#off-screen slaughter/death

[hummingbird-of-light]

June of Doom Day 15

15. “Please.” 

| Blindfold | Pressure Points | Scream |

TW: MATURE CONTENT! slave auction, humans as products, threats of slaughter, threats of violence, threats of major character death, off-screen slaughter/death, psychological whump, naked character, description of slaughter

A/N: Based on my one-shot collection

~

"Sold to the beautiful lady in blue!"

The voice of the auctioneer reached his ears and Scotty's eyes opened wide. He shook his head in panic.

No, no, no! Anything but this! Please...

He still wasn't too sure about how he had ended up on this stage. His landing party had been kidnapped by slave traders and the Enterprise hadn't been able to find them.

His crewmates had been killed, trying to escape, so all he had been able to do was wait. Wait for his friends. Wait for someone to find and save him.

But no one had come.

And then this auction had started. Two people had bidden for him.

A man who wanted him to work under horrible conditions... and a woman who planned something even worse.

The lady was the owner of a restaurant and apparently she had a favor for exotic delicacies. And her next big success on the menu was supposed to be Scott.

A bright smile crossed the alien woman's face as she ordered two members of her staff onto the stage to grab the chains, attached to the Scotsman.

They made their way through the crowd, the buyer leading the small group, and Scotty tried his best to pull at the chains.

He had to break free! He had to get away!

His screams and whimpers were muffled by the gag in his mouth. No one seemed to care for his fear or panic though.

He heard some people asking the woman when first orders could be made. He saw their longing eyes on him so he closed his own eyes and tried his best to block out their voices.

He couldn't hear this. Or else he'd throw up which was a bad idea with a gag in his mouth.

The woman and her minions brought the engineer to a shuttle where he was thrown into a single cell.

While the men started the shuttle, the lady stayed with him. Her eyes shone brightly as she reached through the bars with her hand and once again ran her long fingers across his cheek. She had done so before to check his skin, claiming that it was soft and of great quality.

"I can't wait to try a piece of you myself," she said and Scotty backed away as far as he could. The cell wasn't too big.

His breathing was quick and he felt his heart racing horribly. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to have a heart attack so that he wouldn't have to meet this horrible fate consciously. He could only hope for it.

He closed his eyes once again, sending a silent pray to whoever would hear him.

'Help me. Please.'

++++++++

When the shuttle landed and they reached their point of destination, Scotty felt sick to his stomach.

The lady, who apparently was called Miss Farie, if he had heard the name right from the staff, led them out of the shuttle to a transporter. The back of the vehicle was big enough for five to ten persons, but apparently Scott had been the only purchase the woman had made that day.

"Take a look at this beautiful planet. It will be the last thing you see," one of the staff joked and Scotty couldn't help but follow the order.

He looked around. The planet really was gorgeous. There were lots of plants and flowers, but in the distance, Scott could make out a town.

He swallowed.

He'd die in that town, served to the inhabitants of this planet as delicacy.

Before he could say or do anything, a blindfold was wrapped around his head. He couldn't see anything through the dark piece of cloth.

Scotty winced and whimpered, when the door was closed and the vehicle started.

He was a lamb on the way to the slaughter. Nothing more.

++++++++

He could smell various scents when the backdoor of the transporter was opened again and he knew that they were near the restaurant.

Strong arms pulled him out of the car and he almost stumbled when they started to pull him along.

He wanted to cry, but there were no more tears left to do so. All hope was lost.

"Oh, fresh goods? That thing looks delicious," he heard a female voice and the voice of Miss Farie answered.

"I bought it in an auction just today. If you just wait a bit, I'm sure you can have one of the first pieces."

Scotty shuddered at the dialogue. He wasn't a piece of meat! He was a human being!

"Sounds great. I'll keep it in mind."

At the end of the conversation, the Scotsman was forced to move once again.

His feet got heavier with each step and he tried his best to stop walking, but the men were too strong. They simply dragged him along.

"Put it in the cell over there. We'll get it ready to be served right away," Miss Farie ordered and Scotty heard her heels on the ground as she stepped away.

He was put in a small cell once again, but this time he could hear noises around him.

There were more people. Other species waiting for their horrible end.

Doors were opened, followed by the sound of staff members dragging the others away.

Scotty was trembling. He didn't want this! He didn't want to die!

And suddenly there were voices. One belonged to Miss Farie, but the other?

Scotty knew it. It was just so familiar, but at first, he couldn't say whom it belonged to.

Only when Miss Farie said a name, the engineer's blood turned cold as ice.

"There it is, Mr. Singh. As you can see, it is in a good shape."

Mr. Singh. Scotty's heart skipped a beat.

Khan! The male voice belonged to Khan Noonien Singh. The augment who had killed Jim three years ago. The augment who had been put back to cryo-sleep after his trial. How could he be here?

So many questions filled Scotty's mind, however, he had other problems at the moment.

"It does look... delicious, I have to admit."

Fear mixed with anger. Of course Khan would use his chance to get revenge. Of course he'd have a piece of him - a fillet piece if possible.

"Why the blindfold?" Khan's voice sounded disgustingly interested. He was enjoying this a lot.

"Oh, I am a generous woman, Mr. Singh. I do not want my goods to see their demise. And... maybe I'm a bit selfish too, because I don't like to see that sad look in its eyes. A lady can only take so much."

"Of course."

Scotty tried to pull at his chains, but failed horribly. There was no way out.

"If you agree, I'd really like to see how the dish is prepared."

Khan had stepped closer to the cell; Scott could hear it. There was a malicious undertone in his voice. It sent shivers down the Scotsman's spine.

"Of course, Mr. Singh. Anything for Lady Freymis' partner. I wanted to wait a bit longer to change the menu, but if you insist... Remis, Harlock - come here."

Miss Farie's order was followed by steps. Two people joined their boss and Khan.

"Let's give Mr. Singh a tour, show him around."

The door to the cell was opened and Scotty was dragged out once again.

The more he tried to resist, the harder they pulled at him. He couldn't do anything, but follow them.

"First of all, we clean the goods. We use a special type of water which kills off any bacteria. On top of that, it makes the flesh juicier."

Scotty felt the staff members rip off his clothes. Blood rushed to his cheeks, once he was standing there, naked, freezing.

Only a moment later his body was wet. They showered him. From head to toe.

Tears mixed with water. Apparently they had found its way out again. Scotty cried and a soft wail escaped his mouth.

For weeks he had wished to take a hot shower, but not like this. Not to be slaughtered afterwards.

"I see. This way you make sure that the flesh isn't contaminated."

Scotty could hear the grin in Khan's voice. This was way too much fun for him.

"Yes, that's right. Next up, we anoint the body with a special mixture of oil and seasonings. This gives the meat a special taste."

The water stopped and Scott was dragged over to what felt like a cold operating table. They forced him to lie down on his stomach, chaining him to it somehow.

What followed next, was the most horrible massage he could imagine.

"We keep it alive for this step, because the mixture soaks in better this way," Miss Farie explained, running a hand across Scotty's bare back.

"After a few minutes, we end the procedure as quick and gentle as possible. We chop off the head. The most painless method."

Once again, Scotty shook his head.

"No... please..."

His words were muffled by the gag, but he still tried to get them out.

"So, this is it. The dish can be served any moment now."

He was no food! He was no piece of meat!

"Very interesting. Thank you for showing me, Miss Farie."

"It was my pleasure." The owner of the restaurant sounded quite pleased. She had had her fun with this tour.

"Now... I would like to buy this human."

"Of course, Mr. Singh. What piece would you like? Belly meat, ribs, loin?"

Khan's next words were the biggest yet most wonderful surprise to Scotty.

"No, you don't understand. I want to buy it. Alive."

A strange spark of hope glimmed in the engineer's heart once more. He didn't understand Khan's reasons, but that didn't matter at the moment. All he needed was to get out of this place.

However, the hope was soon enough destroyed by Miss Farie's insecure chuckle.

"Mr. Singh, please. I can't do that. This delicacy is worth a million. My customers will pay a lot for just a tiny bit of meat."

"I understand that, Miss Farie, however, I have a better offer to make."

Khan's voice sounded quite confident. Whatever that offer was, he seemed to be sure that Miss Farie wouldn't say no to it.

"Oh really? And what would that be?"

"If you leave this beautiful tidbit to me," a hand ran through Scotty's hair and he shivered at the touch, "then I'll deliver you as many humans as you want. And... something even more exotic."

Scotty gasped in shock. He knew what Khan was talking about, what he was planning.

"What would be more exotic than a human?" Miss Farie didn't sound too convinced. But that changed once she heard Khan's answer.

"A Vulcan."

Scotty shook his head.

No! No! Not his crew! Not his family!

"A Vulcan?"

"All I need is this human and I'll make you the richest woman on this whole planet."

There was a long moment of silence. Scotty could feel the tension in the room.

But eventually, Miss Farie talked again.

"How can I trust you?"

"First of all, you know my partner. If you don't trust me, then she'll be very disappointed and we won't come back again. And secondly... I'll pay you an advance of 1,500,000."

Scotty's heart beat out of his chest. He didn't want to endanger his crew, but... he didn't want to end up on someone's plate either.

"All right. We have a deal, Mr. Singh."

Relief washed over the Scotsman when he heard Miss Farie's decision.

He would live!

"You won't regret your choice."

After asking to stow the purchase in Khan's car, the augment left the room. Scotty didn't know where he was going, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

His body stiffened at the fingers running down his back again and at the voice whispering next to his ear.

"It's really a pity. But I guess, today's your lucky day."

With that Miss Farie left, heels clacking on the floor.

"Get it dressed again. Our special on the menu will have to wait."

A door closed and Scotty knew that he was saved. Now he'd just have to survive Khan and stop his plan. 

++++++++

Two months later they found him. His crew managed to save him, not falling for any of Khan's traps. And even though Scotty was the happiest man in the whole universe, he'd never forget the horrors he'd been through.

#juneofdoom #june of doom #day 15 #whump #whump challenge #please #blindfold #star trek #fanficfion #montgomery scott #khan noonien singh #alien oc #read warnings #slave auction #humans as products #threats of slaughter #threats of violence #threats of major character death #off-screen slaughter/death #psychological whump #description of slaughter/process

[aviawrites]

the rage of a harkonnen (dune: part two)

pairings: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fem!Reader

summary: The Emperor’s second born daughter, Harauna, has never been truly seen by her father; Her light always being dimmed by the shine of her older sister, Irulan. As Maud’Dib continues fighting on Arrakis and her father’s spot falls farther into jeopardy, Princess Harauna sees an opportunity to finally find her place in the Imperium…Wife of the possible Emperor, ruling alongside Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. (3.9k)

a/n: i’ve already seen this movie twice and i’m going again😛 austin’s performance is so compelling, i couldn’t take my eyes off of him whenever he was on screen. i hope you all liked feyd-rautha as much as i do…otherwise i may be crazy. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: blood, death, abuse

in this story, yn is: Harauna Corrino (Harkonnen)

10191 // month 1 // 📍kaitan 

“Paul Atreides is not our only prospect.” Reverend Mother Mohiam reveals, standing before you and your sister. “The Baron’s youngest nephew, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, will inherit Arrakis. He may be the answer.”

Your eyes open wide, the name itself sending shivers down your spine. You, along with all of your family, knew of Feyd-Rautha - Knew of the Sadistic Harkonnen, known for slaughtering anyone who challenges him, even his own people. 

“Feyd-Rautha?” Irulan furrows her brows, “He’s psychotic.”

“That’s irrelevant. The question is…can we control him?” 

You stare up at the Reverend Mother’s black veil, an idea striking you.  

Since a child, it’s always been Princess Irulan - The Emperor’s daughter. Irulan will inherit the thrones, Irulan will marry Paul Atreides, Irulan will rule the empire. Never once has your father taken the time to look at you. Never once has he asked the Reverend Mother how you are as a Bene Gesserit. If he did, he’d come to learn that you’re just as equipped to take on the role of Empress as your sister. 

You know what you know - You know how impossible it is to ever be worthy of attention in your father’s eyes. The sound of marrying the prince, possibly the future Emperor, doesn’t seem distasteful. Is he a terrible man, yes. May he turn out to be a worse husband, yes. But God forgive you if you choose being the possible ruler of the empire over being second best. 

“I will marry Feyd-Rautha…” You suggest, coming out as more of a squeak. 

Their eyes dart to yours, Irulan’s gaze feeling more like knives piercing your head.

“Young Harauna-“

“No.” Your sister interjects, turning your body toward hers. “Are you crazy? Feyd-Rautha is the last man you need to marry.”

“Irulan, I want to.” You push back, your voice low. “He may be Emperor one day, we need to secure that opportunity. Do we not, Reverend Mother?”

“We absolutely do, Harauna.”

Irulan’s jaw hangs open, looking between the two of you.

“Are you serious? Reverend Mother, you know Feyd-Rautha. You’ve seen him with your own eyes - You want Hara anywhere near that?”

“She’s thinking of the Imperium, Irulan. Should Paul Atreides be alive, he will want the throne.”

“Feyd-Rautha won’t go down without a fight…” You finish for her.

“Precisely. If he loses, Paul will have a bride awaiting him.” She gestures to your sister. “But if he reigns supreme, he’ll have a Corrino by his side.”

Irulan only shakes her head, disbelief glossing in her eyes. 

“Hara…”

“Sister, I need to do this.” You whisper, softly squeezing her hands. “I can’t make decisions like you…I’m not you.”

“W- What does that mean, Hara? I don’t understand-“

“If I get in line for the throne…” You begin. “If I secure a spot for myself in the Empire, I will be nearly equal to you in father’s eyes. I’ll mean something to someone.”

A tear threatens to fall as she struggles to find words. 

“You mean something to me.” She shrugs, now wondering if that holds any value to you. “If I lose you to the Harkonnens…If I have to stay here alone while you’re on Giedi Prime I don’t know how I’ll-“ She quickly wipes her eyes, taking a breath. “I don’t know how I’ll survive this impending war without you, Hara.”

You tilt your head, bringing your hand to Irulan’s cheek. 

“Write to me, Irulan.” You smile, forcing back your own tears as you solidify this departure in your head. “Send messages to Giedi Prime, will you? Write them like you do your entries and I swear to you I’ll read each one. No matter what happens with the Harkonnen’s, I’ll always have my sister back home on my side, right?”  

A thick silence falls upon the three of you, Irulan fighting between perplex and terror as her hands began to quiver in yours.

“I’ll alert the Emperor.” Reverend Mother says, leaving the two of you.

Alone, your sister pulls you into an embrace, one of the tighter ones. She allows her tears to land on your garments, her shoulders trembling as small whimpers escape her lips.

“Don’t do this, Hara.”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

“On your birthday of all days. The Baron should know better than to jeopardize his soon to be Planetary Governor in such a public manner. You could’ve died.” 

“I would not have died.” Your husband fiddles with his blade.

“All slaves should be drugged, should they not?” You remind him. “It’d have taken only one swift slash of the Atreides’ blade and The Baron would’ve lost his heir. He’s insane.”

“Careful, wife.” He warns, “The Baron is flawed but his promises are rich.”

“What could he possibly promise you that’s more important than the entirety of this planet?”

He stares, his eyes scanning you up and down as a small smirk grows on his face. 

“The entirety of Arrakis.” 

Creases form on your forehead, your words coming out as stammers.

“…He promises you…Arrakis?”

“If I manage to control spice production.” He explains, reveling in your dumbfounded expression. 

Your mind immediately imagines your life on Arrakis, a fate you’ve never considered. The plan was to marry Feyd-Rautha, be by his side when he defeats his opponents, have your father kneel to him, and rule the Imperium from the planet of the Harkonnens. But now, thoughts of working from the dune covered planet makes the hair on the back of your neck rise. 

“But-“ You clear your throat, “Um - Is that not Rabban’s job?”

“Rabban failed.” He seethes. “He humiliates house Harkonnen with each Fremen attack he allows. With me ruling the mission, there will be no more.”

“What’s the plan? Once you’re on Arrakis who’s to say my father won’t order you out? What if he doesn’t like how you handle-“

“The Emperor has a set fate too, Harauna. If we were to expose what he did to the Atreides’, the houses would explode. A rise against the Emperor would ensue.” He nears you, looking down at your wide eyes as he bares his blackened mouth. “The throne would be ours to take.”

You don’t know if he meant to admit to what he’s admitted to. Though, you have no doubt he’d tell you his plans to kill your father to your face, indifferent to what you might think. But even Feyd-Rautha should have some sort of limit, shouldn’t he?

“Feyd…” You murmur, “What will happen to him? What will happen to my house? My Reverend Mother, my sisters? They’re innocent they don’t deserve-“

He rolls his eyes, turning away in the midst of your oration. “Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He returns to his spot across the room. “If you want to sit next to me as Empress, I suggest you straighten out a bit, hm?”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

14 hours later 

Feyd-Rautha’s room reeks of deceased Harkonnen bodies and dried blood as you storm in, a scowl on your face. 

Inside, you see your husband squatted by a dead servant, one that if you look too close you may realize is an acquaintance of yours. 

‘FEYD-RAUTHA RABBA HARKO-‘ He’s carved into her pale white skin, his letters bleeding into each other.

The Princess Harauna 3 months ago would scream at the sight. She’d turn and run, alerting her Reverend Mother and father that a cold blooded murderer has gotten into your home. Only…this is home. The man carving names into bodies isn’t a stranger, not an intruder, but the man you married. 

Though you’re not sure he knows it, seeing as you can practically taste the Bene Gesserit on him.

You shove, hard, knocking Feyd-Rautha off balance and onto the concrete floor.

“What the-

“Seriously!?” You shout, watching his bewildered expression looking back at you. “You’ve not been of age for one whole day and you’ve already betrayed me!”

“You watch yourself, woman.” He warns you, spite in his eyes. 

“I can smell her on you.” You say, knowing all of the signs of a Bene Gesserit’s work, and a sexually vulnerable Feyd-Rautha. “She could be carrying your child!”

Your husband quickly calms himself, seemingly deciding not to waste energy on someone like you. On someone like his wife.

“Would you stop that yelling?” He mumbles, turning and beginning to smear the blood across the mutilated arm.

“How dare you.” You scoff. “I’m meant to be your princess. I’m meant to be your queen Feyd-Rautha! Not some girl who was on a mission. A Bene Gesserit who was here to test you and didn’t want you for more than one night-“

“You’re not any better!” He rises, his demeanor changing like night and day in a split second. 

The minute he gets angry, his energy dominates the room. “Don’t you ever think you’re a better woman for being a power hungry leech who called dibs on the heir before anyone else.” He jabs, lowering until he’s in your face. 

Your jaw hangs open, offense quickly overpowering the fear that you often feel in the presence of an angry Feyd-Rautha. Or any Feyd-Rautha, at that. 

“I don’t need you.” Your eyes pierce his, flames igniting in yours. “I’m the Emperor’s daughter, I was second in line for the throne. If anything, you needed me to get to where you-“

The wind is knocked out of you as your husband grabs your neck, instantly cutting off your words. He grins, nearly frothing at the mouth as he always does at the slightest hint of violence. He feeds off of violence, in the face of which most people quiver he greets it with a big smile, he yearns for violence, he is violence.

“I needed you, huh?” His face about brushes yours, his saliva dripping onto you. “I wasn’t at home being neglected by daddy, Harauna. I wasn’t the second choice. I didn’t need to marry to get power. I wasn’t worthless.” 

He’s entranced, his hand on your throat tightening with each sentence until you’re sure it’ll snap. You claw at his stained hands, collecting the blood of his servants under your nails.

“Husband-“ You croak, feeling the pressure in your head increase.

Feyd-Rautha only smiles, adrenaline rushing throughout him as he contemplates letting this be the end of you. Maybe he should rid himself of this royal burden before she sits with him at the top.

“Know your place, princess.” He whispers before letting you go with a shove. 

You drop to the floor, crashing into the bloody bodies on the ground and fighting for your pipes to reopen. You frantically heave as he looks down at you once more, evil in his eyes, before he leaves you where you are. 

Weeps escape you, feeling selfish as you cry in the presence of women who got it much worse. 

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you. Nevertheless, in times like this, the possibility of being ruler of the Imperium outweighs the possibility of dying due to your attempts. 

“Be the worst position in the highest room.” Your father used to tell you, “For some never make it to the room.”

10191 // month 4 // 📍starship 

The low hum of the frigate gives the cold ambience some character. Rabban lounges across the kitchen table, his feet up on the marble. Your husband sits a few chairs down from you, sheathing and unsheathing his blade, creating a repetitive sound for the two of you to suffer through.

“Princess Harauna.” You hear as the grand doors within the starship open. A servant enters, seemingly a younger version of the Baron, with a thin metal tube in his hand. 

The big man hands it to you, bowing slightly before shuffling away.

“Say thanks to the piggy.” Feyd-Rautha teases, a devilish grin on his face.

Rabban slightly chuckles as you eye your husband, sighing before opening the letter.

“To my sister, Hara.” 

Your eyes gleam, seeming to scan faster and faster the more and more you read. The two men in the room with you don’t seem to notice, mindlessly engaging in their own boredom as the ship heats up in the weather of Arrakis. 

You shut the tube with a click, looking down at it as you weakly attempt to process what you’ve just read.  

“Paul Atreides…is coming.” You reveal, catching the attention of Rabban and Feyd-Rautha. “He makes his way from the south.”

“Paul Atreides is dead.” Rabban corrects you. 

“He didn’t die in the attack-“

“I know that, woman!” He abruptly shouts, banging the table. “I saw to it myself, him and his mother died in the-“

“Sandstorm.” You finish, much quieter than he began. “But he didn’t.”

Your husband has turned his body toward you, now intently listening.

“They live - And they challenge my father now.” You look up at the two of them, “Him. He must be this Maud’Dib, this Lisan-Al-Gaib. Who else would it be?”

“Wait,” Feyd speaks up, “Challenge your father for what, exactly?”

You meet his gaze before reopening the letter, searching for the Irulan’s line on the challenge:

Paul Atreides will arrive unannounced when we land in Arrakis in a challenge for the throne.

Rabban shakes his head. “There’s no longer a need for the Emperor on Arrakis.” He misses the point, “We’ve got the spice production under control. The old bastard can stay home.”

Feyd-Rautha leans his elbows in his knees, looking up at you with that same evil look he gets whenever a dangerous plan arises.

“Atreides’,” He thinks aloud, “They’re little rats. Insects that keep popping up no matter how many times you exterminate.”

“Should I alert the Baron?” Rabban asks, speaking quicker than his acute brain can think. 

“You will do no such thing.” Feyd demands, conjuring up his plan in his much more suitable brain. “Since the Emperor is deciding to pay us a visit despite the work l've done here…Maybe the Atreides' will do the bloody work for us. Keep us in the good graces of the Great Houses."

Bloody work, he says. The exposure and diminishing of your father’s name he means. 

“Brother.” Rabban counters, “The Atreides’ - The Fremen - They’ll have us outnumbered. Uncle should be aware-“

“You will do no such thing.” His brother orders, now loosely pointing his blade toward Rabban. “The throne is mine therefore the throne is yours. The Baron won’t make Harkonnen the greatest house, brother. I will” He leers.

“Husband,” You voice reason, seeing all of the ways you could lose your promised spot to this scheme. “If it comes to a fight and Paul beats you-“

“He won’t beat me.”

“But if this challenge doesn’t go our way,” You hypothesize, “We could lose everything. Paul Atreides won’t let my father live, not after what he’s done. My family will hold no power, my sister will be-“

"I will remain unharmed, will I not? As will my brother.” He redirects. “Are we not your biggest concern anymore? Are we not your family, Harauna?" 

…

The ship gets hotter and hotter as you near Arrakeen. Feyd-Rautha meddles with his torso buttons on the opposite side of the room as you stare at the screen in your bedroom, broadcasting the sandy terrain of the new planet.

“What would your plans be as Emperor, Feyd-Rautha?” You query, eyes locked on the family owned land.

He sighs as he always does when you open your mouth, as if nothing his wife says is worthwhile. 

“Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He repeats.

“Just answer me…Please.” You urge, the question having appeared in your mind minutes ago and hasn’t stopped nagging since. 

“What do you think my plans are, princess?” He turns toward you, his dark and threatening eyes seeming to dim the entire room. “I’m going to make the entire Imperium Harkonnen. Our family will be the most powerful spice harvesters anyone’s ever seen.” He begins, “I’ll give my Empress a child, grow our empire, and teach my princeling how to rule.”

You listen intently, trying your hardest to envision your life going from Princess of Kaitan, to wife of the heir, to Empress of the Imperium beside Feyd-Rautha, of all men.

Be the worst position in the highest room.

Your husband goes on. “Caladan will be a thing of the past. Atreides will be a thing of the past. Harkonnen will be the great house and any others will just be…Maud’Dib.” He chuckles.

“‘Your Empress’...” You point out, never having heard your name. You only wish to hear where you and your family stand in his master plan. “Would it be me?”

He gives you his undivided attention, letting go of his leather vest. “Why must you talk so much about things that don’t matter?” He asks, true indifference and apathy in his tone.

For some never make it to the room.

“…Is it me or no one?” You speak up, your voice frantically running before your mind can catch up. “Is it me or death, Feyd-Rautha?”

Your attitude shifts in the middle of your sentence as you realize where you’ve heard these exact words before.

“You or no one, Irulan.” Your father would say, stroking your sister’s hair while the rest of you sat and waited for nothing. 

Never in your life did you plan to sit in a Harkonnen’s bedroom and beg for his approval. For his confirmation that you were his. 

But here you are, begging the worst of men to love you the way The Emperor never did. The way he never will. 

“In two moons I will be Emperor.” Feyd-Rautha strides toward you, holding your hands in his as he bores. “Harauna Harkonnen will be next to me.”

A smile grows wide on your face; An odd, yet full, feeling of acceptance spiraling throughout you.

His eyes suddenly seem to get even darker as his grip on your hands morphs into a crushing clutch. “For as long as she knows her place, she will remain.”

Ice replaces the once warm feeling in your veins. Your smile fades as his grows, watching the fear in you rise with each squeeze of your fingers. Tears form in your eyes as the reality of your situation sets in once more as it has over and over since you step foot on Giedi Prime.

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you.

10191 // month 4 // 📍arrakeen

two days later

You all stand completely still, your heartbeat seeming to be louder than the atomics outside of the Emperor’s structure. Inside the ring of Sardukaur lies your family; Irulan hiding behind your father as Maud’Dib, in front of your eyes, holds a blade over the Baron.

You and Feyd-Rautha stand alone across the walkway, your husband seemingly hypnotized by Paul Atreides as he plunges it into his uncles neck. Your hand resting on Feyd’s lower back vibrates as his breathing heavies, being just as amazed by Paul as you are. 

The both of your mouths hang open, and for once, you and your husband seem to be on the same page. Paul begins barking orders at your father as you bring your lips to Feyd’s ear, speaking in a hushed whisper to not interfere with the daring Paul Maud’Dib.

“In the event of your death…” You begin. He slightly cocks his head toward you, listening. “Would you have me marry him?”

Paul gives one last daring look at the sea of people standing against him, though, he seems as fearless as your husband as his expression never wavers from stone. 

“Is he worthy?”

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t so much as flinch at your comment, new, for a man like him. You can’t help but believe it’s because you’re right. The na-Baron recognizes that the viciousness that is Paul Atreides, no matter how unexpected, is a perfect match for him. A perfect match for his wife. 

Is he wrong to admit that if not him, Paul may be the closest thing to fit to be Emperor of the universe?

…

You’ve never laid eyes on a fight so glorious. The two most powerful and ferocious men on Arrakis clinking their blades again and again in a battle for the throne. 

The room falls silent as your husband lodges his sword into Paul, holding him close as one of the two release an animalistic roar. His mother stands, his Fremen’s mouths hang agape, your husband just hardly smiles at you over his shoulder. 

You can’t help but feel a sense of dread boiling in your stomach. Yes - You want Feyd-Rautha to reign supreme. Yes, you want to be Empress. But as you watch the devilish sneer on his face fill out as Paul’s blood stains his pasty hand, your heart seems to be pulling you in another direction. You’ve always been quite talented at telling good from bad; But Maud’Dib, you can’t seem to figure out. He lays in the gray area in between the two, you determine. 

Your reflection is quickly halted as the squelching sound of an edge piercing skin fills the room. You sway to the side, eyes wide as you see Paul’s hand gripping the handle, the rest buried into your husband’s heart. 

A gasp escapes many in the room, you included as a hand flies to your mouth. You and your father very well may be the only people in the room who are rooting for Feyd-Rautha. Knowing this, the smiles that sprinkle themselves on attendants throughout the room quickly after the inhale isn’t unanticipated. 

“You…” His raspy voice is almost too quiet for you to catch as he fights for each breath. “You fought well…Atreides.”

He slowly turns his head just far enough to have you in his sight. Even in death, Feyd-Rautha remains as menacing as the day you first met him. 

He has no words for you. He only bares that stupid, prideful, blackened smile that got him stabbed in the first place. 

You seem in a trance as you watch his body thud to the floor, looking as lifeless as the women on his bedroom floor back home. 

“Lisan-Al-Gaib!” A Fremen leader calls, breaking the silence as his people repeat after him.

Paul Atreides, Feyd-Rautha’s murderer, rises. He limps toward you and your family, prompting your sister to swiftly grab your free hand as the other slowly lowers from your lips. 

You had no love for Feyd-Rautha, nothing real. For him you experienced nothing that you should feel for a husband. Nevertheless, the tears flow all the same. 

"The life debt has been paid.” Irulan blurts, squeezing your hand as Paul nears you. “Spare my father and I will be your willing bride. The throne will be yours."

Her words snap you out of your haze, throwing you into the face of reality as it strikes you in the heart. 

"I'll take the hand of your daughter. She will remain safe and we will rule together over the empire." Paul declared.

In the span of seconds you imagine the moment a trillion different ways. If only he had nodded toward you, not Irulan.

‘Where is integrity?’ You wonder. 

Where is honor in sacrifice when you've given all you know to give and you still don't win. You can never seem to come out on top. You can never seem to be first…But your sister can, as she always does.

You snatch your hand away from your Irulan’s; Your eyes glued to your father, now kneeling, as rage grows within you. The rage of all of the rejection you've faced, the rage of all you have given to get to where you are, the rage of now wishing Feyd-Rautha had stuck Paul Atreides' head on a spike for all of Arrakis to see.

The rage of a Harkonnen.

#dune part two #dune movie #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction #dune fandom #dune fic #dune part ii #feyd rautha #feyd rautha imagine #feyd x reader #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha fic #dune part one

[alastor-simp]

"My My, Aren't You Adorable -Alastor with a Nezuko Reader

🎙Alastor was a little surprised when he met you for the first time. You still retained your human appearance, but he could smell that you were a demon, but different. You looked very young, which made him feel some pity for you since you had died at such a young age. He did find you very adorable when he met you, finding your expressions to be so innocent. "My my, aren't you simply adorable?" as he patted your head.

🎙Your attire confused him greatly, he couldn't tell if you were wearing a dress or some type of odd suit. Niffty, surprisingly, was able to tell him it was a traditional Japanese kimono, and they were commonly worn in Japan. He still found it odd, but said nothing else. He found out that you could change your size, when he saw you shrink down to Niffty's size and gave her a hug. Well that certainly was an interesting power.

🎙The muzzle on your mouth angered him a bit. He prefers to see a smile whenever he is conversing with another, so why cover it? You tried to explain it to him, but it didn't go well, since you could only say "mmm mmm" with the muzzle covering your mouth. Charlie kindly gave you a piece of paper to write down your responses to make it easier for everyone to understand. They understood now that you wore the muzzle to control you from biting anyone, which answered Alastors question, but it still annoyed him.

🎙Al slowly got use to you as time went by. True, he couldn't speak to you normally, but you were very expressive with your face and hands. You were naturally friendly with him, which shocked him a bit, since given his status he is use to being feared, but you weren't. Quite a strange demon you were.

🎙He learned later on that you were a very affectionate creature, as whenever he appeared, you would run up and hug him, or pat his head. He abhorred being touched by anyone, yet when it came from you and gazing into your sweet eyes, he couldn't find it in him to push you away. Goodness, he hoped he wasn't going soft.

🎙During one of Charlie's group exercises, she wanted everyone to explain their past, if they wanted to. Once it was your turn, you wrote down your tragic past. That once peaceful winter morning with your family soon turned into a nightmare as they were all slaughtered by another demon. Only you and your brother survived, but the attack, instead of killing you, turned you into a demon. Somehow, you were able to control your urges, and still retain some of your memories when you were human, which help prevent you from hurting others and those you cared about. Everyone around you felt heartbroken once you told them, resulting in a group hug from everyone, except Al, but he was kind enough to place a warm hand on your shoulder.

🎙Alastor appeared like your story didn't bother him that much, but inside he was fuming with rage. Once he heard the name of the demon who orchestrated the death of your family, "Muzan", he made a long list in his mind of how he could torture/kill that bastard. Oh how he was going to enjoy his screams.

🎙During one of his outings with you, clothes shopping for new attire, he, unfortunately, ran into his sworn enemy, Vox. "Well well, if it isn't the piece of sh✪✪ television!" Alastors eyes, glared at the walking TV, wishing to rip it right off. Vox walked closer to the both of you, wearing a cocky smirk. "Hahaha! Finally come to your senses, and decided to join my team!" Alastor rolled his eyes, letting out a "Ha! No!"

🎙Vox's hypnotic eyes soon locked on to you, causing you to let out a growl, that caught Al's attention. "Well who is this pretty little thing? Your new to-POW!!!" Vox could barley finish his sentence as you gave a roundhouse kick straight into his screen, sending him flying back." Alastors eyes widen at that, shocked by your strength. He soon watched as you began to transform.

🎙The muzzle on your mouth was bitten off, allowing him to see your fangs. Your body had grown in height, along with leaf like markings appearing on your skin, and large horn protruding from your forehead. Your once sweet innocent eyes were now in slits and veins were protruding from your face. Breathtaking was the first thing Al thought of, upon witnessing your full demon form.

🎙Vox was still alive, even after that strong kick, but he was feeling enraged. "WHY YOU LITTLE BIT✪✪!!!" Wires began to protrude from his head, launching at you like snakes. Vox managed to cut one of your limbs off, but his mouth was left agaped that you were able to regenerate it back. Throwing some of your blood at Vox and his wires, you activated your blood art power, sending him and the wires ablaze, burning them in hell fire.

🎙Realizing you were a much powerful foe, he retreated. Now it was only you and Al alone again. You slowly transformed back into your normal form, looking back at Alastor, without the muzzle this time. Alastor was a bit stunned at what had just transpired. He didn't expect you to defend him like that. What tremendous power you possessed.

🎙Walking closer to him, you smiled at him for the first time. It made his black little heart race, seeing such a pure smile on your face. "Are you okay?", he heard you say. Your voice was so soft-spoken, that it shocked Alastor even more. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Al walked closer to you, placing a hand on your head, ruffling your hair. "Quite alright my dear! I must say, that was an amazing show of power. You are full of surprises aren't you!" Alastor smiled down at you, giving you a soft smile, then his regular joker-like smile.

🎙Snapping his fingers, he repaired the bamboo muzzle that you had broken. "Here you go, my dear! Though I prefer you without it! That smile of yours is quite lovely." After that whole incident with Vox, Alastor became much closer to you. He now saw you as a close friend, and loved you like a daughter. Anyone who dared harmed you, would have to suffer the wrath of the Radio demon.

~END~

Tagging:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi, @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping@danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman

#alastor hazbin #nezuko kamado #nezuko reader #demon slayer #hazbin hotel x demon slayer reader #demon slayer nezuko #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #radio demon #the radio demon x reader #radio demon x reader #the radio demon #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel vaggie #muzan kibutsuji #x reader #fem!reader #platonic #hazbin hotel headcanons #fluff headcanons #nezuko kamado reader

[strangeshoepatrolbandit-alt]

A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing.

Summary: He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. You're the sacrificial lamb. (What it was like.)

Warnings: Wolf and lamb imagery, mentions of sexual interactions, one of them being Non-Con... I think?("Making love", "fucking", "thrusting".), naivety, mentions of murder and blood, killing Lucy Gray Baird, being a Trophy wife, lies, mentions of breeding, being trapped in a marriage, getting hunted, guns, mentions The Hunger Games, mentions hanging(Sejanus' death), rebellion, being a shell of yourself, being tied up, getting rid of a body(Lucy Gray), toxic relationship, controlling!Coryo, Coriolanus' being 'bony'.

Fem!Reader.

I'm trying something new with my writing.

He lured you in.

He was one of the best Academy students and the only power he had was his name.

He spoke with you over open and discarded books, spewing with his charming words.

Sweet naive you.

He pressed soft kisses to your lips and thrusted in a pattern that made you see stars. Cosmic. Making love.

He was kind to your family, he was kind to your friends. He cared for you.

°•°•°

He was a mentor in the tenth Hunger Games, his tribute was Lucy Gray Baird. He helped her win, cheating for her from behind a screen while you supported him without knowing what he's done.

He was caught, and his punishment was becoming a Peacekeeper. Originally for District 8.

You threw a fit in his bedroom, crying and crying over again, begging the universe to not separate the two of you.

Dependent.

His hands held your face as he looked between both of your eyes, his own going back and forth. Left and right.

"No, you wont." He sounded so firm, but his voice still held the softness he could only have for you. "I'm going to 12. I will make sure to see through with it. You will go to 12."

And like a lamb led to the slaughter, you did.

°•°•°

You watched him beat a man, defending Lucy Gray like she was still his responsibility. You swam in the lake with him, holding onto him and laughing without a care in the world. You broke down with him after Sejanus' death. You stayed in the cabin with him and Lucy Gray.

The three of you planned a future that would get you all killed. You spoke the same words that had your dear friend, Sejanus, hung in front of a galore of witnesses.

Murdered.

Martyr.

You were oblivious to the way Coriolanus was cracking, something finally going off in his brain. He broke down.

He revealed what he's done. He told you both about Sejanus. He's why Sejanus Plinth, Bobbin, and Mayfair are dead.

Backstabber.

Murderer.

Lucy played it cool, keeping her calm as to not draw suspicion.

She grabbed your arm and a basket, making it seem innocent as she told him the two of you were going to pick katniss.

"Lucy Gray," He stared as she opened the door, a bright smile on her face as she gripped you tighter. "It's still raining."

"Well, we're not made out of sugar." And with that, she pulled you out. The two of you walked together until you were out of sight from the cabin windows.

And then you heard him.

Screaming, yelling, gunshots, running.

Cat and mouse.

Snake and bird.

Wolf and lamb.

Lucy Gray was dead beside you, and Coriolanus Snow was her killer. You were on the ground, your lover on top of you, tears spilling from your eyes as you stared at your lifeless friend. Coriolanus' hands dug into the plush of your body while he forced you to stand, holding your wrist with one hand while dragging Lucy with the other.

Back at the cabin, you were bound enough to where you couldn't run, but watching as Coriolanus wrapped up Lucy Gray's body and dumped her in the lake you all swam and laughed in just days before.

"No loose ends." He repeated to you as he forced you into the cabin, tying you to the bed the two of you slept on. "Besides you. But you won't tell anyone, will you?" He asked softly, wiping your tears and pushing back your hair.

You shook your head repeatedly, breathing heavily and staring at him with wide eyes.

"Good." He let out a breath as a smile grew on his face, now caressing one of your cheeks. "Good girl."

He leaned in and kissed you, ridding you of your clothes while you cried. He wasnt sweet. He didn't kiss the tears away, they just seemed to egg him on. This was not making love. He was fucking you while you were vulnerable.

×

You didn't get to leave Panem. You didn't get to run off and live a fairytale.

Coriolanus brought you back to the Capitol, solidifying you to him by announcing your engagement to him.

He didn't stop. Not even when he moved in with Sejanus' mourning parents, not even when he killed them.

Not even when he became the president, and you the First Lady.

You were both in your twenties, living better than you used to.

Coriolanus was no longer bony, no longer hungry. He no longer wore the clothes his cousin, Tigris, would make him. His hair was no longer buzzed like it was when he was a Peacekeeper, and his personality was different than when he was eighteen.

You're still intimate. You live, work, eat, sleep together. Your womb is warm for his seed. You're married by Panem and Capitol law. But you are not partners. He is the dictator. You're the trophy First Lady. You dress exactly as he likes. You act exactly as he likes. You move exactly as he likes. His word is law. Yours is nothing. And every moment you are his, you wonder what it would be like to not have to dance to his puppet strings.

He lured you in.

Sacrificial lamb.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #tbosbas #tbosas x reader #thg series #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader

[yandere-3-sagau]

To Take for Granted

Genshin Cult AU x Reader Angst

word count: 862

warning(s): genshin cult au, angst, neglect, death, mentions of suicide

—

They say to never meet your heroes.

Imagine you isekai but as your mortal self with no special divine powers. Only the knowledge of the characters and the game you played.

At first, the acolytes are amazed to be in the presence of the creator. They worship you, give you everything you could ever want and shower you in praise and affection.

However, the more you stay, the more their affection and worship begins to dwindle.

They begin to lose faith.

You don’t meet their godly expectations. You’re not as divine and all knowing as they had originally thought. They don’t gain any divine blessings or power from worshipping or devoting themselves to you.

You are not their perfect creator, you have flaws. You’re human.

The archons no longer prioritize you, choosing to take care of their prospective nations than to cater to you.

Their attitude change is gradual and you notice their declining interest in you pretty early on, but you can’t do anything to stop it. It’s not long before your lively temple becomes desolate with little to no visitors.

Although you’re hurt and disappointed, you are a bit grateful. You’ve read stories of imposters being slaughtered so you feel like being forgotten is better than being hunted. Still, you’re not one to stay where you’re unwanted. You begin to do research on how to return back to your original world. You’ve had your fill of Teyvat and you think it’s time to go home.

Eventually, you come to the conclusion that the only way to return is to die in this world.

Though you’re scared, you push through and find the most peaceful way to pass. A poison that will stop your heart in your sleep.

After traveling to all of the beautiful viewpoints of Teyvat one final time, you return to your temple and consume the poison.

When you open your eyes once more, you’re back home in your bed. The familiar Genshin Impact loading screen is open on your phone.

With a sad smile, you delete the app.

In Teyvat, the archons, adepti, everyone is panicking.

Plants are dying and the weather is unstable. Farmers are unable to yield any crops from the constantly changing weather. Monsters are becoming increasingly violent and restless and no one can seem to find an explanation.

Until one character remembers you.

Their supposed creator. Everyone decides to pay a visit to your temple on the off chance that you may know of a solution to their current issues.

The area around your temple is peaceful. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining along with a soft wind that keeps the area nice and warm. It’s a stark difference from the cold and gloomy weather all around Teyvat.

They knock on the doors to your temple but no one answers. After waiting for a while, they let themselves in.

They find you laying peacefully on the silk sheets of your bed. Your eyes are closed and you have a small smile on your face. If it wasn’t for your cold skin and the absence of a pulse, they would have thought you were sleeping.

When the archons announce the death of the creator, the cause of all of their problems becomes apparent to all.

The land of Teyvat itself, is in mourning.

The period of morning lasts for one whole year.

Even as the mourning period of Teyvat ends and all goes back to normal, the characters are still not at ease.

When they realize that you’re truly gone, the characters have no idea what to feel. They didn’t notice at first how much your presence truly effects the land of Teyvat.

Something about their world now just seems so artificial.

Without the presence of the creator, it seems as if everything’s become stagnant. Water still runs, clouds still float in the sky but for some reason nothing seems real. The characters feel as if they have no purpose, no drive.

They begin to notice things that they’ve never noticed before. The citizens in each of their nations seem to say the same things over and over again. The people they help with tasks, have the same reoccurring problem. It becomes unsettling.

The acolytes that have originally lost faith have become more religious than ever. They pray every single day, hoping that you’d hear them and realize how sorry they are to have neglected you.

Some have become so devoted to the point of studying how to summon or even descend a god. To forcefully bring you back to Teyvat just so they could see you in person once more.

They had beaten themselves up over the layer of dust accumulated on the furniture in your temple. Now, your acolytes come in personally everyday to make sure every inch of your temple is spotless.

But no matter how much time passes or how much they pray, they are unable to feel your presence.

Though disheartened, they understand. You must still be upset with them but how can they prove themselves to you if they never see you again? However, it’s okay if you’re not ready to come back to Teyvat. They will come to you instead.

#yandere genshin #genshin impact #creator reader #imposter #genshinxreader #creator #god reader #teyvat #archons #Zhongli #raiden #venti #childe #ajax #tartaglia #moraz #kunikuzushi #scaramouche #xiao #adepti #kazuha #thoma #inazuma #liyue #mondstadt #sumeru #genshin angst #neglect #sagauxreader #yandere sagau

[honeybleed]

— ★ BLOODSHED // SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI

content & warnings: fem!reader, canon-verse, canon typical violence (blood, vomit, death, reader has suicidal thoughts due to survivor’s guilt), conflict (sanemi insults reader a bit but hey) smut (unprotected sex, missionary) mdni

author’s note: saw the demon slayer movie n had thoughts 🫠

word count: 1.6k

Too late.

That was the only words that echoed in Sanemi's mind.

He told you to stay behind the bushes whilst he investigated the scene. Your nose wrinkled at the acrid stench of flesh.

Sanemi was not a childhood friend. He was a familiar face to you when you were both children but he was nowhere near a friend.

The tragedy that struck his family in your village was whispered among the residents. But never fully discussed under Sanemi's blood-curdling glare.

He eventually left to join the Demon Slayer Corps. His younger brother followed in his footsteps.

Fast forward to the present, you were caught amidst the pattern of young women disappearing. Sanemi and Iguro had swooped in to rescue you.

The Wind Hashira and Serpent Hashira bickered amongst themselves as you were thrown across Sanemi's shoulder against your will before they parted ways.

In Sanemi's book, he would've dropped you home with no further explanation. His duty was done.

But as he made his way into the heart of the village, boots slick with blood, and the coppery tang of it mingling with the earthy scent of churned soil wafted to his nose, he realized it wasn't going to be as simple as he wanted it to be.

Corpses were strewn across the ground like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms contorted in unnatural poses. Weapons littered on the ground. It was beyond unnerving.

His eyebrows furrowed. He told you to stay put, and he turned to see you crawling across the ground.

"Are they all dead?" You mustered out. The air was heavy with an eerie silence.

"...Yeah." Sanemi responded voice devoid of emotion, not able to meet your eye.

Your hands covered your mouth as you felt bile scratch your throat. Scrambling away, you felt your chest heave and you threw up with all your might.

The image of children crying and screaming as they cowered with their parents as the demons slaughtered them was too much.

A once bustling marketplace was now reduced to a graveyard, the stalls overturned and splattered with crimson. Laughter and conversation replaced with screams of terror.

That was the last thing you remembered before you felt faint and were submerged in darkness.

Your eyes blearily wrenched open. The atmosphere was different. From the destruction and hollowness of your home, there was warm light that shed through the paper screens and a fragrant aroma mixed with the scent of herbs.

Struggling to sit up, you felt a wrinkled hand press you back down onto the futon. You turned your head to face the kind face.

"Where am I?"

She didn't respond. Rather, she stood up, bowed and exited the room. Leaving you bewildered.

Your clothes had been changed and your feet were no longer scraped and bloody like they were when Sanemi rescued you from the demon's clutches.

Pushing off the covers, you could feel a presence. Your eyes focused on the shoji screen door, and sure enough, Sanemi was sitting cross-legged on the engawa.

He didn't bother to look at you.

"You haven't changed." You said.

He's still brash. Rude. But to you, maybe not to others it's just a defence mechanism. To push people away.

He didn't respond.

"Do you regret...saving me?" You finally questioned.

Sanemi felt his heart race. He was crushed with the guilt of all those villagers dying.

"No." He said bluntly.

"I wish you didn't." You spat and headed back indoors leaving him completely dumbstruck.

Sanemi felt rage boil within him. The vein in his temple throbbed as he saw red.

Within an instant, he shot up to yank the door open as he glared at you, breathing heavily.

"You UNGRATEFUL WENCH!" He bellowed.

You sat up from the futon, eyes widening.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!" You screeched, livid at his audacity.

"You heard me, loud and clear!" He spat. "After what I did for you?!"

"WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO LIVE IF IT WAS AT THE COST OF AN ENTIRE VILLAGE...?!" You shrieked, a lump forming in your throat.

The words stung him. All the guilt of the massacred village comes crashing down on him.

"YOU STILL LIVE." He seethed. "YOU TAKE THAT CHANCE I GAVE YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

"What the HELL is left for me?! YOU SAW IT! IT WAS A GRAVEYARD!" You sobbed, tears spilling down your cheeks.

He turned away. His face was beet red, balling up his fists as he shook with a silent rage.

"But you are ALIVE, aren't you?!"

"What use is there being alive...?" You said defeatedly, not wanting to scream anymore as your body began to wrack with sobs. "Just do me a favor, and end my life."

"Don't ask me to do stupid crap like that, you hear me?" Sanemi hissed as he glared at you. "My blade is for those demonic bastards. Not airhead humans."

"I have no reason to live."

"I said, don't talk like that." He said sternly as he grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look up at him.

He practically was lying on you whilst you were sitting on the futon.

The two of you had emotions brewing. Unexplainable. And as terrifying as Sanemi could be, there was a magnetic pull between the two of you.

And it appeared he shared the same sentiment, as he instantly captured your lips for a hungry kiss.

First, your body froze. But when you registered this was something you wanted, with the way heat pooled deep in your gut, you returned the kiss.

Sanemi planted his large and calloused hand onto the back of your neck. He groaned into the kiss as your tongue ventured inside the recess of his mouth, caressing his own.

Hands grasping and shedding clothes off. Ripping, forcing and tugging at the fabric that seemed to be confining the both of you.

Your palms grazed and slid against the taut, firm muscle that was etched with countless scars. His fingers digging and kneading your soft and supple skin, the outlines of your curves and dips.

Pulling away from the heated kiss, gasping for air to latch onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

Closer, closer, he needs to feel you. Your limbs intertwine, Sanemi's digits gripping into the plump flesh of your rear to haul you onto his lap.

Your eyes flutter shut, it's almost heavenly the way his sharp canines sink into your throat, how he alternates between gliding his tongue and grazing the jagged edges.

He wants to devour you whole. And you'd let him over and over again. You want him, you'd let him tear you apart.

The way he growls gutturally as his achingly hard cock merely brushes against your soaked slit.

He pushed you back and began to palm at your breasts, kneading them as he met your lips again, lapping into your mouth.

"Fucking beautiful, y'know that?" He grunts between the sloppy kisses.

"You're okay.." You tease with a smile as your hands skim across his sides.

"I'm better than okay." He chuckles. You wince as he gripped and squeezed your flesh, marking you up.

He finally pulled away, his hands pinning your wrists down. His tongue dragged over his lower lip as his cock throbbed, the way you were spread out for him.

The steady forming red marks littered across your skin, the bite marks, your skin sheen with sweat, the goosebumps all across your arms and the way your lips had swollen.

"Tell me what you want." He rasped out, a predatory glint in his eye. He never thought sex could elicit the same high he got from massacring demons.

"I want you inside me..." You responded meekly.

“Anything for you.”

Sanemi let out a stutter as he slowly pushed himself inside, entering you was true bliss. The way your velvet walls accommodated him.

You mewled at how he stretched you out, your back instantly arching. He met your lips furiously, eyebrows furrowing.

"Want this whole place to hear you scream my name." He mumbled, sweat trickling down his forehead.

Sanemi nuzzled his face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he began to thrust. You were a babbling mess as he buried himself in you to the hilt.

You whined as his nails dug into your hips.

"...Nemi." You mustered out pathetically, the saliva from your kissing dribbling down your chin.

"Need to...cum inside of you, make you mine." He grunted as he pounded into you relentlessly, grunting and snarling as he felt your slick walls clench around his cock.

The room was filled with the heady scent of sex and sweat as he drove you toward the brink of ecstasy.

"S'close, Sanemi..." You breathed out, his thumb dragging against your plump lower lip with a cocky smile.

"Let's cum together, okay...?" He whispered near your ear, uncharacteristically gentle.

You nodded and soon enough, your bodies were in sync, a cacophony of breaths coming in short gasps, moans of pleasure and skin slapping.

Sanemi felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge, feeling you grasp around him.

He kept his focus firmly on you, reaching to circle your clit, adding stimulation to push you over the edge.

Your walls pulsated wildly as he slammed into you, his seed spilling deep inside of you in hot spurts.

He instantly collapsed on top of you, panting heavily. It took a moment for him to finally peel himself off of you.

Your eyes raked over his face, your hand cradled the side of his face and he leaned into your touch.

Sanemi barely smiles. If he smiles, it's the thrill-seeking, adrenaline one he gets at the prospect of slashing demons down.

But as your thumb stroked his cheek, you were the only one to see Sanemi Shinazugawa beam at you with tenderness and warmth.

author’s note: if u reached this far tysm!! reblogs n interactions always appreciated hehe yeah btw i got a headache so sorry for any spelling or grammatical mistakes lawl

#kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa smut #sanemi smut #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #kny x you #kny x y/n #shinazugawa sanemi #⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nara scribbles

[heycarrots]

There’s been a lot of discourse about the nature of James and Miranda’s relationship. There’s even been a lot of discussion on my podcast about it. One thing I want to make clear is that my podcast is a platform for discussion on all points of view. I’m not going to agree, 100%, with everything that’s said, but it makes the views of my guests no less valid. There’s no right or wrong, here, because this is art and therefore, it is subject to interpretation.

My intent, however, is to attempt to get as close to the original intent of the actors as possible because we look at a show or a film or a play as going through several layers of distillation. Each level purifies the intended narrative leaving its truest essence.

When we make a reduction sauce using an alcohol of some kind, let’s say a red wine, the heat applied to it burns off things we don’t need for flavor. You’re never going to get drunk off of red wine reduction because there’s almost no alcohol left in it. That all gets burned off, leaving only the flavor components, which is what we wanted all along, anyway. We want that extra element that enriches the flavor of the steak, by adding nuance.

So let’s take apart that meal.

We start with the birth of the idea. The story kicks around in an author’s head, trying to get out, growing bigger and more persistent until it outgrows the confines of the mental box inspiration is stored in and has to be let out. That idea, that’s the cow.

The author raises that idea, feeds it, watches it grow, and then, ultimately slaughters it. That sounds awful, but once you have that idea pulsing, growing, evolving and then finally commit the final draft on paper, it is a kind of death. The life of the story comes to an end and it becomes memorialized in a mausoleum. Readers will come to visit, spend time with it, lay down flowers, cherish it, and mourn its passing.

The next level is adaptation. That’s the steak. There are many ways you can slice the story, large roasts encompassing the whole story or a smaller, hyper-focused character study fillet mignon.

A writers room gets hold of the cow and carves it up. They choose what gets cooked and what gets tossed. A GREAT group of writers saves the bones. They take in the entire supporting structure of the piece and while the whole story may not make it onto the screen, they will have slow roasted the bones for a stock. When you watch a show like Black Sails, where themes are introduced that won’t fully be explained or explored until several seasons later, that’s what that is. It is the stock being used to flavor the whole dish. You’ve distilled the entire cow to its purest essence and so every scene, every line of dialogue, every acting choice, encompasses the entirety of the story. A line from episode one is defined by knowledge of the finale and in regard to dialogue, defined by an actors’ knowledge of a character’s backstory. There are many writers rooms who are creating the bones of the story as they go, which means they aren’t starting with a rich stock. You can’t trace back character motivations or choices to begin with because those motivations changed throughout production.

Black Sails, again, isn’t one of those shows. Steinberg and Levine came into the writers room with their stock pot full and sloshing, spilling story everywhere. The richness of the details they were laying can make season one a bit hard to consume unless you are ready for a story on that level. Viewers need to come to the table with some bread to sop up all those character details because we WILL need them later.

Over the course of finalizing scripts and blocking out episodes, the steak is cooked. Like any great steak, this story is medium rare. More juice comes out with every bite. It’s what makes the show infinitely rewatchable. It continues to cook on the plate, but because it wasn’t overdone, it never dries out.

When the actors get ahold of it, that’s the reduction sauce we were talking about. That sauce provides nuance and flavor. That’s the emotion. A line of dialogue on a page is just ink. It’s nothing until it’s spoken aloud. And like any bit of language in this world, it’s subject to interpretation. In this case, it’s the actor who does the interpreting.

I spoke on the podcast about the art of subtext and how huge a role it plays in Black Sails. One example we used is Jane Eyre. It’s one of the most frequently adapted novels in the English language and with each adaptation, we get a new version of our characters. The most volatile and subject to change is Rochester. There are MANY versions of Rochester that I find appalling (including the original beast in the book), but each actor has formed him into something else, based on their performance. Toby Stephens takes Rochester and turns him into a silly tragic romantic, broken many times over by a society he never really fits into, despite the status of his birth. He connects with Ruth Wilson’s Jane because she fully and happily inhabits that space on the fringes that Rochester thinks he needs to climb out of. Jane takes his hand on the outside of the wall, turns him away from the guarded palace and shows him the wild world that was at his back this whole time.

This is what Toby Stephens, Luke Arnold, Louise Barnes, Zethu Dlomo, and really all the actors for whom their subtextual choices make them reflect like prisms, have done with their performances.

In the final distillation, character motivations and emotions are finalized by the actor. Writers can pontificate, the source material lies dead in its lovely tomb, but stories live and breathe by their storytellers.

What we’re left with is Toby’s face telling the world how deeply Flint loves Silver. Every single choice tells this story.

We’re left with Luke showing us how much Silver is repressing in his feelings for Flint. Luke’s face shows us an incredible depth of feeling and a door slamming shut.

We’re left with the incredible intimacy between James and Miranda, which speaks of a decade of shared physical intimacy. There’s an openness, a freeness to it until the moment in episode 3 when Miranda learns that James has found the Urca and is leaving soon to pursue it. She gives some of it away when she says “I thought I’d have you all to myself”. She is mourning the loss of intimacy that she only gets in short windows of time. They aren’t strained because James isn’t attracted to her, but because he’s rarely there. She has him for a few days at a time before he’s off on another hunt. The coldness starts from the moment he tells her he’s leaving in a few days because I believe she thinks he won’t be coming back, that this is the hunt he won’t survive and she’ll finally have lost both James and Thomas. From the moment Richard Guthrie darkens her door, she’s looking for a way to weaponize him and get them out. For her, it’s a race against the clock and she’s willing to sacrifice a bit of her relationship with James in the present to secure happiness for them in the future.

This is also why James still has sex with her before leaving, even though he’s furious for her reading Meditations to Richard. This is how they connect. They connected through physical intimacy in the flashbacks, as well. Him stroking her thumb in the carriage before the kiss. Tactile contact to seal their understanding of each other. Miranda bracing her hands on his chest during important moments in the Hamilton’s home, something she also does to Thomas, to show physical connection, physical intimacy. Miranda thrives on physical touch.

To think that, for 10 years, James is lying there like an object for Miranda to use, is, to me, short sighted. To think that James doesn’t love Miranda outside of a group, is also ignoring the fact that, 10 years on, James will not leave on a hunt (angry as they both are) without physically connecting with her, trying so hard to reach beyond his anger and the wound freshly opened from sight of that book he’s chosen not to look at for probably the better part of those 10 years. The way his hands hover over her back after she comes and he desperately wants to be with her in that moment, like the best of their moments, but he just can’t, speaks to the depth of his love for her.

So many fans of the show point to this sad sex scene as one of the most important character moments for James and Miranda, but I consistently come to the opposite conclusions about WHY it’s important and what we learn from it, because I’m taking my cues from the actor’s choices, not the director or the writers. On the page, in plain ink, he hates having sex with her. Toby and Louise show us, however, that they are trying to recapture a thing that is fleeting, reaching out to each other to patch up an old wound from which the scab has been picked off, leaving it seeping and raw.

From Toby’s performance, regardless of the words he uses years later to describe it, we see not a character who “loves men” or a character who “loves women”, but a character who LOVES. I don’t see Flint defining that love in terms of boxes and parameters. He’s a character who must be coaxed out, but then loves without reason, without a safety net, as he proves with his love of Silver. As was also referenced by a guest on the podcast, he places a sword in Silver’s hand and says “do it”.

Anyway, this post got away from me and took several turns, but the love between James and Miranda being dismissed by so many in the fandom has been bugging me for a while and I just needed to emotionally vomit on tumblr.

#black sails meta #cooking metaphors #my culinary degree isn’t ALWAYS useless #James Flint #Captain James Flint #James McGraw #Miranda Barlow #John Silver #flinthamilton #SilverFlint #silverflintmadi #Toby Stephens #Louise Barnes #Luke Arnold #Zethu Dlomo #Black Sails #sexuality in a historical context #the almighty subtext #acting choices were made #When the lips and the eyes are telling two different stories it’s the eyes that tell the truth #no daylight between you and I

[ayyy-pee]

Do Not Answer

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi - Part 2

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader

Summary: You’d ended things with Suguru a while ago; when his execution was set after he’d slaughtered an entire village and when he’d tried to get you to join him in his endeavors of “cleansing the world”. He’d tried to convince you that this was for the greater good, to make the world a better place. But you weren’t one of his cult followers and you definitely weren’t a murderer. Despite this, Suguru had… a hard time letting go.

Warnings: Mean Suguru Getou, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Stalking, Manipulative Behavior, Jealous Behavior, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Breeding, Creampie, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Death Threats, Choking on cock, Profanity because duh I'm me

You’re lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. It’s late and the day has been way too long. After finishing up lectures with your students, you feel absolutely drained. Today’s lesson on cursed energy control wiped you out. All you can think about is finally being able to close your eyes and sleep, but for some reason your mind won’t let you. 

A chilly breeze sneaks through the cracks of the closed window at the foot of your bed.

It’s your second year as a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical School, though you used to be a student here as well. After graduation, you knew you wouldn’t be able to cut it in the real world and certain…events that took place shortly after your graduation also made you wary to leave. So you accepted a teaching position and moved into the teacher’s dorms.

You enjoyed your work as a teacher. The students depended on you to teach them the necessary skills for survival and you were happy to do so. They filled your life with purpose even if you felt a deep loneliness in the late hours of your room when the day came to an end.

Your phone vibrates, a text window appearing above the array of shirts you’re scrolling through as you fight your boredom with online shopping. 

W: What are you up to right now?

Ah, your current “relationship”, if you could call it that, probably wondering if he could come over. You’d been seeing him casually for a couple of months, nothing serious. You had met him on assignment in Yokosuka. He was a window who had stumbled upon a particularly nasty semi-grade 2 curse and had called the school to assist since windows only possessed enough cursed energy to see curses, but not enough to actually exorcize them. They dispatched you since Nanami had been on assignment elsewhere and the rest was history. 

He was a sweet guy, a little bland, but nice nonetheless. He treated you well, made you laugh sometimes and most importantly he wasn’t a mass murderer . He was simple - safe, probably as close to normal as you’d ever find in the world of jujutsu sorcery. It was exactly what you needed in your life after him . You push the thought to the back of your mind as you type out your response. 

You: Just doing some late night shopping. Might head to bed soon. You?

You were too tired to entertain a guest even if you couldn’t sleep. It was better to just put that out there before he asked to come over. Your phone vibrates again with another text as soon as you hit send. 

DONT FUCKING ANSWER 1: hey

You swipe the message off your screen immediately. 

Nope. No way. 

You continue your scrolling through the shop's online inventory, occasionally responding to W’s text messages. You add a couple cute tops to your shopping cart and a pair of jeans which after a while of scrolling you decide you don’t like that much and remove them from your cart. Your phone buzzes in your hands.

W: I think I’m going to head to bed now, babe. I’ll text you in the morning. Goodnight.

You go to respond when your phone buzzes again.

DONT FUCKING ANSWER 1: Are you up? Can I call you?

You swipe the text away. Another message follows.

DONT FUCKING ANSWER 2: I know you’re awake.

You roll your eyes. Persistent as ever. Entitled as ever. You should block him, you would block him, but you’ve made that mistake before. You’re a quick learner and it only took you blocking him the first time for him to get two new phones so he could blow you up from both. So you decided to just save both numbers under “DONT FUCKING ANSWER 1” and “DONT FUCKING ANSWER 2”. You’re fairly certain that one of these days you’ll have to add a “DONT FUCKING ANSWER 3, 4 and 5” to your contacts.

You huff. Once again , you swipe the text from your screen, shooting W a quick goodnight text before you toss your phone onto your bedside table after setting it to do not disturb. You turn over in bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

The warmth of the blanket is calming, soothing against the contrasting cold of your room. The quiet howl of the wind blowing outside serves almost as a lullaby, your eyes getting heavier as you let the darkness finally consume you.

Click

The rush of the wind is louder now, and you’re positive the room temperature has dipped at least four degrees. You hear the same click that woke you again within a few seconds, the sound of the wind dying and then you feel his presence before his feet even touch the ground. You know exactly who it is.

You sit up, blinking the sleep from your eyes just in time to see Suguru Geto climbing down from your window. He lands gracefully on his feet, his long dark hair bouncing with the force of the landing. 

Always one to make an entrance. 

Tonight, he’s foregone his religious robes and dons a black long sleeve and those damn sexy harem pants he used to wear. You hate the way your body responds to seeing him, your heart racing when he flashes you that grin that used to make you melt beneath him - still , makes you want to melt beneath him.

Your ex-boyfriend, Suguru.

You stare at him, not saying a word. “Ignoring me now?” He asks simply, lifting his hand to toss his bangs out of the way.

“What gave it away?” You reply, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. “Me not responding to any of your messages? Me not answering your calls or me blocking you on every form of social media available? I’m always ignoring you, Suguru.” 

Suguru grins, you know he’s grinning because you can see his white teeth shine in the dark with his lazy smile. You haven’t spoken in months now - well you haven’t. Suguru, as always, never shuts up. He insists on calling you, texting you, letting his presence be known when you’re out and about by sending his curses your way. They never do anything to harm you. He almost lets them loose like friendly dogs off of a leash, their grotesque forms finding their way to you and nuzzling against your cheek, rubbing against your leg. You’d exorcize them, but you know what they mean to him so you leave them be.

You’d ended things with Suguru a while ago; when his execution was set after he’d slaughtered an entire village and when he’d tried to get you to join him in his endeavors of “cleansing the world”. He’d tried to convince you that this was for the greater good, to make the world a better place. But you weren’t one of his cult followers and you definitely weren’t a murderer. Despite this, Suguru had… a hard time letting go.

You sigh, rubbing your temple where you feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming on. “You shouldn’t be here, Suguru. You’re a wanted man. I should report you to the higher ups.”

Suguru’s hands come up with a shrug, his tongue poking out between his lips teasingly. “Yeah. But you won’t.”

And he’s right. You won’t say anything because you can’t bear the thought of him dying. 

Suguru leans casually against the windowsill, fixing you with a wistful smile. It only makes your heart beat faster, the way Suguru never bothers to conceal what he’s feeling. Ever.

“Why have you been ignoring me? I miss you.”

But Suguru is different from the Suguru you used to know. It doesn’t mean you don’t still care for him, but it means you have to be a bit more careful with your feelings for him now.

You hum as though you’re really giving this question some thought when the answer is so fucking obvious. “Oh, I don’t know, Suguru. Maybe because associating with you means a target on my back and if I’m being honest, I’m not really in the mood for Satoru to blow a Hollow Purple through my skull.”

Suguru mulls this over, his face only portraying boredom at the mention of his former best friend. “So what have you been up to lately?” 

He always changes the subject so easily when you make a good point, not caring that you’ve clearly told him you want nothing to do with him. You don’t answer, hoping he’ll get uncomfortable enough in the heavy silence to just…leave. He doesn’t. Which is just like Suguru. It’s aggravating, but endearing at the same time. You miss his stubbornness sometimes and this reminds you of your time together.

“Been having fun with your friend?” he asks suddenly, looking over his nails. 

You stiffen, but try not to give anything away. “What are you talking about?”

Suguru laughs loudly, making you stiffen even further if possible. He knows if anyone hears him here, finds him here, you’re both so fucked. Dead. Immediately dead. But he doesn’t care. He’d like to see someone try and come kill him and he’d especially love to rip the head off of whoever tries to come kill you. More than anything though, he wants to rip the head off of the guy he’s been watching you with for the last couple of months.

“Come on. We can be friends!” He lies. “Tell me about him. What’s he liiiike?” he asks in a sing-song voice, eyes closing as he smiles widely. You debate on telling him. Will he leave faster if you just tell him you’re seeing someone else? You go against your better judgment and tell him anyway.

You keep it short and sweet, not wanting to give too much detail about W. But of course, Suguru pries for more.

“Oh? How nice for you. A fellow sorcerer, then? What grade?”

Of course he wants to know. Because Suguru wants to be the top. The top sorcerer, the top curse user, the top man in your life whether you’re with him or not. 

“Not necessarily. He’s a window.” You tell him, and you’re not sure why the way Suguru’s brows shoot up and his eyes widen make you feel so fucking embarrassed.

Suguru blinks, then looks at you with pity, his bottom lip protruding in a pout. 

“A window ? You may as well be dating one of these plebeian monkeys roaming the streets!” He throws his head back dramatically, brows furrowed as he sighs loudly. You flinch, hoping he’ll just leave after telling you how much you’ve lowered the bar for yourself.

He says your name as if he’s trying to plead with you. “You may have made the biggest mistake of your life by leaving me,” he lays his hand against his chest, flipping his bangs out of his face again. “But I can't allow you to tie yourself to the dead weight of a window.”

You scoff. “You’re not allowing me to do anything, Suguru. I like him and I don’t care that he’s a window. He knows what he’s doing. He’s not dead weight.”

“And if a curse attacks him? What will he do? He’ll be helpless to defend himself. Unless you plan on being next to him every second of his life?”

He makes a good point, but something about the way Suguru asks this makes your skin crawl. 

“He’s been okay his whole life. He won’t be attacked or killed by a curse.” You bite back, trying to convince him…and maybe yourself a little bit.

“Hmm?” Suguru pouts again as he takes a step closer to your bed. “Are you sure ?”

You sit up straight, nodding your head, trying not to betray to him how nervous he’s making you by asking you this. You know now your association with W puts him at risk.

“You promise he’ll be okay?”

You hesitate for a brief second, but you nod again. 

“And what if I can promise he won’t be?” His lips spread in a grin as he takes yet another step closer to you. You take a deep breath, steadying your racing adrenaline.

“I sincerely hope you’re not threatening my boyfriend, Suguru.”

He stops in his tracks, his head cocking to the side in curiousity. “Boyfriend? You never mentioned you were that serious about him.”

You’re not, but Suguru doesn’t need to know that. W is an innocent bystander in this and Suguru’s jealousy shouldn’t lead to W’s untimely demise. You hope this little fib prompts Suguru to drop it, maybe move on with his life even though you’re secure enough in yourself to admit that would hurt.

In true Suguru fashion, he only takes this as competition…and you kind of like that. He closes the gap between himself and you, leaning forward until your noses are touching. You don’t move away, you never have. His antics may scare others, but he’s never scared you. It’s what he loves about you. You’re up to the challenge. You meet him blow for blow. It’s why he can’t let you go. It’s why he can’t fucking bear the thought of another man wrapping his arms around you, of you finding someone else.

“Do you love him?” His voice is quiet, serious. You don’t, you’re not even sure how much you like W, but Suguru is hovering over you with his domineering presence you love so much and he smells so good. You can feel his jealousy radiating off of him and honestly, it’s fucking sexy. It only makes you want to piss him off more, so you lie again.

“I think I do, actually,” you breathe out. And even in the dark, you can see the way Suguru’s nose crinkles in disgust, disappointment even.

“A common window. You’re in love with a window ,” he stresses the last word as his hand comes up to rest on the back of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat, your body doing what it always does when Suguru’s involved – reacting. It’s the reason you don’t talk to or see him. You’re weak for him. You always have been.

“And what if I am?” You challenge him, raising your chin so that your lips are barely a breath apart. The slightest movement and your lips would be touching. Suguru’s grip tightens on the back of your neck and you resist the feeling of wanting to roll your eyes back in pleasure.

“If you are,” he says, pulling back slightly to ghost his lips over your face, down your neck and to your pulsepoint. “Maybe I’ll let you live a happy little life with him. You can go on being a Grade 1 sorcerer – exorcizing curses, protecting your feeble window lover, maybe even have weak little children with hardly any cursed energy that you’ll have to retire to protect.”

He’s really killing the mood here.

Until he bites down on your pulsepoint and you gasp into the cold air of your dorm room. The pain is immediately soothed by Suguru slowly dragging his tongue over the bruise and you can’t help the moan that rushes past your lips.

“ Or maybe I’ll just kill him .”

The threat goes straight to your core. You cross your legs underneath your blanket, the steady pulse in your center already starting to drive you insane.

Suguru is back to lapping at the wound on your neck as though he didn’t just say he would kill your lover…boyfriend… friend…what the fuck ever W is to you. 

“I’d never let you kill him,” you pant into his hair. You don’t touch him, not yet at least. Suguru has always liked it that way; him making you so desperate with his own touch until you can’t do anything but grip onto him.

“You couldn’t stop me if you tried. You’re strong,” he reaches for the blanket and peels it back, groaning when he feels you shiver as you’re exposed to the cool night air. “You’re not strong enough to stop me though. You’re not stupid enough to try either.”

He runs his nose back up your neck, along your jawline until he’s face to face with you again. His free hand comes up to glide through the valley of your breasts and he sighs longingly, like he’s been dreaming of touching you here for a long time. He has. 

Suguru has no qualms in admitting that he thinks of you always, watches you constantly. That he fucks his own hand to the thought of you whenever he has a free moment to himself. You never respond to him or acknowledge his presence and it makes him crazy. But he likes to think he knows you better than you know yourself. He knows you think of him too. You like that he chases you. Otherwise you’d have changed your number long ago. You’re still his. It doesn’t matter who you’re with. 

But Suguru also has no qualms in admitting the thought of someone touching what’s his, especially a lowly window, makes him irate. The hand on the back of your neck slides up to your hair where he grips it and tugs a little harder than he intended. Doesn’t matter. He gets the response he wanted when your lips part with a soft moan. He stares down at you, eyes half-lidded, pretty lips parted, chest rising and falling with quick breaths and he can’t wait to ruin you for your little window boyfriend. 

“Break up with him,” he commands and he snarls quietly when he sees that defiant smirk he loves spread across your face. 

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll kill him and then I’ll kill you.”

“No, you won’t.”

You stare him down, not backing down from his challenge and Suguru groans, his hips coming forward to press against the mattress in search of friction. This little argument is making him so hard he’s starting to lose focus, but he wants you to agree to leave your stupid boyfriend before he goes any further. Not because he’ll feel bad for making a move while you’re in a relationship, but because he has bigger plans for the long-term and he needs you freed up for it.

He yanks your head back by your hair, grinning down at you while you return the same vicious smile. Fuck, he loves you. It’s fine if you won’t agree to leave the window. It’ll only make this more fun for him.

He bends down, his lips hovering over yours once again before he says, “I want you.”

You contemplate keeping up the ruse that you and W are dating, that you love him when in reality you’re so fucking bored out of your mind with him, with life, with everything. You won’t agree to break up with W, because you’re not really even dating him. Besides, this will make it more fun for you.

You hold Suguru’s gaze before telling him, “Just for tonight.” It’s a lie. You know if he shows up again you’ll give in, but it’s all he needs to hear before his lips are crashing into yours, taking everything you have to offer.

Your hands move into his hair and Suguru shivers under your touch, moaning when you open your mouth for his tongue to slide past your lips. Your tongues dance together, tasting each other the way you used to until you have to pull apart, gasping for air as you stare each other down.

You release Suguru’s hair and push him back to standing. Your fingers slide down his torso to the waistband of his pants. He watches you closely, tongue darting out absentmindedly to drag across his bottom lip. You slide your hand into the front of his pants, palming his cock through his briefs. His hips come forward to press into your hand, a quiet sigh escaping him as his hands come down to cup your face.

He bends down to give you a quick kiss.

“Let me fuck your mouth,” he says, still rutting into your palm.

You nod, sliding your other hand into his waistband and tugging his pants and briefs down at the same time. Suguru steps back briefly, grunting with displeasure at the loss of contact, to kick off his shoes and pull his pants all the way down. As he does this, you shift to lay on your stomach on the bed, watching the way his cock springs forth from his pants and smacks loud against his own stomach.

When Suguru comes back to the edge of your bed, he goes back to cupping your face with his hands. You take the time to admire his pretty dick illuminated in the moonlight. The tip is red, weeping pre-cum already. You bring your hand forward, gripping the shaft and squeezing. Suguru hisses, hips bucking forward into your hand. He softly places his own hand on the back of your head. You roll your tongue out and give his tip a gentle squeeze, letting the pre-cum drip slowly on to your tongue. You missed the taste of him. You can’t lie. 

You let your eyes roam up Suguru’s body until you make eye contact with those deep brown eyes. Suguru’s hand presses down on your head, coaxing you forward.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this,” Suguru groans above you. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You obey with no hesitation, letting your lips fall open. He slowly rolls his hips forward, his cock entering the warm cavern of your mouth.

“ Fuck, ” Suguru moans. You lift your hands, caressing his thighs and opening your throat as Suguru slides easily into your mouth until it touches your throat. You watch as he tilts his head back, sighing softly.

You love this feeling. You can kick the head off of a curse, snap someone’s neck with no problem. But it’s when you’re making Suguru Geto – Special Grade curse user, mass murderer, wanted fugitive – come undone before you that you feel the most powerful.

You hum when you feel Suguru’s cock touch the back of your throat, your pride swelling when you feel his legs shake at the sensation. He pushes your head down more with both hands now, his body coming forward to loom over you. He doesn’t move, just holds you there breathing harshly over your form as you hold his dick in the back of your throat.

“God, fucking shit ,” he groans through gritted teeth as he pushes you so far down your nose is buried in the soft hair that lies above the base of his cock. You feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but you make no move to wipe them away. Suguru likes that. He pulls out sharply with a loud gasp, taking one deep breath before he grabs the base of his length and plunges himself back into your mouth in one swift motion.

“You know how I feel about this mouth, baby,” he grunts, pulling out just to slam himself into your throat over and over and over. You moan around his dick, pulling a gasping breath from Suguru as he slams into your mouth relentlessly. 

“Look at me,” he moans out. “I wanna watch you while I fuck your throat until you cry.”

You peer up at him through your lashes and Suguru watches as the moonlight illuminates the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. This is his favorite look on you. You with your lips wrapped around his dick while he literally fucks your mouth until you’re crying. He has to bite the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t come down your throat when the tears finally fall, leaving a sparkling trail down your cheeks.

He wants to keep fucking your face like this, but if he’s being honest, he knows he won’t last long. He’s been holding out for this moment where he gets to have you again. He hasn’t been with anyone since you. He’s been waiting only for you . The thought of finally having you again makes his balls tighten and he pulls out of your mouth with a loud POP, motioning for you to get up.

“Take it off,” he demands, pointing to your clothes.

You waste no time, stripping yourself of your shirt, shorts and panties. Suguru crawls on to the bed, pushing you down onto your back as he climbs over you. He drinks in the sight of you beneath him, naked and as beautiful as he remembers before he dives down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, moaning loudly when he tastes the mixture of you and himself on your tongue.

His hand slides down between your bodies, past your chest, over one of your hardened nipples, down your stomach and further until Suguru’s fingers find the warm heat between your legs. He sighs into your mouth as his fingers spread your folds to find you soaking wet.

“Do you let window touch you like this?” He asks, sliding a finger over your clit. You whimper beneath him, watching as he smirks above you. He would guess not, but he likes making you squirm a little anyway.

He rubs lazy circles on the sensitive nub, bringing his face down to kiss on the now darkening bruise forming on your pulsepoint from his earlier bite.

“Has he made you come yet?” He murmurs into your neck, kissing and sucking as he makes his way back up to your mouth. He slots his lips against yours, swallowing your mewls when he flicks his fingers roughly over your clit before you can answer.

Suguru feels his cock throb listening to the sounds you make. It’s been so long since he’s heard them. He wants to hear more.

“Does he get to taste you?” Suguru asks, sliding his fingers up and down your folds before bringing his fingers up to his mouth. He turns his fingers in front of him and observes the way the moonlight makes your slick glisten against his skin. He parts his lips, slowly slipping his fingers into his mouth and sucking, eyes rolling back at the heady taste of you. You watch him with lust filled eyes, moaning at the action.

You haven’t answered a single question. Suguru won’t let you. The moment the question leaves his lips, he’s touching you, overstimulating you. Your body feels like it’s on fire beneath him.

“I fucking hope not, baby,” he says as he shifts his body to slide his hips between your thighs. You feel his length press against you and you whine, rolling your hips up to meet Suguru’s. He chuckles. Suguru bends down to kiss you again, whispering against your lips. “If he’s tasted you, I really will just kill him .”

You don’t have time to react as Suguru rears his hips back before thrusting straight into you. You cry out sharply, back arching until your sensitive nipples are pressed into Suguru’s chest. He dips down, taking one of the soft peaks into his mouth, rolling it expertly with his tongue. Your breathing is coming erratically now, but you know Suguru. He isn’t going to let up.

He gives you about three seconds to adjust to the way he absolutely fills your pussy before he’s moving, bottoming out on his second thrust. You wrap your legs around his waist, your hands flying up into his hair.

Suguru moves off of one nipple to move to the neglected one and takes it into his mouth. Your grip on his tresses tighten and he groans. The vibrations make your walls clamp down around him and he sucks harder on the sensitive bud until he decides he wants to kiss you. He lets go with another loud POP and kisses his way up the swell of your breasts, up your neck to your mouth where he swallows your cries as he fucks into you.

Suguru almost forgot how tight you were, how your pussy squeezes his cock for dear life every time he’s inside of you. He feels a tingle run up his spine at the familiar sensation and slows down just a bit so he doesn’t come yet.

He rolls his hips lazily into yours, nothing but the lewd squelching sounds of your bodies meeting and both yours and Suguru’s soft whimpers filling the air.

“I could live in your pussy forever,” he whispers, sliding his hand up to your throat and resting it there. He doesn’t squeeze, he never does but he knows you like the thrill of the idle threat.

You say nothing, eyes squeezed shut as you whine softly beneath him. 

“Let me have you forever, baby,” he begs.

You shake your head, keeping your eyes closed. It’s so easy to lose yourself in him, to give him all of you. He’ll consume you and in this moment, you’d let him.

“I can’t, Suguru.”

He cups your cheek in his hand as he continues his slow thrusts.

“I’ll take care of you. I swear.”

You know he’s close. He gets so needy when he is.

“I promise, baby,” he kisses your forehead, trailing kisses down the side of your face, your neck, back up to your lips. “You’ll never want for anything. I just need you with me. I miss you. I love you. Please .”

You can’t. You won’t. You’ve resisted him this whole time. You’ve fought the urge all this time. No contact, no communication.

And yet, Suguru still has your legs spread wide open as he buries himself to the hilt with each thrust.

The tears well up again. Because you know you’re done for. You were always done for when it came to him. 

At the sight of fresh tears rolling down your cheeks, Suguru bends down, kissing them away. He has his answer, but he’ll wait for you to say it. Right now, he just needs this moment with you.

His hips pick up speed, his hand coming down to grip your hip so tightly you’re sure you’ll have a bruise there tomorrow. He thrusts into you deeply, grunting in pleasure at the feel of you getting tighter around him. 

Suguru slides his hand around to your lower back, lifting your hips for a better angle as he slams into you. You cry out at the slight change in position, feeling him hitting deeper and deeper with each stroke.

“Suguru, please”, you whine, tugging his hair so his forehead comes down to meet yours. He groans at your breaths mingling as he pumps into you.

“Tell me what you want, baby. It’s yours. I’m yours. I’ll give you anything. Anything. Fucking anything –” He’s babbling now and you know he’s about to cum.

You let one hand slip from Suguru’s hair to slide down between your bodies. Your fingers find your clit and you rub in time with his thrusts. Suguru moans, eyes watching you play with yourself while he fucks into you.

“So fucking sexy. I never wanna leave this pussy. I swear. Fuck, baby. I love you. Come with me. Leave with me.”

The proposition startles you for all of two seconds before your orgasm shoots through you, a broken cry of his name ripping from your throat. 

Suguru slams his lips against yours, smothering your cries as he pumps into you harder, faster. He pants loudly before he buries his face in your neck when he feels his cock pulse hard inside you, a guttural groan emerging from deep within his chest as hot spurts of cum fill you up.

You’re both trying to catch your breath, holding each other’s sweaty forms tightly. You don’t know how long you hold each other for. You only know that you must have drifted off to sleep shortly after because when you wake up, the room is about four degrees colder again and Suguru is halfway out the window.

You shoot up in your bed calling out to him. He turns to face you, the same lazy grin from earlier back on his face.

“Yes?” He says, tilting his head to the side curiously.

Even in the throes of passion, you know Suguru only speaks his truth. He never hides his feelings. Not now. Not ever. He had wanted you to go with him before, but you weren’t a murderer and you had lived a life before Suguru Geto that you were sure you could go back to.

Now you’ve lived life without Suguru Geto and you weren’t sure you wanted to spend the rest of your life living it without him.

You watch him for a moment as he sits perched on your windowsill, his hair blowing in the wind. He looks exactly like the type of monster they warn you about when you’re studying to be a sorcerer. But he’s your monster and you know him well enough to know that you really would never want for anything. You sit for awhile, wondering if what the fuck you’re about to do is smart. It fucking isn’t. You know it isn’t. You’re essentially signing your own death warrant, but…you can’t let him go. Not like this. Not ever.

So you wordlessly slide out from under the blankets, slip your clothes and shoes on and follow Suguru out the window.

#jujutsu kaisen suguru #getou suguru x y/n #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #suguru geto #getou suguru smut #getou suguru #jjk suguru #one shot #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk #geto suguru #jealousy #suguru geto fic #suguru geto fanfic #smut #anime and manga #my fic #romance #yandere #geto x reader #geto x you #getou x y/n #getou x reader #suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou

[elementaskylos345]

Dread Within the Cabin

An Island of the Slaughtered fanfic

In an effort to seek temporary sanctuary from the torment of Wawanakwa Island and its restless and angered spirits, Chris McLean falls head first out of the kettle and into the fire.

|TW| firearms, disassociation |TW|

Chris slammed the door behind him, breathing heavily as he backed away from the door, eventually bumping into a workbench and leaning on it. His eyes flicked to look towards the busted window - wisps of thin light crept around the side closest to the door. All then fell silent.

The light then faded, leaving Chris alone. After at least a minute he finally let go of the breath he was holding, lightheadedness swimming in his skull.

“Fucking hell…” He murmured as he fell to the floor. He groaned and shifted himself, resting his arms on his knees, staring at the ground. His face was dirty, bruised, and cut while his hair was rugged and unkempt. He'd spent… two or so days lost and unable to find his team. Even where he knew they'd be, they weren't there. It's as if the island itself was keeping him away, tormenting him with spirits.

He left them here with a killer, he knew he did, but he was coming to save them now. Doing the right thing in the end is what matters, right? Like living a life of sin but turning to Christ - God will forgive.

He let out a stressed laugh. Then a chuckle. And then more laughter.

Chris didn't believe in God. But he was still right by coming here and rescuing the remaining teenagers. Hell, maybe after they all get through this he could do some interviews and finally get eyes back on him-

Chris jolted as a TV in the corner flicked on. Its screen was cracked and bloodied… as well as the cart it sat upon. He squinted as he slowly stood up and inspected it from afar, not daring to get any closer. It wasn't just blood that was on the TV there also seemed to be… hair… maybe a bit of flesh… on the corner. Chris felt sick to his stomach.

Death was all over this island now yet he hadn't grown numb to it. Maybe it was the constant terror, maybe it was his mind still not being caught up.

Through the static Chris saw… something. A face maybe? Glasses? He couldn't quite tell, not at this distance. The screen then turned off before flicking back on again. He tilted his head in confused suspicion, taking in the now clear image. It was an image familiar to him. A hint of nostalgia surrounding days in the arcade came to mind.

The familiar green vector graphics on that black background with the angular text. Battlezone. He'd spent far too long in the arcade playing this - it was very impressive back then. He snapped back to reality and to the fear he should be feeling. Chris squinted his eyes and slowly approached before stopping, looking out the window… he felt the need to block that off… he just felt eyes on him from over there. Be it Beth or Justin he didn't care either way he didn't want anyone looking at him without his knowledge.

So Chris took a few minutes to crudely cover the window with a nearby tarp, using a few nails quietly hammered into place to keep it up. It wouldn't last but it would do. As he stepped off of the ladder he nearly had a heart attack when he noticed the cart and TV had moved to be next to him. The ladder clattered to the floor in response to him practically jumping off of it. He took a moment to breathe, staring at the ominous mechanical box before him. The days old blood that lined the left side of the TV and pooled at its base made him uneasy.

Chris huffed as he finally gathered himself, more closely inspecting the TV while still not daring to lay a hand on it or the cart. The first thing he noticed was the atari controller sat gently on top of the box TV, inviting him to pick it up and begin playing. His eyes followed the cable downwards to the atari console. Then the consol plugged into the TV. All was well so far.

But the TV wasn't plugged in. It didn't have a cord to plug with and this shack currently had no power.

Chris shuddered at the realization. As if the situation couldn't get more supernatural. His eyes fell onto the controller and how it beckoned for him. It insisted. It was for him. He nearly picked it up… but hesitated. If he's going to be distracted he needs to be able to defend himself… that's partially why he came here in the first place - to arm himself.

So he left the TV and moved back over to the workbench. There were what you'd expect - hammers, saws, screwdrivers, the like… but there were also a few firearms. Hunting rifles and a shotgun. Damn. He'd forgotten to move them into his home before filming… or maybe this was one of the restricted shacks used for set building and such? It didn't matter now and he didn't care to remember. He just picked up a crowbar and walked back over to the TV to grab the controller.

…

“What am I doing?” He asked himself before stepping away. Yeah, what WAS he doing? He huffed. “Playing a clearly haunted game on an island full of ghosts that want to kill you, good job McLean.” he scolded himself before turning his back to the box and moving to the door.

The moment he laid his hand on the handle a sheer noise erupted from behind him, like the dying wails of a beast put through so many filters it came out like garbled static. He whipped around and swung the crowbar, wracking the TV right on its side with a resounding thud. He stared at the TV and the TV stared back, a faint static hum in the air. Sweat rolled down Chris’ brow as he swallowed the lump in his throat - he could swear he saw eyes behind those pixels.

He then noticed the missing controller. He eyed the surrounding area before realizing that the controller was at his feet… this spirit was no longer asking but demanding. He stared into the vector graphics for a moment before finally nodding in agreement.

“Alright… alright… I'll play.”

He shakily picked up the controller before gently pushing the cart back about a foot so he could sit with his back against the door and still see the screen. He was below the TV screen but he had no idea how long he'd be kept here so he might as well get comfortable. He laid the crowbar across his lap and pressed the button on the controller, starting the game of Battlezone.

Chris immediately noticed that the environment was off. A scene of distant mountains and green squares and triangles as obstacles was no more. The background was all but gone and the obstacles now resembled infinitely tall rectangles. Immediately the hair on the back of his neck rose but he nonetheless familiarized himself with the controls.

Not only had it been several decades since he last played but he was used to the arcade cabinet and not the atari version. The arcade cabinet had two joysticks that controlled the two treads of the tank the player drove, using the position of the two joysticks to determine how the tank moved. All that was now condensed into one joystick.

You'd think that would make it easier but all the skill he built up all those years ago was severely hampered. He turned his attention to the top left to see where the enemy tank would be.

[Enemy is to th rigleft]

[Enemy in rangeft]

[Enemy is to the lefange]

[Enemy ]

That was very helpful. His eyes went back to the battleground. He began to scan the area to his left, deciding that maybe the word left showing up in most of the messages might’ve meant something. The background scrolled as he turned, revealing more of the nothing and nonsensical line placements. He also saw more infinitely tall rectangles… but no enemy tank. He also didn't hear any missiles coming. So he continued spinning.

The radar feed in the top left continued to spit out nonsensical garbage as he turned. As he spun around to the right he could finally see some geometry that made sense - a large mountain off in the distance, much like the one on Wawanakwa. He'd now scanned the entire area and still didn't see the enemy tank and his nerves were at a fever pitch. He took a moment to look at his surroundings to see if perhaps all of this was a distraction.

Then he heard the sound of something firing in the game. He jolted and began reversing and his eyes snapped back to the screen, hoping he was being shot from the side. He witnessed the bullet whiz, by the front of his tank. He sucked in some air and began to strafe to the left - where the bullet came from. More bullets flew past the front of his tank. As he continued to strafe he began to dread more and more what the enemy tank might look like, unable to tell if horrifying vector graphics would look better than… whatever else might show up here.

It was a slow process but he eventually moved backwards enough to see the enemy at the left side of his screen. It was a lot tamer than he was expecting as it was just a corrupted tank model. That being said, considering how simple the graphics are this felt like an abomination from hell.

Nonetheless he was still in a terrible position. Like first person shooters after it, in Battlezone you can only fire from the center of the screen. The enemy was to the left. Not good.

Thankfully, he hadn't fired once in this whole process and there's a firing delay, about half a second. It'd be tight but he might be able to turn the tank after the enemy fired and hit it before it can shoot him. It's far more likely he'd die but it was worth a shot. He then backed into an obstacle and died. He blinked. He forgot that could happen.

Once he respawned he turned to the right and saw the corrupted enemy model. He made sure there were no obstacles in the way before lining up the shot and fired. However, the enemy moved out of the way. He hummed and moved forward to make chase. Now that he was in the prime position he was able to close the distance and destroy the enemy, causing the enemy “tank” to explode into corrupted vector chunks.

With his death and the death of the enemy tank leading to no horror brought him some comfort. A small part of him considered that maybe this spirit just really wanted to play some Battlezone. So, the back and forth continued. Playing against an intelligent being was certainly very different from playing against ai. There was even a moment of peace where the two of them “danced” by driving forward and reversing rapidly before continuing the battle. It was… nice.

After constant torment this moment of peace and, honestly, fun was refreshing. He'd almost forgotten the danger he was in, the nostalgia and newfound comfort in the game lulling Chris’ anxieties.

Honestly, after a while, he was convinced that this spirit - who he figured was probably Harold - just wanted someone to play with. It was so strangely wholesome… though, he should probably leave soon. He'd lost track of the time and still had to find out how to get back to his crew.

But he just couldn't pull himself away from the game, enthralled by the activity, he and Harold now trying to see if they can shoot each other's projectiles.

Shoot

Shoot

The image of one of the hunting rifles popped into his mind, almost as if he was looking at it at that moment. He blinked, a fuzzy feeling filling his mind, causing him to lift his thumb off of the controller and stop all movement in game. He groaned and rubbed his eyes… his hands felt full… like a weight was in them. He looked down at the controller then past the TV to the dark environment around him. It suddenly didn't feel real.

He rubbed his eyes again and shook his head, fully dropping the atari controller. What the hell was going on? He felt detached from himself and from the things around him, like he was floating in a void. He looked back to the screen only to be met with the barrel of the enemy tank, his eyes half lidded and confused. He waited for the tank to shoot.

Shoot

Shoot

Chris blinked into awareness, his body once again feeling like his own. He was standing in front of the workbench, staring at the ceiling. He furrowed his brow and looked around to catch his bearings. Everything was as he left it - tarp on the window, tools displaced from his rummaging, haunted TV in front of the door to the outside… but one of the hunting rifles was missing. He looked down at his hands, quickly dropping what was held within them.

Well, he found the rifle. He was holding it to himself, clearly with harmful intentions. Chris just stood there for a moment to catch his breath. How close was he to death just now? Was Harold just toying with him?

After a moment he steeled his gaze with a huff before turning to leave. He grabbed the cart with the TV and thrust it aside, just barely throwing the TV to the ground. Turns out he'd lost at some point while he was hallucinating. Chris waved his hand dismissively towards the box and picked up the crowbar before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

As he left he reminded himself that he was doing the right thing. He was saving who was left. The police were here combing the island for the killer. This anger was justified - maybe - but his conscience would be clear. These spirits would NOT kill him.

They would NOT be the end of him.

He refused to die on this island.

#elementa art #digital art #fanfic #island of the slaughtered #total slaughter island #fanart #td chris mclean #tw gun mention #tw disassociation #my art #td harold

[tethered-heartstrings]

I know that was a joke post but now I am genuinely curious what Hannibal would want (and be allowed) to have as his last meal.

let me start off by saying this started one place and took a huge turn (sorry) but... this got me thinking. my assumption is he was tried in maryland. maryland abolished the death penalty in 2013, but if he was tried under federal and not state, death penalty is still technically on the table in all 50 states.

unlike other states, maryland does not offer a special last meal to those about to be executed, and they are offered whatever is on the menu at the prison they are residing. i don't think that if he was charged federally it would have necessarily changed his food situation.

given that hannibal was held at bshci, he probably would have had whatever they were serving that day. we saw in s2 with will that it wasn't anything particularly exciting. canned/processed/boxed food. the more gourmet meals he got while imprisoned were definitely due to a special deal he had with alana. it's not directly specified in the show to my knowledge, but pretty sure he got special privileges for helping her and margot. but also if it means hearing him complain less, all the better.

that being said, there is a chance alana would break the maryland tradition and actually offer him a special meal. most requests deny alcohol or tobacco, but again, we're humoring a special meal.

now for the fun part. obviously hannibal wouldn't be given human meat. some inmates in other states asked not only for a meal but to share the meal with someone. and i think hannibal would definitely request to have a last meal with will since the last meal they had together (at least on screen) was the meal before mizumono.

and i think it would be well within the realm for hannibal to want to recreate this meal, maybe even going so far as to ask to make it himself. +/- if alana would allow for that, maybe if everything was precut and he wasn't near anything sharp. if he wanted will to share the meal with him, i'd be curious to see what will would do. he'd know hannibal was on death row, it'd be all over the news, jack would tell him, etc. and i think he would seek out the result of hannibal's trial if he was not sitting in the room as he was sentenced. knowing he indirectly put him there, and i'd place bets on him opening that hand written letter asking for his company one last time and he'd go to see hannibal and share that meal with him. to dine one last time together.

and i wonder how each of them would see it. will never answering if he wanted a sacrifice, yet one now sat across from him. how during the mizumono meal, will said "that'd make this our last supper" to which hannibal responds "of this life" which now truly is the last meal of this life, of hannibal's life. maybe for will, too, in a way. for how good could food taste or sate knowing your conjoined, blurred half is about to die, and that nagging guilt in your chest that it's your fault. and the question of if they could survive separation. and maybe the question was more up in the air when it was possibly hannibal who had to live without him, but now will is faced with the reality that he has to live without hannibal. and in some alternate life it would have been easier to stay with his wife and never see hannibal, but knowing he was alive was enough, and he'd no longer have that crutch.

but hannibal seeing it as almost a redo for before the slaughter in his kitchen. going back to a moment they had some peace, even if brief, life as he knew it was brief now. but still, someone he loved, the only person he loved, sitting across from him eating and drinking wine together. maybe in silence, i don't know. smiles would be exchanged; hannibal's genuinely happy and will's a bit sad. to be so fully and deeply and intimately seen. now there was no running away together anymore. will would leave and hannibal could only hope will would go to his execution.

and i think will would go. i don't know if it would be a "want" situation, but a "need". to see hannibal lecter taken down almost so effortlessly. the unkillable finally killed. the man he couldn't shoot the two times he had a gun in his face, the man he dropped his gun for and let himself be gutted and held by, the man he pulled a knife on and still couldn't take down. ultimately, in a way, will took him down. hannibal surrendered because will rejected him. will didn't need a weapon, he just needed words and a closed off heart. and within minutes, it'd be over.

but what happens after? the remains of inmates not claimed by family get kept in the prison cemetery. hannibal has no family to claim him, will is the closest to family he has. but what if will claims him, then what? will doesn't know what hannibal's final wishes are; to be cremated, buried? maybe he does know without hannibal having to explicitly say. to eat you like the sacrificial lamb you are.

my guess is a body executed via lethal injection (chosen method for maryland) would not be safe to eat. sodium thiopental is a barbituate like the one used for animal euthanasia, but it isn't the part of the "cocktail" that actually causes death. i know animals euthanized (with a different barbituate) and eaten can kill the animal that eats them, so there is a chance eating hannibal could do the same thing. consuming potassium chloride (the deadly part of the injection) in large quantities can cause a lot of side effects/health detriments and in theory, eating enough can cause cardiac failure, but i don't know the oral bioavailabity in comparison to iv.

as romantic as it seems, i don't think will would eat hannibal knowing it could kill him, and tbh, i don't see hannibal wanting will to knowing his death might be imminent. even if it meant being together in the afterlife, that wasn't how will was going to die. like yeah "death only by my hand" but it's not the same. maybe part of will's punishment is having to stay alive without him. i do think hannibal might if the roles were reversed, though.

if will ended up giving hannibal a graveplot (probably unmarked so it doesn't end up desecrated), or even sprinkling his ashes somewhere, i know will would visit him again. maybe not for awhile, maybe denial or anger, but he would go back. i know hannibal said he could never go back to lithuania, so maybe will takes him there and buries him next to mischa so they can be together, finally and forever. maybe he doesn't take him home, knowing how much hannibal stayed away when he was alive. there are a lot of things will could do, tbh.

#will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal meta #hannigram #hannigram meta #murder husbands #the curious clown #anonymous #did i accidentally write a mini fic or something jfc #sorry anon... #but i technically answered your question...?? #i think will might eat hannibal if he died or was killed outside of prison post fall #but not after imprisonment. bc i think their dynamic is inherently different and they didn't get the same kind of closure as twotl offered #this was such a clusterfuck of just data and info and emotions and meta(?) mixed into it

[contrivedchaos]

Being a high Seraphim is not a stress-free job. There’s the constant screening of incoming souls. Determining which ones need to be dealt with directly, and which can be pawned off to the nearest Dominion or Archangel, who eagerly await orders at Heaven’s every beck and call.

Despite holding one of the most prestigious positions in all of Heaven, and sitting atop the highest court known to the immortal realms, Sera of the Seraphim is not immune to what those plebeian Winners would call the common migraine.

Particularly now, after word has spread that the first Sinner ever to be redeemed from the trenches of Hell had magically materialized in her boardroom that very morning. And said Sinner is currently being given the grand welcome tour by Emily, while her sister and superior looks down at her tablet, frantically flipping through her records aimlessly, trying to figure out how the fuck this is actually happening to her in the first place.

As if Adam’s death during the Extermination hadn’t been enough, now she has to deal with the fact that Souls can be redeemed. That she was wrong, possibly about everything, and will now have to explain to Heaven’s elders how this was allowed to happen under her watch.

Sighing heavily, Sera puts her tablet down on the table. She uses her fingers to scratch her forehead several times, trying to release the gnawing, heavy ache that’s begun punching behind her eyelids. She takes a sip of water, and then downs the entire fucking glass, trying to process all the events rapidly unfolding right in front of her, and having no idea how to even begin explaining any of it.

Lute and the Exterminators had been hit hard by Adam’s passing, and his former second-in-command is already taking charge of his entire fleet. Sera had already spied on the smaller angel during her impromptu meeting with Lilith, realizing that an entirely different house of cards may be soon about to fall, once Hell’s ruler and his daughter find out their matriarch has been staying here for the last 7 years.

That contract had been Adam’s business. It had nothing to do with her, so she’d figured she could stay out of it, blissfully unaware. However, she’s not sure now how she could ever be so lucky, not when that arrogant, pompous imbecile had always been trying to test her limits, and never knew when to keep his fucking mouth shut. Or call it quits, when it looked like he actually might have underestimated Hell’s forces so badly.

Soon, all of Heaven will know about her own lack of foresight and incompetence. It had been her job to keep the First Man in line. Keep him sated with his own pet projects, and keep him happy, even if it meant putting her own people at risk by allowing him to play army. The court elders didn’t need to know how she’d done it, just that he was content. He could get away with slaughtering thousands of innocents, so long as her own hands were free of blood, and the other Winners under her care, the important ones, remained safe.

Sera groans loudly into the room, laying her head atop her arms upon the table, coming to grips with the fact that with Adam gone, this mess is entirely hers to clean up now. No matter how much she doesn’t want to, she’ll have to be the one to handle the PR of a Sinner ascending to Heaven, as well as the political nightmare that’s about to unfold once Charlie Morningstar finds out she’d been right all along.

She’ll let Emily handle Sir Pentious for now. If she’s lucky, maybe the Seraphim of Joy can distract their people long enough that they don’t even realize the implications of what his ascension means. In the meantime, she can figure out how to deal with Lilith and Lute, and the absolute mayhem she needs to prevent from happening in the world far down below. As well as preventing the fight from coming to her own door.

Adam had gone off for days at a time after other Exterminations, celebrating and participating in such horrid debaucheries, that his absence may not be missed for a few days yet. That could give her some time. Time to form a plan on how to deal with Hell’s denizens, and figure out what her next step should be on the matter of redemption, depending on what answers she can uncover.

The trouble is knowing who she can trust with this type of information. She can’t go to Lucifer. She hadn’t exactly been kind to him by agreeing to cast him out, and he’s the type to immediately tell his daughter that her plan had worked, which would be horrible for her. She’s not ready for the types of gossipy, accusatory headlines that could come out of a disaster like that. 

She also can’t talk to anyone else in the angelic court; they’ll immediately report her to the elders, and then she’ll be done for, and may never be able to serve in any official capacity in Heaven again.

The more she thinks about it, the more anxious she becomes. The more anxious she becomes, the more her head throbs with pain. The more her head hurts, the more water she drinks, which isn’t actually helping. Oh, Heaven’s to Betsy, is her only solution really going to be reaching out to her?

They haven’t seen each other, or even spoken, since Lucifer fell, and the prospect of turning to her of all people leaves a dry, chalky taste in Sera’s mouth. Makes her feel a little woozy, and like she has to lay her head on her arms once again, to stop the spinning, twirling dizziness of the room, that only serves to make her headache even worse.

There really is no other option. Every other road, every other mental map she tries to chart, ultimately leads to total, near-immediate retribution. What she needs now is to be discrete. And hope that at least some of the rapport she used to hold with this particular person…well, that there’s any of it left to draw upon in the first place. Her social goodwill is running ridiculously low at the present moment, so that’s honestly the best outcome she can reasonably expect at this time. 

Sera sighs. She stands up, and she paces. Sits down again, then stands up, and paces some more. She drinks more water, and paces again, before slumping in her chair like her bones are made of marmalade, and screeches like a barn owl out of frustration at what she has to do.

Activating the screen on her tablet, she scrolls and opens an old, nearly forgotten folder, which contains a number of certain contacts. Lucifer is in there, as well as several of the Goetia. And even some of the friendlier Deadly Sins and overlords, who she never actually calls, but thinks it’s in her best interest to keep on hand, just in case.

She starts at the bottom of the list, and then scrolls up, unintentionally dragging out this dreadful, uncomfortable feeling, for as long as she possibly can. When Sera finally reaches her number, she stares at it for much longer than necessary. Her body tightens, and she swallows her heart that has jumped up into her throat. Her finger hovers precariously over that little icon, and she fluffs up like a bird trying to get water out of its feathers.

She looks at the name next to the icon one last time, mentally fortifying herself for what’s to come. Then her finger drops onto the screen, and she pushes it, screaming silently within the endless void that is her own head, at the drastic step she is about to take. 

She watches as the calling icon appears on her screen. After the second ring, her heart finally sinks back down into her chest. After the third, it’s already crawling up her esophagus again. 

After the fourth, the call remains unanswered, and she is immediately taken to voicemail, which is honestly so much worse than she had anticipated. 

Sera listens and prepares herself to hear that voice once again. And when it comes, she is filled with a multitude of fuzzy, complicated feelings. She almost wants to hang up, as the pre-recorded callback message echoes endlessly between her ears, like the pattern of soft drums:

“Hello, this is Carmilla Carmine. I’m not available right now. Please leave a message, and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.”

#hazbin hotel #sera hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #carmilla hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #fanfic ideas #fanfic mapping #story mapping #my fics #mine #sera x carmilla #carmilla x sera #angelic ballet #seramilla

[ceo-of-sloppy-men]

I want to pick Zevlor off the street like a stray cat, wrap him in a blanket freshly warmed and let him cry in my arms. He deserved better. Both acts he was in all he got was hurt. First he had to get help with Kahga and the goblins so that his people wouldn’t be slaughtered when they were just trying to survive. Then his people actually got slaughtered so close to the finish line, and he’s left burdened with all of that guilt. You can see it on his face when you save him: he didn’t want to be saved. He didn’t want you to pull him out of the mindflayer pod, he wanted to be left there to rot for what he did. The absolute didn’t just tempt him, it broke him into a husk of a man.

Then we’re just jarred when he shows back up with his oaths at the end. It isn’t fair. We get to see so many characters have such cathartic arcs but zevlor is missing. We see Rolan finally getting his wizard tower, Alfira and Lakrissa making their way in the world, our companions healing and growing, but not Zevlor. He was an original character from EA we spent years with him, in new saves, smiling when he’d come on screen, and all we got was two acts of pain and anguish, then a jarring ending.

I realize that time constraints and resources are a big part but this isn’t some act 2 character. This is an original early access character. We see so much for Raphael, Rolan, Dammon, Alfira, Mol - fuck even Aradin appears! Yet nothing for Zevlor, and he’s just as important as the rest of them! He gets villanized in act 2, gets the perfect set up for at the very least an act 3 quest (if not companion) and nothing. Nadda. Zilch.

Where was our Loroaken moment? Where was our Shadowheart moment? Where was our freedom moment where we could help our beloved tiefling realize he is loved? Why must we be hurt in this way? I wish he had gotten this love during early acces and part of me kicks myself for not loudly shouting about him from every roof top until launch, but this still hurts. No one needed to shout for the others. No one had to ask for Dammon or Alfira or Mol. We just got them and that was amazing. You can’t even say it’s because he was in act 2 because all the other tieflings got content there to! Hells, we get TWO new companions and a gaggle of camp npcs in act 2&3 and you’re telling me we get nothing for Zevlor in act 3. Nothing? We couldn’t even set aside a tiny quest for him?

The only thing we did get is if we didn’t find him in act 2 and that is heartbreaking. It’s not even a better option because it’s just his lifeless corpse. It feels like tossing salt in the wound. A big fat mocking laugh. I know I shouldn’t be mad and I’m not saying I hate Larian for this, but my heart aches. The only other option for him is death! You only see him in act 3 if he’s DEAD! They’ve fixed so much stuff and that’s wonderful but no one is talking about how zevlor either disappears or just dies. Karlach is getting a fix, there’s dataminded evidence of Halsin getting more content, we get character customization mid game, people are calling for a Minthara fix, and that’s wonderful they’re listening. I just wish I could be loud enough to be heard as well.

#I’m sorry about the rant I’m just emotional over this #he’s my favourite character #and it pains me to remember this #I’m so happy other characters get more content #but I wish zevlor did to #bg3 #bg3 zevlor #bg3 spoilers

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 9 thoughts:

Not enough of my daughter. Where is my baby girl? Though I do enjoy getting different PoVs. It'll work for a little bit.

Weld is neat. Didn't feel great about him at first but he grew on me. His scene with Vista made me love him. He's a good kid. (He should probably have learned Aegis, Gallant, and Browbeat's names before talking to the team the first time though)

On the note of that scene - THEY HAD A THERAPIST THIS ENTIRE TIME? The Wards had a therapist available to them and no one was having them see said therapist after 3 of their teammates died? Piggot is so bad at this.

Me reading Flechette's chapter with the aim of making her gay as I have done with everyone else: "Oh wow this is a really easy one!"

I wanted to see more of Parian sooo badly after I first saw her and I'm so fucking glad this is how I see her! Flechette and Parian are wonderful and I hope they get gay married and retire together.

Me saying that probably highly increases the chance that one of them dies in the future.

I'm very glad Flechette gave up on Shadow Stalker. I like Flechette and she shouldn't have to deal with that asshole.

I feel so bad for Clockblocker. He's just a kid and his dad is dying and that sucks. I wanna bake him some cookies or something.

The professor of that class was so clearly identifiable as "one of those professors". All "up until now you haven't had to think, but in Parahumans 103 you'll need to think and I'm not gonna baby you yada yada". It's still just a 100 level course dude, geeze. Get off your high horse.

Clockblocker and Vista are siblings and I love their dynamic.

Despite me feeling for these kids some, the second the Travelers started clowning on them I was enjoying the shit out of myself.

Fucking Trickster is just so much damn fun. His powers are cool and he really lives up to his name. I love him.

Glory Girl getting rocketed off into the sky by Ballistic had me in tears from laughter.

Kid Win has ADHD. I was sure Kid Win had ADHD before I even started on the Kid Win chapter where he says he has ADHD. Someone get this kid some Adderall. And some therapy for all that self doubt and imposter syndrome.

Kid Win also didn't even hesitate to illegally spy on Chariots personal computer by hacking into the wi-fi, so that doesn't give me great confidence in the Wards following rules. Or any heroes. I'm sure that won't ever come up again though.

These Slaughter House Nine guys I'm sure won't be a big deal. They won't do horrible things to hundreds of people. Gonna be taken care of by heroes off screen during the next arc. No worries at all!

Vista joined the team when she was 10? The superhero team that has to deal with death on a semi-regular basis and terrifying violence all the time. That team. She joined it when she was TEN?! Shitty system you guys have here!

Saved the best for last - SHADOW STALKER GETTING FUCKING MEMED ON BY MY WONDERFUL DAUGHTER! (And my daughters friends)

God I wasn't sure about her chapter at first. She is so mean and I didn't necessarily want to spend a long time in her head watching her be mean. But then my daughter showed up in a swarm of bugs and fucked up a bunch of Nazis and I knew everything was going to be ok.

The instant Shadow Stalker started to follow Skitter I knew she was gonna get fucking wrecked. I don't know why I knew, maybe I just know my daughter well enough. But no matter the reason I was so happy to watch it happen. Wasn't worried for Skitter at any moment cause I knew she was gonna bitch slap this asshole.

Just. Damn I fucking LOVE watching my daughter just be a goddess of bugs and go to town.

I could keep going about Shadow Stalker getting absolutely destroyed for who knows how long, so I'll just have to stop myself.

And we see a new person with the Undersiders, did Aisha get her powers? I'm so happy for her! I can't wait to see what they are.

Imp is a great name and it's kinda fucking bonkers it wasn't taken by somebody else already.

Did I mention Shadow Stalker getting clowned?

Cause she did.

Just completely baited and then my wonderful baby girl even got to tase her. I'm so happy for her. Sometimes a little violence is the answer.

#Worm #Worm Web Serial #Parahumans #Cairavende reads Worm #The Wards #Vista is baby #Flechette and Parian are always going to live a happy gay life in my head no matter what actually happens #Parian is too pure for this world #Shadow Stalker getting taken to FUCKING CLOWN TOWN #I love my wonderful bug daughter so much #Seriously though how bad can a group of villains call The Slaughterhouse Nine actually be?

[stellisketches]

why? please explain the soldier, port, king in excruciating detail PLEASE

EDIT: ITS FINALLY DONE i'm so sorry this took me like six months I got really busy with school work and I wanted to make sure I wasn't half-assing this anyway thank you for asking please enjoy

For reference I will be quoting the “Poet Soldier King” test on uQuiz as I feel they summarize each role most succinctly.

"You wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. Remember: love is passion too. You made your own rules and will follow them to death. You try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". You are tired of fighting. You try to forget that, too, and keep going. You dream of quiet. Your love is where you heal." -Soldier

It's a subtle element but Vylad’s entire character/existence is about enduring conflict. It's an easy thing to forget due to his calm demeanor, but Vylad has been fighting since the moment he was born (hell, even before). Fighting the ill-contrived gossip of being a bastard son, fighting to prove himself a genuine Ro’Meave, and fighting against Garte and Zane’s abuse over his childhood. It’s a subtler form of conflict, but it’s very interesting to imagine how he was able to put up with all of it (I’ve planned so many prequel fics about the Ro’Meaves you guys). Then there’s the whole shadowknight topic that really is indicative of itself. Vylad's whole arc was based upon leaving behind the violence of his past as a literal soldier within the Shadow Lord's army. Again it’s really easy to forget but this is someone who was revived to burn the world to the ground and slaughter any and every man, woman, and child that got in the way of it. He told Aphmau himself in season 2: “One good deed does not fix a thousand wrongs done. I'm not a good person, let's just leave it at that. Please.” We may not have seen it on screen, but who knows how long Vylad was traveling with Sasha and Gene. I doubt Phoenix Drop was the first village they targeted, and I doubt Gene or Sasha or even Zenix were ever like “oh yeah you can wait outside while we commit atrocities on this Lord and his family and burn the whole village to the ground.” Vylad has a very practical mindset (another trait indicative of a good soldier), and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was purposefully good at his job so it would land him more opportunities to get out of the nether now and again. He enacted violence well enough that he was trusted to be sent outside the nether to go fuck up the overworld. Vylad is a man thoroughly haunted by war and the violence he’s committed against others in a way his brothers just… aren't. Sure, Garroth knows fighting and violence as a means of protection and ensuring the safety of others, but he doesn’t know war. He’s never had someone he cared about die in his arms. He’s never seen a whole village burn to the ground and see innocent people slaughtered left and right. He’s never seen a child screaming at their dead mother to get up. He may use violence, but he was never a violent person. Zane, on the other hand, most definitely was, however, but he hardly ever enacted any of the violence himself. 90% of the time it was jurors or guards he’d given orders to. And while he was more than happy to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he never felt genuine consequence from it. 

Continuing on Vylad’s inner psyche, we see after he still keeps a very practical, soldier-like mindset out of the nether in company with Aph and Co: He gets annoyed at Aphmau when she puts off telling everyone about the Tuu’la invasion. He surveys Laurance from a distance and does not interfere even in danger because he’s aware of the long term effect of distrust it would cause him. Upon the chaos in Narhaka, he immediately goes to burn books that have important locations the enemy could use against them. This is actually one of my favorite scenes because of how subtly status-quo breaking it is. Tell me right now of any scene involving book burnings done by a guy the audience is supposed to root for. Vylad’s view of the world makes him incredibly pragmatic and able to calculate the win-loss ratio of his actions and let that decide whether or not he will go through with it.

Vylad may not have the typical surface-level look of the characters often put into the category, but if you really dive into his past, his mindset, and the way he views the world, he easily fits into the role of soldier; with the final line “Your love is where you heal” setting him on the path of redemption we see throughout the whole series.

"Loneliness. Strength. Joy. You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are. You sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out of it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create. You are tired of stumbling through life. You dream of a ground you can stand on. One day, you will dance. Your love is where you feel - without fear." -Poet

Now I admit for Zane it does require a more particular perspective to place him as poet, but I’ll start simple and slowly transition to red string and corkboard. Firstly, from the original song lyrics, “He will slay you with his tongue” applies in at least two different ways. The first being obvious: Zane is incredibly charismatic- you don’t just make it to High Priest without a certain degree of people skills included but not limited to negotiating, preaching, and being able to reason your way through any theological question a questioning sinner could ask you. It’s a shame we don’t see it put into use very often throughout the series, but I think his position gives enough testament to his people skills. The second way this line applied is a bit more literal and a bit more dark, which would be the sheer amount of people who were murdered not by his hands directly, but on mere orders. He can quite literally have people slain in just a few words to the right people. Moving to the more esoteric; the line “You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough.” seems like it be a hitch to his characterization, as it first invokes the idea of someone who lacks self-confidence, which is FAR from what we see Zane characterized as in the story. However I see this from the lense of artists becoming blind to the depth of their own skill. Zane is powerful, but it’s not enough for him. He’s become so accustomed to the level of influence he holds he’s become desensitized to it, like how you stop feeling the cold of the water once you stay in it long enough.The power he’s been swimming in his entire life no longer brings that vitalic shudder of control he craves. Thus he seeks power that goes beyond mortal influence to raw, unchanneled divinity, as that’s the only thing that he has ever been told is above him. He hungers the same as any artist— to be something greater than they already are.

“You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create.” The idea of creation draws back to Zane’s relationship with control and divinity. I think it's highly debatable as to whether or not Zane has actual “faith” in the divine (i.e, seeing them as gods he wishes to emulate or simply as extremely powerful beings minus the religious element), but in either case it again leads back to desire for more. (sidenote: Zane’s fatal flaw being lust is such a delicious piece of irony and I could make an essay of its own on it). Anyway, back to the point I was originally trying to make: Zane sows pain and destruction as a means of asserting his power/importance both to others and himself. The “pain” spoken of would normally belong to the poet themself— but this is no ordinary poet, and there is no specific indication where said pain emerges from. 

"Duty. Strength. Resignation. You were told to do things and you did them. The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture ? You don't know. You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs. Your love is where you breathe." -King

God where do I start. “Duty. Strength. Resignation” It’s like someone just said ‘describe Garroth in three words’. Duty has been his entire life, wanted or not, which leads directly into resignation. “You were told to do things and you did them.The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will.” He learned his history. He learned the politics. He followed the dogma. He believed in Irene and his father and the glory of O’Khasis and his divine duty to lord over its people. His people. He said it himself in episode 68 he wanted to be exactly like his father, and that he thought to be lord was an honor and a privilege. To him, the weight of the world has rested upon his shoulders for so long that he becomes accustomed to each additional hardship quickly and quietly, never kicking up a fuss about his growing stress and dissatisfaction, like a frog in a pool of water that is steadily increasing in temperature. He locks his festering disdain for glorification of leadership away from his father, his family, and the rest of the world because he cannot show that he is anything but the Atlas of duty he was born to be. 

Until, one day, he has enough. He saw what happens to his dear little brother, likely the only person he felt he could truly bond with, and despite everything he still dealt with it, for the sake of the people around him, but when his father commands him to marry a girl he has never met (likely while he is still processing his grief) in the name of ‘duty’, it is the straw that breaks the camel's back. He sees that everything he has worked towards is meaningless as he will never reach a point where his father will be satisfied with him. That his father will continue to take and take from him until there is nothing left but a soulless puppet that will continue to speak his words even after his reign has ended. Every burden he has carried, every grievance he has hidden, every struggle he’s overcome and the hard work he’s put into building himself a true heir of O’Khasis— it all amounts to nothing.

So he leaves. 

Now, let me ask you: what would you do if you were a runaway prince escaping the crushing weight of expectation? Take a bunch of money from your no-good dad? Buy a boat ticket and live a new life in luxury on the other side of the world? Never work a day again and dive head first into careless relaxation? Surely, you wouldn’t look twice at a dilapidated little village on the coast. Wouldn’t bother to stop by and lift a finger to help it. You're free, you have a whole life of sweet exemption to look forward to. You wouldn’t give it the time of day.

“You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture?”

Garroth finds himself in Phoenix Drop— a rickety dead-end little town as far away from home as possible. He stays, and he helps. He keeps the village running, he helps the Lord wherever he can. He takes in the broken, starved boy he finds in the woods. He does whatever he can to improve the lives of the people around him. Why? He owes them nothing, he’s spent a lifetime crushed under the weight of people's expectations and he turns around just to find himself carrying the weight of more lives on his shoulders. He is doing everything he was taught and everything he ran away from. 

But this time it’s different. This time, he sees how he’s helping. There’s no more grating voice telling him none of the effort matters. He has a rigid back and steady hands, metaphorically and physically. For the first time in his life, he can see with his own two eyes that his effort is worth it. There isn’t doubt and lies and corruption floating in and out of his mind. Just the warm, honest smiles of the people he helps. He feels it and it is real. The question “Is it nature or nurture?” is genuine: Is Garroth helping these people out of the kindness of his heart or because it was what he was always told to do, and now that he is without the purpose he was assigned he’s leaning on something familiar? Personally, I think that’s for the audience to decide. I myself would say a mixture of both, leaning more so towards nature. But I digress. 

It’s better then, when he helps and can see that he is doing good, but of course, that peace is not to last him. With the Lord’s death and impending turmoil of Phoenix Drop, Garroth’s role in the village shifts drastically to closer resembling the role he ran away from. People are treating him with near as much kindness anymore, no. The most forgiving are losing faith and the least are blaming him. Blaming him for failing to meet their expectations. Now, as things are deteriorating, he has more than enough reason to leave. He gave it the good ol’ college try, and he failed. With the sentiments of the village becoming scarily familiar to that of his father, he should just say “fuck it” and head on off to that faraway land where no one will know his name.

But still, he doesn’t. We see him in Rebirth and how desperate he is to fix the village, to make it work. Even when everyone else is telling him to give up, he refuses. Even sinking, a captain stays on his ship. (Side note: it’s scenes like this that cause me to start tearing up people’s lawns whenever I see takes that label Garroth as having a “fear of responsibility”). And he is completely ready to either make things work or die trying, regardless of what stands in his way. 

‘You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.’

Aphmau wasn’t the first person he saved. Zenix had likely been around for at least a year beforehand. However Zenix was a hothead teenager in need of guidance, which simply made him become another responsibility Garroth set upon himself. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely cares for him, but their relationship is far different than the one he has with Aphmau. 

With Aphmau, he finally has someone who shares the burden. Not only that, but sharing it willingly and with a smile on her face. He’s not used to having a person who presents themselves as an equal sharer of responsibility. Much less, someone who is willing and wanting for him to put his burdens on her (At least, that’s how he sees it). He can’t remember the last time he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone. All the desires he’s pushed down start to bubble back up again, and he starts to imagine things he’d long tried to do away with. He sees Aphmau as a strong leader, one whose idealism is a strength and not a weakness, and how she accomplishes things he never quite got around to doing. An admiration grows for her, yes, but that’s not what makes her different. The difference, he sees, is her vulnerability. How she allows herself to be vulnerable around him. How despite the brave face she puts on, she has just as much fear that she isn’t enough. And she tells him this, directly, because she trusts him. And all of a sudden he realizes that if she can be strong to the rest of the world, and yet still let him see her weakness, her softness, then maybe, just maybe

“Your love is where you breathe.”

He can take his armor off, too.

#zane ro'meave #garroth ro'meave #vylad ro'meave #minecraft diaries #aphmau garroth #mcd #mcd garroth #aphmau mcd #aphmau #mcd zane #mcd vylad #stelli rants #also just as a sidenote that you don't have to take seriously #i tried taking the quiz as I think each character would and got the same results #mcd aphmau #mcd rewrite #minecraft diaries headcanons #garroth #garroth romeave #vylad romeave #vylad mcd #zane romeave #soldier poet king

[the-eeveekins]

Prospera did Nothing Wrong

Inspired by GundamInfo's tweet yesterday (see below), I'm here to tell you why Prospera did nothing wrong.

First off: Prospera only kills a total of THREE people on-screen in the entire show. These were the Dawn of Fold operatives inside Plant Quetta who were moments from discovering and killing Suletta. It was a clear cut case of both self-defense and defending the life of a family member. Hell, if Prospera doesn't (correctly) convince Suletta here that sometimes you have to kill to protect the ones you love, Miorine might have been killed if Suletta hesitated.

The deaths of the Dominicus solider in the Prologue? Eri. The soldiers of the SAL fleets sent to attack Quiet Zero? Also Ericht. In both of these instances, Prospera and Ericht came under attack and acted in self-defense. Additionally, the Dominicus soldiers were literally slaughtering innocent civilians and the SAL is just another facist Spacian organization interested in opressing Earth and were willing to kill MILLIONS of their own people to get it. Prospera and Ericht should be applauded for thining their number.

Quinharbor, this is the big one. Prospera forced an Earthian tank to take a harmless shot in her direction, which she used as justification for destroying the Lfrith stash, but we do not see her engage in the actual fighting itself.

It was the Benerit Group Security forces who instigated the massacre. Despite the Earthian protesters posing basically zero threat to their mobile suits, the pilots freaked out and started firing on protesters and razing the city to the ground despite the massive power imbalance. We never see Prospera attack a single Earthian, and it would have been easy for the Benerit Group security forces to simply fall back, extract Miorine and bail.

Prospera's greatest crime in the show is not being a great mother to Suletta, and prioritizing Eri over her. Something she apologizes for in the final episode and appears to be making amends for in the epilogue.

(Okay, real talk though: I know Elnora does some shitty things as Prospera, and even if she doesn't directly dirty her hands in the series, she's definitely the one manipulating events to happen. That said, you CANNOT show me the Prologue, where Prospera's family, friends and colleagues were violently taken from her and her peaceful life was destroy, and ask me to root against her or hate her. In my opinion, Elnora deserved a happy ending after everything she was put through, and I'm glad she got everything she wanted and is enjoying a peaceful life in the epilogue.)

#lady prospera #prospera mercury #elnora samaya #g witch #the witch from mercury #gundam #g witch spoilers

[yennefxr]

Why Vilgefortz threw himself off a cliff (ft. Girlboss Yennefer)

TWN based spoiler heavy Vilgefortz ramble about subterfuge, Aretuza's destruction and his ultimate frenemy Yennefer. 

If you ask yourself ‘Why did Vilgefortz do that?’ or ‘How could Yennefer do this?’ This one’s for you. 

Vilgefortz throwing himself off a cliff in season one to the pearl-clutching horror of Witcher fans was actually kind of genius. The greatest sorcerer on the Continent loses a sword fight to Cahir of all people and as a result Vilgefortz is written off as a thoughtless, useless and ineffectual villain. 

It’s too far of a stretch to consider the central antagonist of the saga may have an ulterior motive and that the fight’s victor was total misdirection.

Cahir was always going to walk away unscathed for two reasons:

Cahir doesn’t know it yet but they’re coworkers and it’ll reflect badly on Vilgefortz if he fillets him. 

Cahir is the only person that knows the true identity of Ciri and this is invaluable information to both Emhyr and Vilgefortz for their respective elder blood schemes.

The fight was subterfuge and the outcome never mattered, what did matter was that Yennefer was there to witness it. 

Vilgefortz’s behaviour is overtly theatrical during this scene - he dramatically flies in, he’s throwing swords about the place, he’s doing flips, Christ he even has a gimmick involving an endless supply of swords. He could have severed the mind connection with Yennefer at any point but it was imperative she witnessed this performance. Why? 

In S2 Vilgefortz has essentially fucked his way to the top. He’s not exactly subtle and there are clues to his true motives throughout all of his scenes. For example:

  He tells a Nilfgaardian soldier he can’t save him today because he’s Team Aretuza right now (a cute throwback to him bashing that Northern Kingdom soldier’s head in at the end of S1).

He is openly conversing with Emhyr within Aretuza, most likely about elven baby slaughter.

And finally he is so obviously manipulating Tissaia that it’s almost criminal he didn’t look down the camera and wink. But I digress.

Vilgefortz’s theatrics return during Cahir’s fake execution (because yet again Cahir was never at risk). Our attention is firmly on Yennefer and Cahir’s Bonnie-and-Clyde style escape and not on how every northern royal or high ranking member of Aretuza saw Vilgefortz hand that axe to Yennefer before she went full renegade. This may not seem significant but Cahir has now miraculously survived two near-death experiences and both times Yennefer and Vilgefortz have been at the helm. 

For Vilgefortz to put Cahir’s neck on the line he would need to know exactly what Yennefer intended but so far they’ve interacted for maybe five minutes at most. So how much does he know about Yen? 

During his introduction in S1 he knew exactly how to locate her, her romantic past with Istredd and the strength of her bond with Tissaia. Using the latter he expertly manipulates her back to Aretuza and onto the battlefield with a few clever words. 

They strategised together at Sodden to coordinate the counterattack and in the process he let her take the lead, so he knows exactly how she operates in combat situations. 

By the end of season two he knows Yennefer is with Ciri and Geralt since he has been tracking Ciri from the moment she fled Cintra through Rience. He knows all about her family unit and what that means to her to have that connection. 

Vilgefortz has clearly been studying Yennefer since before he appeared on screen, but if that isn’t a convincing enough argument, he’s also a mind reader. He’s so adept at it in the books that he’s frequently shown as bored waiting for characters like Geralt and Ciri to catch their thoughts up with his conversation. 

Whilst not yet confirmed in the show, an audition transcript posted back in May 2022 on RI alludes to Vilgefortz being far worse than just a mindreader: 

Voice 1: I can tell you that whoever did this has grand plans. It’s a mind-control enchantment. Anyone’s head would be a tangled mess.  Voice 2: Mind control? To what end? Voice 1: I don’t know. But it’s damned powerful. It has elements of sorcery, druidic magic and there’s even some ancient elven in this spell. That’s the other thing. The subject must be part elven. Maybe a couple of generations removed, but still. Voice 1: Who would have the power to do something like this? Voice 2: I don’t know anyone with the knowledge to do something like this. It would take lifetimes to acquire these all these skills, but whoever he is, he has a variety of interests.

This scene is now confirmed to take place during episode 3 of Season 3 with one of these voices being Geralt. 

Vilgefortz knows in S3 through his own studies of elder blood that Yennefer will need help tempering the chaos within Ciri and he knows exactly where she will turn. Straight back to Aretuza and her own maternal figure Tissaia with whom he has conveniently allied himself with both politically and romantically.

We've seen in the trailer that Geralt is less than enthused by this but Yennefer is adamant it's the best thing for Ciri.

Vilgefortz will actively defend and encourage Yennefer’s return to Aretuza despite her reputation across the Continent as a traitor, because Ciri will fall right in his lap. And whilst it seems strange for Vilgefortz to defend Yen he’s actually done it before in this deleted scene with Stregobor.

Stregobor: There’s something unnatural in her Vilgefortz: And there’s something unnatural in how entrenched your protege is with Nilfgaard 

Vilgefortz could have commented on any of Stregobor’s antics but he deliberately chose to rebuke Istredd. Stregobor’s student and one time spy. It’s reminiscent of teachers arguing about their student’s behaviour. It’s small but Vilgefortz has planted that seed of connection between him and Yennefer and he has been doing so continuously. 

Stregobor is truly the boy who cried wolf after the Renfri debacle and as such the audience (and Aretuza) is totally unsympathetic to his protestations of a traitor being amongst them. He’s so adamant in his prejudice towards Yen that he blindly appeals to the real traitor, again emphasising how the lines between Yennefer and Vilgefortz are starting to blur. 

Stregobor is the first to identify the connection but TWN has not been shy in making parallels between Yennefer and Vilgefortz:

In S1:

Yennefer is strapped into a chair and forcibly sterilised. This never happens in the books and it is voyuersticly grisly in the show. Vilgefortz straps women into chairs and forcibly removes their wombs as part of his elder blood experiments in the books.

Yennefer stands at the top of Sodden Hill and scorches the Earth below. In the books Vilgefortz’s last stand at Stygga invokes a similar image. 

In S2:

Yennefer is the hero of Sodden. In the books, Vilgefortz is the hero of Sodden. Though in the show they can't seem to make up their minds.

And the piece de resistance is that Yennefer hunts Ciri across the Continent to sacrifice her for magical powers. In the books, (you already know where this is going)it’s Vilgefortz. 

Yennefer and Vilgefortz themselves even acknowledge their shared calculating natures during a terse discussion of the political fallout after Sodden.  

Possibly their most contentious connection is Tissaia.

Vilgefortz was justifiably criticised for being romantically involved with Tissaia but there’s zero consideration as to his motive entering that relationship. Putting aside Tissaia and Vilgefortz’s shared political aspirations and their similar ideology on what to do with girls who no longer serve their purpose (eelgate), we’re left with Yennefer. 

We know Vilgefortz has been manipulating both women and that he’s been watching them closely. He repeats Tissaia’s own words to Yennefer back to her like a mantra:

But to what end? Vilgefortz has nothing but contempt towards Tissaia and Yennefer’s relationship, and later Yennefer and Ciri’s bond. This is all a projection of his horrific mommy issues (more on that later) but here's an example of his feelings towards motherhood taken from Lady of the Lake: 

“I would have given you a reason for your crippled excuse of a maternal instinct. Although you’re dry and sterile as a stone, you’d not only have a daughter, but a granddaughter too. Or at least an excuse for a granddaughter."

Aretuza is the perfect hunting ground for Vilgefortz to find victims for his elder blood experiments. Students that don’t ascend are callously discarded, and coupled with the fact the girls have only been sent there as they have zero place in society and their families want them gone, they now fit the profile of ‘perfect victim’. Nobody’s that won’t be missed. If S3 follows the books then when Vilgefortz and Tissaia take control over Aretuza Tissaia will be promoted to Arch-Mistress meaning her protection of the girls slips as her her attention shifts elsewhere. Now Vilgefortz can play.

However there was a moment in S1 that makes me think he’s been set up an opposing force to Tissaia’s maternal nature since the beginning:

Vilgefortz has been snatching these girls from just beyond Tissaia’s reach. He is making a mockery of her role as rectoress and the motherly role she has adopted towards her girls. This has now been confirmed as true via RI.

What becomes of Vilgefortz’ victims is something Geralt will discover in S3 when he goes on the hunt for Rience’s master and discovers a grotesque monster consisting of girl body parts fused together by fire. Fun. 

Tissaia and Vilgefortz’s relationship was never simple - consider these motives and exactly why he is so intimately placed within Tissaia and Yen’s relationship. Vilgefortz has dug his claws deeps and intends to weaponise Tissaia’s demise against Yennefer to break her.

Now onto the coup, in a bid for redemption a politically motivated Yennefer will be directly responsible for organising the conclave of mages in S3. Whether she is directed to do so by Tissaia or Vilgefortz or through her own volition remains to be seen. We know there are ulterior motives regardless of who hosts.

 What’s particularly striking about this is that as Thanedd burns it completes Yennefer’s self fulfilling prophecy, as warned about over the seasons by Stregobor.

Stregobor is adamant Yennefer will lead Thanedd to ruin and compares her alleged actions to that of Falka during her rebellion in S2. Anything to reclaim power. He insists history will repeat itself and likely foreshadows his own death at Thanedd:

The question is will Stregobor uncover the true identity of Aretuza’s traitor or will he die clinging to the belief that Yennefer will betray them all?

Moving onto the aftermath of the Thanedd coup the tiny blink and you miss it interactions between Vilgefortz and Yen take form - the fight that never was, the power exchange in front of Kings, her return to Aretuza, and all the jarring similarities between them. Yen was never working with Nilfgaard, she was working with him. At least this is what Vilgefortz wants the Continent to believe and he’s been planting that seed since S1. Stregobor noticed it. The Northern Kings saw it. Geralt will see it. 

Now Yennefer is all alone and her relationships have been systematically destroyed. 

Aretuza is gone and Tissaia is dead. Geralt has only just forgiven Yen for trying to sacrifice Ciri in S2, what will his natural conclusion be when Yennefer takes them to Aretuza and lands them in front of Vilgefortz? The Lodge knows Yennefer is innocent but that doesn’t fit their narrative so her friends run with her being a traitor and are happy to let her die as one.

Yennefer is now on the run and the only path she has is directly back to Vilgefortz.

TWN may not delve as far into her isolation as the books did; there are hints that Geralt and Yennefer will face Vilgefortz together and honestly I would prefer that. Geralt’s acceptance that Yennefer betrayed him in the books never sat well with me so I would welcome that change in the show. 

So why has Vilgefortz done this to Yen? We begin to understand when Vilgefortz tries to recruit Geralt during Time of Contempt; he beguiles him with philosophy, immortality and concerning ideologies regarding women but Geralt simply doesn’t bite, until Vilgefortz hits too close to home.

"And there at the end of the world, I met a woman. A sorceress". "Be careful", whispered the Witcher, and his eyes narrowed. "Be careful that the similarities you are so desperately searching for don’t lead you too far".

Geralt rejects all of Vilgefortz’s attempts to find common ground with him and alluding to Yennefer is a step too far. Vilgefortz denies this connection and goes onto discuss how his preternatural rage stems from his mother’s rejection, the callousness of the Brotherhood and then back to the sorceress once more. 

“I left her. Because she was promiscuous, arrogant, spiteful, unfeeling and cold. Because it was impossible to dominate her, and her domination of me was humiliating…I left her, because she was like my mother. I suddenly understood what I felt for her was not love at all…a perverse need for suffering and atonement. What I felt for that woman was hate.”

Vilgefortz’s reason for becoming a mage was hatred - he has nothing but contempt for women and the magical Chapter. Yennefer is the embodiment of that hatred, from her own cold and spiteful demeanour and later her selfless maternal quest to save Ciri, she is the perfect target for his rage. He wants her to suffer and be humiliated as he was. 

Neither Vilgefortz or Yennefer were ever going to be satisfied sitting courtside at the beck and call of a King, in that respect and in many other ways they are similar. But their major difference is where that quest for power leads them and for Yennefer in TWN that leads her to attempting to sacrifice Ciri to regain what she lost. 

Yennefer gains far more when she meets Ciri - she finds connection, she finds a daughter, she finds everything she has been searching for. Her desire for power pales in significance to the point she would sacrifice her own life to save Ciri’s. She becomes utterly selfless and in doing so distinguishes herself from the Lodge and the antagonist she has been paralleled against from the second he appeared on screen. This is the Yennefer that will be tortured by Vilgefortz for months, but she accepts this as long as she can keep Ciri safe.

 I don’t necessarily agree with Yen’s actions in S2 but they’re not unfounded. The issue is the fandom at large has been drawn to caricatures of these characters that are the very antithesis of who they are. For a fandom that loudly professes their commitment to complicated women Yennefer was relegated to a love interest in S2 remarkably quickly. Fuck her complexity, she’s holding hands with a man now, therefore who cares what she did to Ciri. Let her be a little evil.

 It’s just such a dull reductionist take on Yen. 

Vilgefortz falls victim to this too - there’s zero exploration or even expectation of a motive which is tragic as the antagonist of the saga. It’s unusual how little traction Mahesh Jadu gets as a villain considering tumblr’s obsession with them but I imagine once Vilgefortz interacts with Geralt perception will change as it did with Yennefer after interacting with Jaskier, Istredd after meeting Geralt and I can only imagine the reception Phillipa will receive after interacting with Jaskier too. Is it an unfortunate pattern or is it just a coincidence that these characters only get traction after being blessed with meeting the golden white men of the franchise? I digress.

Vilgefortz and Yennefer are complicated characters who make zero attempt to coddle the audience but what they do do is contextualise each other. They are what the other hates most, and yet they’re mirror images. They deserve more than being reduced to lazy tropes and love interests and hopefully in S3 more people give both Anya and Mahesh the opportunity to show the depth and intrigue their characters can bring to the Witcher. 

#twn spoilers #witcher #vilgefortz #yennefer #tissaia