
“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.
"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."
you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”
“i love you more.”
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ghostgirl101 · 1 month
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I just wanna say that I am SO excited for the part 2 to your Paul Destiny fic. I have so many questions and Im excited to see if they get answered. Like if Paul is pledging his love to the reader then is the romance plot with Chani still relevant? Is the reader still the princess here? Very interesting
Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅱ of Ⅱ
|| Word Count: 1.7K || Fluff ||
A/N: Honestly, I didn't think this would blow up so much- 1k+ likes??! Thank you all, it's sick 🙃 in answer to your questions, I didn't really specify if the reader (you) are part of a Great House or the Emperor's daughter, or maybe someone else, that's kind of up to your imagination. And yeah, sorry Chani fans, I kind of kicked her to the curb lmao; This is all about you, and so enjoy the second and final part of this destiny trope before I work on some relationship headcanons for Paul and Feyd-Rautha... Requests are open for Dune 2, so don't be shy 📩
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You can't escape fate.
It's as real as the Spice that threads through the grains of sand blanketing Arrakis in heavy, warm golden waves. It twists and turns in the air, in the tides of change, something beyond understanding roping together reality and its lives to bond, whether in love or hate.
At least, with the newly ascended young Emperor, you know which side you're on. Since the day of his declaration and claiming of you as his Empress, you've never once left his sight, unknowingly or not. The boy is almost ridiculously close and observant, as if testing the depths of the events unfolding around him, testing to see whether you'll try to run from them, from him. But you can't run from fate, either.
"You aren't resting."
Paul's soft, low voice slices through the silence of the dusk, the only words you hear before you feel his warm, firm arms slipping under your arms and around your middle, pulling you into his front in a smooth, protective motion. His chocolate brown locks tickle your neck and cheek as he gazes up at you from your shoulder; wandering, curious eyes study yours knowingly, his natural hues tainted blue with the Spice.
"What troubles you?"
You hesitate in your response, unsure of the right thing to say. There's no point in lying, not to him, to a boy who could easily use the power of his Voice to make you tell him everything and anything with just a few words. He's done it to the Bene Gesserit, to those who speak out of turn and challenge him cluelessly, but never to you. And something tells you that he never will.
"I'm sorry," is how you answer instead, in a small whisper, trying to read his expression before his reaction.
But all Paul does is give you one of his soft, amused smirks, a brow raising slightly, unconvinced.
"Don't apologise to anyone for anything," he murmurs, his fingers drifting to lock with yours, his hand hot and strong in yours. "We are to be wed, you and I, soon. So what troubles you?"
"It's not you," you tell him as earnestly as you can, his eyes capturing yours and holding them as you blink up at him. "I'm just... nervous."
"Nervous?" Paul repeats gently, his hands squeezing yours for a moment, his face an inch away from yours. "What have you to be nervous about?" He grins slightly, not attempting to hide his teasing amusement. "A wedding?"
You can't help but smile at his tone, savouring the unguarded moments of the new, young Emperor, his boyish traits lingering beneath the newfound power and promises passed down to him.
You were nervous, because you weren't so familiar with destiny and its quirks, and yet, Paul Atreides seemed to be its master. Nervous, because although there was a strange pull between you and him, a deeper part of you somehow knowing him, at an instinctive ease with him, you had never met him before these past few days, and now, you were going to be joined together for time indefinite by marriage. Nervous, because he didn't just want you to rule with him, but alongside him, as a partner, a second part of him. His second half who's with him in soul, not just spirit, physically, not just mentally. And he's relishing in it.
"I've never had one before," you shake your head with a light smile, "I don't know what to expect. Or what's expected of me."
Paul hums to himself at your reply, pausing for a while as he thinks over his words.
"It isn't just a wedding," he tells you quietly, "it's so much more. This... this a beginning. A new dawn."
"Beginning?" You echo in bemusement, looking up at him in wonder. "Of what?"
"Of a new era," Paul says thoughtfully, his hands moving from yours to run over and down your sides, tracing over your figure absentmindedly, a gesture that makes you hold your breath for a beat as you watch him, "the first of many. You are more than a mere future. You're the future. My future. And the future of my people."
The sincerity and conviction in his voice makes you stare back at him in slight awe, taken by his certainty of what he's seen in the deepest stretches of his mind, the flickering images of you, adorned in all your natural beauty and grace that he could find nothing short of perfect. You were a fantasy and a hope materialised. Someone he'd wished and dreamed for so much, that you came true, just as you should have.
"Anything that happens to you," Paul continues, looking you straight in the eye as he speaks, "happens to me. You have always been mine, and I was yours before then. Absolutely and completely."
And his words make a home in your head, everything he says so poetic and beautifully surreal, but so honest and unwaveringly confident. He didn't need to practise what he said before he whispered the sweet words in your ear, in a voice only you could catch, in the long, warm nights on Arrakis. There was no need for practice. He had been made for this, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
You let yourself relax slightly in his grips, giving him an earnest smile. "That sounds nice."
Paul smiles back at you, a bright, sweet smile that makes him seem so soft and normal, almost forgetting for a moment of his utter strength and glory over the planets, his dangerous darkness that he occasionally allowed to rule over his actions at the tensest of times, until those who stood up against him retreated in bewilderment and fascination and fear.
"It does," he agrees, his gaze dropping to look out at the dunes beyond you, "you can't imagine..."
You couldn't. But every part of you wanted to. And those parts won.
"Won't you tell me?"
Paul's attention shifts back to you after you speak, before you can stop yourself.
"Would it be kind to tell you?" He asks aloud, speaking half to himself as his eyes go to search yours again, studying every inch of you, almost unsettlingly intently.
"Do you dream?" Paul questions you softly, and you dither before shaking your head.
"Not like you do," you answer steadily.
"Like I do. Seeing your face amidst the streaks of sunbeams and every kind of ethereal power that could create wonders, planets, worlds. Waking up, and you're not here, though it felt so real," he goes on, his voice laced with longing, as if it pained him to remember the feeling. "Realer than I've ever felt anything before. Every sense in me was awakened, because with destiny, I saw hope. And I did not know that hope could be so.... beautifully... angelic."
Paul draws closer and closer with each word, pulled by invisible strings to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a long moment to breathe, breathe you in. The sight of it is almost dizzyingly hypnotic, staring at the little scattered freckles over his fair, lightly tanned skin, cheeks flushed golden. He moves his face to rub his cheek against yours, seeking out affection in an irresistible rare, vulnerable move. Your hand reaches up to brush your fingers against it, and he takes it in his immediately, pressing his lips against your fingertips as he speaks.
"I need you," Paul insists, his voice firm and pressing again as he stares at you with a spark of desperation. "I need only you. More than you can comprehend. By my side, always, where you belong."
"I'm right here," you reply a little giddily, looking away from his eyes slightly bashfully from the intensity and unbridled longing of his gaze. "I suppose I'm just not used to this."
"To what?" Paul questions, his fingers tilting your chin up softly to force your eyes back up to his, his face a little closer than before. "To being an Empress?"
Before you can respond, he's pushed himself closer over you, his warm, damp lips sliding and pressing against yours and parting to encourage you to deepen his affections. It sends hot shockwaves rushing straight through your blood, as Paul crouches over you, all patience and purpose forgotten in the moment where it's just the two of you in the calm, lingering desert night.
You fit together perfectly, too perfectly for his words to be untrue, and his head tilts keenly where your fingers skim his neck, his lips parting from yours as they tangle in his hair with a short gasp. He loses none of his confidence and persistence, his azure blue eyes a shade darker as he watches you with an open trace of adoration.
"A queen?"
"Paul," you start shakily, as he smirks at you fondly, his head ducking to trace his tongue briefly up the skin of your neck, with a faint chuckle.
"To being desired?"
You glare at him weakly, hanging onto his hands tight to find some sense of grounding. "You're just playing with me."
"I intend to do so much more than that," Paul grins at you, kissing your cheek before burying his face against your shoulder. "And so should you. Test the depths of our connection. Push it to its limits. Push me. Please."
You find yourself speechless again at his way with words, simple and truthful, but full of passion and unthought romance, a sensation he's been craving since the first shadows of your being in his hazy dreams and visions.
"Give into your destiny, sweet girl," he croons to you in a whisper, his lips brushing against yours and pressing down against your skin needily, hungrily. It takes almost inhumane strength not to crumble and shiver under his touch and desire radiating off him and his dark glare, the wanting over years of dreams and prophecies building up to its peak. "Give into me."
"I think I will," you whisper back in awe and giddiness, your arms having to hold tightly around his neck to stay upright. "I think I want to."
"That's good," he praises you with a soft smile, as his voice lowers. "And besides," Paul mutters in your ear, nuzzling against your cheek breathlessly, with that subtle, teasing look in his eyes, "I plan on taking you as mine well before the wedding."
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Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @minaxcarter @milaeth @ennycutie @weird0o0 @aoi-targaryen @jindongdongie
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Would Rincewind from Discworld survive Castle Dracula?
I've got multiple asks apiece for Sam Vimes and Moist von Lipwig, but HECK YES I wanna talk about Rincewind!
If Rincewind knows one thing, it's when to run away from a bad situation. The Dead travel fast but Rincewind is faster. Rincewind does not want to be here. Nobody nopes like him. At the very first red flag Rincewind is RinceOUT.
...unfortunately Fate hates him. Inevitably, he ends up sheltering for the night... at Castle Dracula.
(Re: the crucifix, "for your mother's sake" is unlikely to move him, since she ran away before he was born. But Rincewind doesn't shave - he needs his beard, he has too little as it is!)
Rincewind is a coward by birth, upbringing and vocation. He is pretty good at convincing people not to kill him and he usually looks too pathetic to be worth the bother. He is not at all good at convincing people not to force him into heroic roles that he absolutely does not want. But staying alive is pretty much his speciality.
Rincewind is afraid of perfectly ordinary women - he is terrified of the Girlies, and is just as good at running from them screaming as Jonathan is. Better, arguably. I don't think anyone has ever said "I too can love" about him though, and I don't think anyone is going to. Dracula may not rescue him from the Girlies ... but he gets lucky and escapes them somehow.
Fate may hate him, but the Lady think he's her specialist little guy. Rincewind's luck is extraordinary.
And that's the clincher for me. Rincewind is Fate's chewtoy and DEATH's hobby, but he is the champion of an actual literal god, and She is going to pull him through kicking and screaming.
For anyone asking why he doesn't try magic, magic is not going to help him because he's real bad at it. Dracula is an objectively better wizard than he is, and I honestly don't know how this informs their relationship.
...oh man if Dracula takes his hat he's gonna be so mad. So mad.
His one biggest hurdle is going to be the wall due to his crippling fear of grounds. But I think the Lady will have his back on this one, so when he accidentally trips and falls out the window he'll have no choice but to climb. He'll hate ever second of it. But once he makes it down, the Jon-a-Thon is precisely what he's best at.
I sadly don't think Dracula's library is extensive enough to allow him to access L-space.
I do think Rincewind would try to fight Dracula with a half-brick in a sock over the baby steal. Rincewind loves kids and gets occasional bouts of heroism in spite if himself. But the door is locked and he can't get out of his room.
I am fudging this a bit, but I do not believe the Lady will let him die if it can be avoided through sheer dumb luck. And so therefore Rincewind the Wizzard can survive Castle Dracula, but would vastly prefer not to have to
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bigfatbreak · 1 month
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I found your MLP AUs and I need more please😭
How does Twilight deal with the other baddies that come along since she's not the element of magic, technically? Does she still get her crystal castle in ponyville? What about Tyrek (I forgot his name but basically the bad guy that can suck magic)
She's still the element of magic. It's written across her skin and in her DNA, she legitimately can't escape her fate no matter what happens to her.
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Species doesn't matter when it comes to the magic of friendship, after all. It wrankles Discord something awful that changing into a species known for their chaos-leaning magic is still part of the elements of harmony, gross
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sukunasteeth · 1 month
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Marks
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Sukuna doesn't understand the hold you have on him.
He's never particularly been a people person. In fact, people annoyed him. This has held true ever since he was a child with his twin brother, Yuji. That is, until Yuji brought you home one fateful day in middle school, claiming to have met a new friend. 
You, with your sweet little smile, and your boundlessly generous heart. You with your giggle that chimes through his darkened soul like a golden bell. With the innocent rosy lips that he'd dreamed of having his first kiss with until high school, when it finally came to fruition. You had been irrevocably his ever since then, and it had been almost seven years.
So why does it still feel like you're the one with all the power here?
Why does it feel like you could create a monster out of him if you truly wanted to? Why does it feel like he's constantly at your beck and call? Why are you the one person on this green earth that reduces him to the feeling of an emotion as pathetic as helplessness?
"'Kuna...hurts..."
He'll admit, he takes it out on you.
Like now, when you're lying naked beneath him (his favorite spot to have you in) and begging him to take it easy on you. He's got you covered in sweat, exerting you to your ultimate limit. He loved to see you train until failure, after all. Adored the way your legs quivered when he relentlessly made you keep riding him, despite your exhaustion. Cooed at the way you begged him to be gentle, even though he knows you prefer it rough. You were quick to submit when he had you behind closed doors, despite how independent you appeared outside of them. Sukuna knew you better. Knew how much you loved following his direction. Receiving his praise.
You were lucky you were such a good girl.
Sukuna was torturing you now already, and you hadn't even disobeyed him. He can't imagine what he would do if you were unruly. Actually, he can. And the thought has him salivating even more as he sucks relentlessly at the nape of your neck. You're covered in marks from his teeth or the raw scrape of his tongue. Your throat has been tormented by his worship to the extent that he's even broken skin in the spots where he can feel your pulse beneath his lips.
Even Sukuna has to admit that you didn't deserve this abuse. You hadn't done a thing out of line, besides selfishly tearing the heart out of his chest for good. It was yours now.
The thought makes him growl against you.
God, you weren't even trying.
Your victory over him was so effortless.
It pissed him off.
He doesn't realize that he's bitten you particularly hard until you're suddenly recoiling away, burrowing yourself into his pillows with a small yelp. Your hand has sprung up to press your palm over Sukuna's mouth in some weak attempt at getting him to stop. Your other hand holds your throat as you purse your lips at him, which have also seen a good amount of Sukuna's biting that day.
You looked good in his teeth marks, what can he say?
"Are you mad or something?" You're blinking up at him like a confused little deer. Sukuna can't help that it makes him hungry. You were a perfect prey to him and he would be chasing you to the end of this lifetime. He could tell solely in the way that your stupid little nickname for him makes his heartstrings snap.
He takes a frustrated breath through his nose over your hand, nipping at your fingers over his mouth like a muzzled dog. Before you can pull them away, he's grasping your wrist tightly, his unforgiving grip a warning in itself. Easily, he pins it to the side of your head, rendering you halfway useless.
"Don't interrupt." He murmurs, his gaze burning into yours.
A helpless sob escapes you, but otherwise you stop trying to squirm away from him. You allow the onslaught to continue without a peep, bracing yourself each and every time a new hickey is being bruised into your skin. He doesn't offer you any words in terms of praise, but his grip on your wrist eventually loosens a bit. He never fully lets you go, though.
While he appreciates your cooperation, you eventually go almost too quiet and Sukuna thinks for a moment that maybe he's pushed you too far. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, finding your pink little face screwed up in an intense mixture of pleasure and agony. He feels a content smile spread across his face but it's cut short when his eyes hone in on your lips, which you're currently biting hard enough to draw blood from.
His free hand reaches up and grasps your chin, pressing his thumb below your bottom lip and forcing you to relinquish it. You blink slowly, your logical brain having exhausted itself up until this point. You easily let him pry your teeth apart, panting in his grasp. 
"Mouth. Open." He commands.
You squirm in your overwhelming frustration, whining. "It hurts, 'Kuna!"
Sukuna hums in a mock sympathy, watching you suffer with a satisfied grin. You would have these marks for weeks. There were so many now, some more intense than others, and he wasn't even close to being done with you.
"You're being cruel." You accuse, watching your own hardship twinkle back at you in the reflection of his eyes. Your pout is purple and bruised from your attempts to keep quiet. Sukuna leans in closer and presses the sweetest kiss to your lips, as soft as the brush of a feather.
What was cruel was the fact that you had broken down everything Sukuna had ever known about himself. His strength was putty at your feet. His hatred for the world was a joke in your presence. His pride, a mere memory at the touch of your fingertips against his soul.
"You think this is cruel?" He whispers, mocking you. His voice is the taunt of a devilish trickster. "I think I've been going too easy on you. Allow me to rectify that."
There really is no curse more cruel than love.
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kamaluhkhan · 4 months
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anti-curse
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pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader
summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.
warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3
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when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.
given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.
archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.
so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner. 
“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”
the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.
that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.
you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank. 
if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it. 
you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations. 
“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”
the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”
"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined." 
percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”
leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.
you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.
“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”
“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.
“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”
“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.
"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.
"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.
"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."
"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.
"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"
you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."
"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."
"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.
"that's...that's different."
"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"
you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.
"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.
"then what did you mean?"
percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”
“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”
percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition. 
“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.
“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes. 
her conclusion makes you freeze.
demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were. 
what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.
you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.
you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?
either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.
without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze. 
“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.
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Astarion has so much guilt about victims like Sebastián because he had no excuse for targeting them beyond wanting to feel good, himself, and get some comfort for an evening.
I'll elaborate
No matter what, he HAS to try to bring back a victim. This is the order, and yeah he railed against it a few times and tried to escape/refuse but it's quickly shown that he gets that beaten out of him
So, who does he usually target? Easy prey. Drunks, brothel-goers, idiots. His words. He brings back people that are easier to catch, won't be missed, ect. But what is the reality of having to do that?
- Victims who are unwashed, sometimes to the extreme
- Victims who are physically and verbally abusive
- Victims who are esthetically unappealing/unattractive to him, sometimes to the extreme
- Shitfaced drunk victims who have all the appeal of your average shitfaced drunk
Then there were the unlucky, these would be neutral victims that he probably felt suffered the same fate of wrong place wrong time, like getting crushed by a falling air conditioning unit except it's getting brought back to Cazador.
But "then there were a few Sebastians"
His type. Soft, sweet, innocent. Genuinely interested in him. Caring. Beautiful. A victim that Astarion could actually pretend with, if only for a night. Where he could fake being on a real date, where he could dream of being free to make his own choices.
And by doing this, by targeting THESE people, he knows he's murdering them just for a brief chance at an encounter that serves him slightly. He's trading their entire lives for an evening away from his own torment.
He can rationalize the deaths of theives, beggars, predators, rapists, drunks,slobs, Because he dehumanizes them or judges them as not being worth a life (or having much of a life) anyway.
But those sweet moments where he got to play pretend? He can't excuse himself. He can't. He knows what he's done. He knows exactly what he's done and how he's ruined someone who otherwise would have or COULD have otherwise had a beautiful life. Been a good person, contributed to the world. He traded that for a brief, brief respite from his own personal hell.
No wonder he wanted to kill all the Spawn down there. No wonder he didn't want to face it. Because can you judge a dagger for being used to murder someone? No, you judge the wielder. He could easily have written off so many of them as him just being Cazadors dagger.
It's the ones he chose.
Those ones are the crux of his guilt.
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ioniiaa · 3 months
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My Darling, My Honey
Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 2)
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Part 1 | Part 2
Quick Notes:
This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)
Reader is an artist/painter.
Part 2:
Every day and night you had to stay trapped at home, it felt like nails on a chalkboard after that one fateful meeting that night.
The only thing that made the time bearable was the radio. Alastor told you he hosted a radio show. As so, you soon became one of his most loyal listeners. Anything to relive the moment when you felt like a person again.
So when the night finally came, that you could escape to Mimzy's establishment the next town over, you were over the moon at the chance to see Alastor again.
Luckily for you, your husband was going to be away for a week this time.
That night, you made it to the bar a bit later than usual, you had to be extra sure that it was safe to leave town unnoticed after a close call of almost being discovered by some relatives that lived nearby.
When you enter the bar, you hear some piano music. It wasn't unusual for Mimzy to invite musicians or let patrons play some music at the piano that resides in the bar, as long as they didn't get boo'ed off the stage. But this music stirred something in your soul, making you hurry into the bar.
It was Alastor.
You gasp, your heart beating a million miles a minute. You were so drawn to him. In this moment, the jazzy music that filled the air and filled up all the holes in your heart. You were captivated. So captivated, that you forgo greeting Mimzy and the bar entirely, in favor of walking over to Alastor at the piano.
He gives you a surprised look before smiling and immersing himself in the music once more.
You smile back and you can't help but sing along to Alastor's piano playing. The song was a classic, and also one your personal favorites.
As you sing, you sit down on the piano bench next to him. You notice he doesn't open his eyes, but the smile on his face deepens as your duet continues.
When your song comes to an end, it feels like you came back down to earth. The bar erupted in applause, the embarrassment flushing your whole face pink. You look over to Alastor who's looking at you with such a warm expression.
"My dear, what a lovely voice you have. Your talents truly seem boundless. I am quite surprised you knew that song."
You spend the rest of the night tucked away in a private corner talking with Alastor about all sorts of things, interests, likes, dislikes, deep conversations about life, and even your fears. But never once did you mention your home life, you'd rather die than let Alastor find out. The last thing you need is for him to treat you differently.
When you mention you listened to his every show ever since the night that you first met, his eyes light up and something in him clicked. He took your chin gently in his hand and brought your face closer to his, "Oh my, I have never met a finer woman with even finer tastes in entertainment~" which caused your heart to flutter like never before.
The tension and feelings between the two of you were palpable. It was clear to the rest of the bar that the two of you were smitten with each other, something akin to love at first sight. You tow were inexplicably drawn to each other.
You wish you didn't have to leave and go back home. But you knew you had to get home before dawn, even if you were going to come back the next day/night anyway. Relatives and in-laws usually liked to stop by unannounced and if they found the house empty, you'd be in for a world of punishment and pain. It happened once, and you would rather not relive that experience ever again.
So even though it pained you greatly, you had to say goodbye to Alastor. As you stood up to leave, Alastor's hand still held yours, you could tell he was reluctant to let you leave. Very rarely did he have the chance to enjoy such cultured and lovely conversation. With a sad and somber expression, you walked away, his hand slowly sliding out of yours.
"I hope you come back to me, ma chérie ..."
-> Part 3
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voonroo · 3 months
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PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE NO ONE HAS DONE ADAM WITH A READER 🙏🙏🙏
so like basically you could be an angel or a sinner but you caught the eye of adam and lucifer what would they do 🤔🤔
How Eye-Catching~
⌐‣Adam x Angel Reader + Lucifer x Sinner Reader REQ
Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎
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AUTHOR’S NOTE: I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. This is actually my first time writing for both Adam and Luci😭 LMK WHAT YOU THINK ANON MY INBOX ISNT OPEN FOR ONLY REQUESTS WE CAN CHAT TOOOOOO
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Adam x Angel Reader
This man-angel is the embodiment of sass, I'm convinced he's leading the sassy man apocalypse.
So for you to catch his eye? Let's be honest, he probably thought you would be fun to mess with.
He would skip out on his duties just to annoy you.
If you give him a reaction regarding his remarks, he will continue to make question your life choices.
If you don't give him any reaction whatsoever, he will dramatically declare something along the lines of- “Wow! You're so mean for an angel~ y’know– I'm like, pretty well known here in heaven…”
His trying to annoy you half of the time turns into him boasting about himself.
It takes the outside intervention of Lute, who, after realizing Adam abandoned his responsibilities again, goes out to hunt for him.
And when she finds him trying to rizz you up and harass you— it's pretty damn obvious.
Going based on what reactions you give him, Adam will change up his pick up lines and shit.
It's kinda sickening in a ‘I'm trying to be actually nice to someone’ kind of way.
It takes Lute having a talk with him for Adam to realize how far gone he is.
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Lucifer x Sinner Reader
You're just another damned sinner in this place— *cut to Lucifer with heart eyes*
Yeah, good luck with him. He's so fucking awkward.
It would be the smallest things about you that would catch his eye.
He would probably be taking a stroll down the streets only for you to pass by him and his head just follows.
He won't even talk to you the first time he sees you, now the same can't be said about the second.
The second time he sees you, he takes it as a sign of fate, and he should talk to you. About what? Haha! Funny question. He's stumbling over his words until he remembers he's the king of hell and has a reputation to uphold.
He would either ask or find your socials. for the sake of him, you probably have sinsta
He’d reach out through there. Chat with you daily, whenever he has the time really, and oh! Did he show you his latest duck?
Yup. There's no escaping it. You are now the first person to see his latest ducks through a shaky facetime and if you don't give them a compliment then he cries when you hang up the phone.
He lies to himself at first. Pulling the ‘Oh we are the bestest of friends!’
Well Lucifer the “bestest of friends” doesn't have one of them secretly pining for the other like a lost puppy looking for its owner.
It takes a chat with Charlie for him to realize, and even then he's still denying it.
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Word Count: 464
Inbox is open
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