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kpopnstarwars · 2 months

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Upon the Sands of the Arena: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: basically reader fights feyd in the arena, my apologies if there are any inaccuracies, i'm dUmB

tw: 18+, smut YAAA, fighting, swearing, i use fire metaphors too much, blood, violence and death (it's in a a gladiatorial arena ffs), creampie, one ass spank, fingering + oral (f receiveing) hella lot of sexual tension, Fighting as Foreplay, feyd sorta has a blood kink but he's just freaky like that, sort of fluffy at the end, hint of voyeurism if you squint really hard, lmk if there's anything else

wc: 4.1k

part 2

The Bene Gesserit are distracted.

If the Kwisatz Haderach was not so near, they would have disposed of you properly. Instead, they sucked you back into their dark web of deceit and occulted plans only to spit you out just as fast, leaving your fate to the blood soaked sands of Giedi Prime’s arenas. You believe that if it were not for the actions of Lady Jessica Atreides and her defiance of the order, they’d pay you more attention.

Not that you’re complaining.

You were trained to flourish in the dark, lurking in the shadows of the deepest of nights, awaiting a time to strike. However, you are not like your mentors, you do not believe in the hoping, the weaving of bloodlines for the production of a distant messiah, nor do you dirty your hands to obey an imperious Reverend Mother.

Truly, you admire Lady Jessica for doing the same as you did - defying the order and thereby splintering from it; all the same, you do not desire what she wants. For she wants power for her son and her unborn daughter, and you want nothing but to be left alone.

In a universe full of yearning for a greater purpose, you want the opposite. Often, you find yourself wishing you were something of nature: not mundane, by any means, but uncontrollable, like the desert winds that sift through the sands of Arrakis simply because. To be like them, without a master, without the endless search for purpose, is freedom.

Instead, you have been branded with the title Bene Gesserit - ex Bene Gesserit now - and you wield too much power for the order to ignore you, even alone. Hence why they incorporated your capture into their plans, engineering it so that you face the Baron’s brutal, bloodthirsty nephew in the arena.

They’re going to have to try harder than that to kill you.

You think they forget that you once were as good as the rest of them. They forget that you still possess the ability to alter the molecules in your blood to resist the drugs they pump into the arena prisoners, and they forget that you trained beside the best in combat.

The arena is where you thrive.

The roar of the crowd is deafening. It excites you, the swell of noise that is thousands of harsh Harkonnen tongues heckling for blood; the stamp of their feet as they cry their na-Baron’s name vibrates through the arena, through the grains of sand beneath your feet, deep and heady like burgundy wine.

Your fingers tighten around the blade given to you, barely sharpened and made of unsanded wood, but solid all the same. It’s all you’ll need against the na-Baron. He is but a cruel man set on fire with exterminable blue flames, and you are Bene Gesserit: defiant of the order or not, it is who and what you are, and it is pure power coursing through your veins - power that answers to you and you only.

The roar of the na-Baron soars over the crowd’s cheering, animalistic and full of fury that makes you wonder what incenses him so much. Something in his past, maybe, something that he only acknowledges in the inner machinations of his cunning mind.

The grate in front of you opens, and you allow yourself a smile as you step out into Giedi Prime’s tortorous ebony sun. High above, you spot the slit of a balcony where the Baron himself reclines, watching his nephew with a benevolent smile and a pipe in his hand, flanked by subservient concubines with bowed heads. All around, the crowd shouts, thunderous, urging their na-Baron to spill blood on the sand, to paint the arena red. It swirls around you like a washed out dream, black and white but simultaneously vivid, the stink of rotting bodies and sun bleached white sand pungent in your nostrils, the occasional pop from the fireworks overhead heavy in your ears.

Rolling your shoulders, you pace a few steps in before sitting down in the sand, cross legged, the backs of your hands against your knees with your blade flat against one of your palms. Pitiless, you watch as the na-Baron slices the throat of the first prisoner that staggers his way, throwing him an enigmatic smile when he glances towards you.

His eyes are cold; calculating. They’re dark, striking against his pale skin as they suck in the light, and hungry too, as if he strives for something he does not quite know, always reaching, always burning for more.

Intriguing.

He circles in on the next prisoner, who meets his end by the same savage knife work as the first, his guts spilled out onto the greedy sand. Insatiable, chest heaving with excitement more than fatigue, the na-Baron turns to you, his final prey - his black teeth are bared in a magnificent, maniacal grin, his footsteps silent as he approaches.

Facing him now, you understand why the Bene Gesserit believed that by crossing the Atreides’ meant-to-be daughter with the Harkonnen’s na-Baron, they would make the Kwisatz Haderach. There’s no doubt in this man’s genetics, in the solid lines of his strength sheathed bones and the sheer virility and ferocity that permeates the air around him - it’s almost elegant, the way he prowls towards you, his stride lilting and laced with power. They picked him well.

Too bad you’ll have to kill him.

If he proves to be obtuse, you’ll have no choice but to slay him in order to save yourself. If he is, however, as cunning as they say, you’ll give him a chance to live - it’d be a shame to end him, actually: something draws you to the rawness of his nature, to the frigidity of the ire in his eyes.

The na-Baron circles closer, his skin like moonlight. He watches you like a hawk, as if he’s the one who’s hunting, ready for his next meal; his eyes flash in the sun, studying you, watching for your tells even as you identify his. Smiling, you drop into a crouch, knife outstretched like a twisted mockery of a peace offering, waiting for him to take the bait and strike.

He cocks his head. ‘It’s rare that I face a woman in the arena.’

‘I’m sure it will still be of pleasure to you, Feyd-Rautha.’

‘I believe it will increase it tenfold, little witch.’

You don’t have time to figure out how he knows you’re Bene Gesserit, because he slashes at you, once down towards your ribs and once back up at your throat. His knife flashes in the sun, reflecting the bloodlust in his eyes as it arcs towards you; light on your feet, you parry both of his blows, dipping in to land your own. He’s strong, which is of less concern to you than his speed. Feyd-Rautha fights as if he’s dancing: not in the aspect that there’s flourish in his bladework - quite the opposite, he keeps his strikes efficient and tight - but in the smooth, hypnotic way that the movements of his body blend seamlessly together.

The crowd screams as he forces you into defence. It’s temporary, though, because he gets reckless, both driven and blinded by his hunger for blood - enough so that you can dart your foot out, hooking it around his ankles and overbalancing him. Sprays of sand are kicked up as he tries to steady himself, and you force him down with the tip of your blade to his pale throat.

A single, sleek drop of scarlet slides down his skin. Unhurriedly, he brings a hand up to catch it before it leaks onto his black armour, lifting it so he can see the blood your knife has shed. His gaze flicks up to you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

‘Huh,’ he remarks, pleasantly surprised.

And then he lashes out, bringing you down into the sand beside him. With the hilt of his knife, he knocks your own out of your hand, and it’s catapulted into the air, spinning end over end and catching the light before it somersaults into the ground a few feet away. The grit plumes up at your face as you scuffle with him, and you hiss, frustrated that the sand does not lend you any more traction.

Rolling you over so fast your head spins, Feyd-Rautha drives his knife down towards your exposed neck. It makes a bolt of panic shoot through you, followed by the deep seated, survival impelled instinct to use the Voice on him, but like hell you’re doing that; honour prevents you, as well as the desire to finish this fight properly. You have no choice but to grab his forearm, slowing his blade’s descent, and a mirthful, rasping noise leaves his chest - a laugh that sets his eyes alight.

And then, the pressure dissolves, falling away. He stands, smirking down at you, the sun like a damning halo around his head. Silence falls over the arena, the anticipation thick in the air as he raises his hand, gesturing somewhere over your shoulder.

‘Go on, little witch, get your knife.’

You sneer, seeing the greed in his eyes, the misguided belief that he’s got you where he wants you. He wants to play, and it delights you.

Taking a few steps in the direction of the knife, you feign acquiescence. You can feel his eyes on your back, can sense the triumph oozing off him, and you let the adrenaline coursing through your veins guide your limbs, twisting you around so you can lunge at him, one hand wrapping around his bare forearm and bending it backwards as you spin him sharply until his back meets your chest. Viciously, you yank his arm further back, and the pain of that combined with your elbow tight around his throat, constricting his airways, is enough to loosen his grip.

A gasp ripples through the crowd as Feyd-Rautha drops his knife. It lodges in the ground beside your foot, and you flick it up with the toe of your boot, your hand darting out to snatch it from the air. The man in your arms bucks and writhes, but you keep your hold on him as you bring the knife to his neck for the second time.

‘Uh oh,’ you sing-song into his ear. ‘What’s happened here?’

He stills in your arms a little. ‘Why don’t you do it?’

‘I fear I’ve grown attached to you during our little fight,’ you hum. ‘It would be a shame to end a specimen like yourself.’

‘You are Bene Gesserit, I’m sure that you have arrangements - ’

‘I may be one, but I do not follow the order,’ you snarl. ‘I spare you because I wish to. Now, Harkonnen, knock the knife from my hand.’

You feel his muscles tense, the hesitation coursing through his body as he determines whether your bid is a trick or not, and then he does as you say, catching it smoothly and spinning to bring it to your throat. Calmly, you stare into his narrowed eyes, the cold caress of the blade harsh against your exposed skin.

‘What’s stopping me from killing you now, little witch?’

You laugh. ‘I trust I’ve piqued your interest sufficiently, na-Baron.’

‘Just Feyd is fine.’

You open your mouth to mock him, but he slices the blade away from your neck, very purposefully nicking you. Blood beads at the seam of the cut, hot and vengeful; he grips the back of your neck, exposing your throat to him, and prickles of pain shoot through you as the wound stretches. Frozen, you wait to see what he’ll do next, heart fluttering in your chest in a way that you know is not fear.

Insouciantly, he licks a long stripe up your skin, his scorching tongue following the trail of crimson his blade left behind. All consuming heat wells up in your stomach when he grins at you, displaying the hint of red coating his obsidian teeth, his eyes igniting the air between you as they dip down to survey your body, your heaving chest.

And then he releases you. You find your knees have gone weak, and you stumble as the guards close around you, grabbing you roughly under the armpits and dragging you out of the arena, your knees making twin tracks in the sand.

Managing a glance behind you, you catch sight of Feyd, his fist held triumphantly in the air as the crowd roars for their na-Baron.

Unsurprisingly, they throw you into a cell. Its walls are made of smooth, dark metal which seem to swallow up any sound that you make - it doesn’t surprise you that Vladimir Harkonnen has a Bene Gesserit proof cell - and the only thing furnishing it is a black blanket on the ground. A servant comes in and treats the shallow cut on your neck, but he refuses to meet your eyes and scurries off as fast as he can, almost forgetting to lock the door behind him.

You estimate two hours, maybe three, before Feyd appears in the doorway. His silhouette appears in the small glass window set in the door and pauses; you wonder if he’s considering leaving you there for a little longer, but then the lock disengages with a whoosh and the door slides open.

The air is immediately charged as he strides down the steps, eyes locked on you. With the smooth hiss of hydraulics, the door closes behind him, and he prowls forward, not quite smiling yet - you sense that he’s here to continue what you didn’t finish in the arena, and your back straightens a little as his gaze rakes over your body. He’s taken off his armour, leaving him in the thin black underclothes beneath, and he too has had someone treat the wound in his neck.

‘Your resistance to the drugs is remarkable, little witch. My blade was laced too.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘I find that matter quite disappointing, actually, that you must face your opponents in the arena when they are half sedated in order to best them.’

He smiles, stepping closer to you until you share air. ‘It’s not just the winning I seek.’

‘Oh, what is it then?’ You ask. ‘Pain?’

Quick as a snake, you strike, letting the thrill of the fight shoot through you yet again as he matches you blow for blow. He looks at you as if he wants to eat you, to taste you - not just your lips or your tongue, but the defiant burn of your lifeblood too, and it makes you want to sink your teeth into him.

Slipping past his guard to catch the front of his shirt, you bunch the material in your hand and tear, baring his well muscled chest to you. The sight of it makes your lips quirk upwards, further so at the sound he makes: a half growl and a half groan as he lunges for you, wonderfully infuriated by the way you dance just out of his grasp, slipping through his fingers like water. His eyes are kindled with ardour - for both your blood and your flesh - and when they meet yours, shivers snap down your spine and tug at your stomach.

Feinting to the left, you jab at his neck. Like a scorpion waiting to strike, he grabs your wrist, tugging you towards him; you glance down at his feet, easily predicting that he’s going to sweep your legs out from under you if you let him bring you any closer. Yanking your hand back, you attempt to shake his grip on you, but he refuses to let go.

You slap him across the face.

Hard.

His fingers loosen on you as his head snaps to the side, the noise your palm makes against his chiselled cheek sharp and ringing in the cell. A soft, animalistic sound leaves the back of his throat, and when he lifts his chin, his jaw clenched to perfection, the pure lust in his eyes makes you stumble back a step.

Rushing at you, he takes advantage of the heady swoop of desire that messes with your head, slowly backing you against the wall with each punch and kick he throws. Heat roils in his gaze, so intense that when he slams you against the wall, you don’t know whether he’s going to kill you or kiss you - the not-knowing thrills you, sets your bones and soul on fire. One of his hands comes up, his fingertips caressing your throat before he pounces, mercilessly cutting off your air supply.

Leaning into your space, he brings his lips up to your ear. ‘If I’d had my way, little witch, I’d have fucked you right there on the sand, with all of them watching.’

Your head spins, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the lack of oxygen in your lungs or the feeling of his strong thigh pressing between your legs, relentless as he grinds it against your clit. You allow yourself a second to enjoy it before you retaliate, adrenaline seething in your blood.

Burying your nails into his arm, you twist it to the side, unbalancing him and taking him to the floor - his fingers grip your shirt, bringing you down with him. You land on his torso, straddling his hips, and as you do, he snaps his wrists down and rips your shirt from top to bottom down your back. The cool air of the cell sends ripples of goosebumps up your skin, and Feyd’s wide, calloused palms follow their path, surprisingly warm, deceptively gentle.

Bucking his lower body, he flips you over, pinning your hands over head, his long fingers circling your wrists as his hips press heavily into yours. Your eyes flick down to his mouth as he dips his head, his breath ghosting against your cheek; the curve of his lips is soft and almost graceful compared to the rough way he grinds against you, eager for more, yet eager to torture himself with the wait.

Tipping your jaw up, you let your lower lip brush his before you turn your head to the side, denying him. Amusingly, he follows your touch, insistent that you kiss him, but you ease out of his grip and trap him between your arms when he gives chase - a growl sounds low in his chest, one of his hands gripping your thigh, futilely yanking at your trousers as you grapple, rolling over and over on the cell’s floor.

His hand slams down beside your head, stopping your course, his forearm flat against your throat - not quite choking you, but not letting your air supply run free. Feyd’s touch sears your skin in the best way, and you wish to be consumed by the flames.

‘Must I tie you up, little witch?’

His voice is low and rasping, sending shivers up your spine. You don’t answer, instead claiming his lips, welcoming the insistent press of his tongue as you thrust your hips against his, seeking that exquisite friction. Running your hands up his strong back, you hook your elbow around the nape of his neck, locking him to you as he explores the taste of you.

Abruptly, he pulls away, and you open your mouth, protest on your lips until he tugs down your trousers and underwear, tossing them somewhere to the side, his own garments following. You get one good look at him, at his powerful, muscle lined thighs framing your hips and the curve of his leaking cock against his stomach before he swipes his fingers between your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

When he lowers his face to your heat, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a breathless moan slips from you, loaded with anticipation. You can’t stop the louder echo that leaves you when he dips his fingers into cunt, curling them to hit your sweet spot, and your nails claw at his shoulder blades, leaving red trails behind them.

‘That’s it, little witch,’ he croons. ‘Sing for me.’

And sing you do, as he wrings the pleasure from you with his tongue and fingers until your legs tremble and close around his head. He pins your thighs to the floor, holding you open for him as he tastes you, insatiable, pushing you unrelentingly over the edge, again and again until hot tears slide down your cheeks and your voice breaks from crying his name.

Finally, he buries his length inside you. Your eyes roll back at the stretch of it, your pussy fluttering around him; you muffle the moan that rips itself from your chest by biting down on his shoulder. He chuckles as you mewl his name, your back arching as he pulls out, only sheathe himself up to the hilt when he thrusts back in - he’s as drunk on your sounds as you are on his cock: he needs more. More of you, of your delicious sounds and your intoxicating scent and that sweet, sweet cunt of yours.

Feyd fucks like he fights: ruthless, full of passion and lust, remorseless.

Just as you’re about to come around his cock, he pulls out, leaving you scrabbling against the floor, hips futile as they follow his, his name like a plea on your lips. He drinks in your desperation, flipping you over and cracking his palm down hard on your ass before slamming himself back into your weeping pussy, the ragged cry that escapes you like the nectar of the gods on his tongue as he swallows it with a kiss. Gathering your hair in his fist, he pulls your head back, pounding tirelessly into you as he pins you to his solid chest, mouthing at the skin behind your ear.

As Feyd spills his warm seed inside you, you wonder if the Bene Gesserit were actually distracted, or if that was what they wanted you to think as they crossed bloodlines, even despite your defiance of their order.

You flop onto the blanket as Feyd eases himself out of your spasming cunt. Your head is fuzzy, warm, and a dumb smile pulls at your lips.

Feyd chuckles. ‘I have not broken you, have I, little witch?’

You send him a look half as fierce as it should be. ‘Barely. You have merely sated me - for now.’

He laughs again, lying next to you on the blankets. His body is angled towards you, but he doesn’t reach out - that he lay down beside you is surprising to you in the first place, but you seize the opportunity and curl up in the curve of his body, enjoying the warmth of his skin. Slowly, his fingers card through your hair, and you close your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the moment of softness from the bloodthirsty na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Reaching out, you grab the blanket and fold it over the two of you - he rolls over so that he lies with his head resting on your chest. His lips brush the skin between your breasts, and you're struck by the glimpse of vulnerability that Feyd allows you to witness; this is not by accident, this is a gift from him, a way of silently telling you that he has come as close to trusting you as he could ever come to trusting someone.

Silent, you bask there in the afterglow, eyes half closed. At some point, you seek Feyd’s lips, and he obliges you, lazily exploring your mouth in a way he did not get a chance to do before, sighing contentedly as you trace the lines your nails carved along the grooves of his broad back. Eventually, you pull away, staring into his eyes where the embers of the fire that had blazed in them still glow with the heat of it. You need to go.

Gently, your breath mingling with his, you kiss his cheek, your lips gliding against his skin before you get up, briefly laughing at the wobbly nature of your legs before gathering your clothes and dressing as best as you can, considering he ripped your shirt all the way down the back.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s propped himself up on his elbows; the blanket has slipped down to reveal most of his moon coloured stomach, and he regards you with mirth mixed with something like respect.

You pause in the doorway. You can tell he’s letting you leave.

A smile plays on his lips.

‘We’ll meet again, little witch.’

It’s not a question, nor a whimsy. It’s a promise.

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divorcedyaoi · 2 years

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I don’t think I can go like two full days without thinking about the last episode of vento aureo

#📝: jojoposting #at that point I hadn’t rly been watching the damn show with any kind of analytical thoughts in my head I didn’t think it deserved it #but there’s a lot of good shit in that damn show. even with all the bad and stupid shit #but that last episode made me so upset and ykw. after like a month of thinking abt it I can say I do like it.#I’m not sure how I feel about the Themes Themselves but man #’the only thing worse than fate is trying to fight it’ is so . it’s so #like when I think about my favorite stuff much of them include varying timelines and being able to know what would be different if #a certain decision is made differently #and with jojo … you can’t and won’t ever know. everything is happening by design #and to fight that design only brings fate upon those defying it even harder #I wonder if mista Knows. if he understands why everything came to pass.#I hope he doesn’t

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tobiasdrake · 1 month

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Fun Fact: Goku fights smarter. Vegeta fights harder.

As a martial artist, Goku's developed and cultivated his skills over the course of his life, mastering a variety of creative techniques and, more importantly, honing his mind. A quick-thinking and analytical counter-fighter, Goku prides himself on a creative and clever dismantling of his adversary's capabilities.

This is where Goku excels as a fighter. He's a formidable martial artist in his own right but when pressured, he falls back on a generally high understanding of violence and a creative mind for opening solutions. He reads his opponent's style and abilities, finds its weaknesses, and exploits them.

This, incidentally, is part of what what made Majin Buu such an insurmountable hurdle for him.

Majin Buu is a taffy monster made of magic who defies even this universe's conventional physics. He has no fighting style; He just does things, and his infinitely regenerative body and supreme liquid flexibility leaves no weaknesses to exploit.

He cannot be fought the way Goku fights.

For his own style, Goku has one particular signature technique and a couple other moves he's picked up from others. His mainstay is the Kamehameha. But he's innovated a wide variety of ways in which the Kamehameha can be used, based on the needs of his situation.

Goku's used the technique in a variety of ways, such as using it for propulsion instead of as an attack.

Bending it around the opponent's defense for a surprise attack.

Making stationary torpedos that he can fire at will to startle and disorient his adversary.

The coolest attack in Dragon Ball history YES I SAID IT. Learning to teleport? Cool. Kamehameha? Cool. Teleporting in while charging the Kamehameha in order to throw it directly under your opponent's guard before he even has an instant to react? Top-tier.

Point is, this is who Goku is as a fighter. Brilliant and innovative, bringing a great deal of cleverness and creativity to his fights. He breaks down his opponent's technique and adapts himself to the needs of the situation at hand.

Vegeta is also highly observant and analytical. Do not mistake me for calling him stupid. He makes plans of his own, and his greatest asset is his ability to follow everything happening on the field at once. It is next to impossible to get the drop on this man.

Vegeta pays attention.

Vegeta is always paying attention. He splits his focus incredibly well and quickly interprets what he's seeing and hearing with a critical eye. He misses nothing.

He is. Always. Paying attention. The one time someone actually managed to get the drop on him - and I cannot stress this enough - it was a person Vegeta did not know existed because he had not been a part of this battle up to this point.

Am I saying that Yajirobe's cowardice saved the world by not revealing his presence to Vegeta until this fateful moment? Yes. Yes, I am saying that. We literally have a counter-example from someone Vegeta did know and account for to contrast it with.

Vegeta is always paying attention. Unless he doesn't know you exist.

So. Yeah. Vegeta is incredibly brilliant and observant. But what he's not is a martial artist. Vegeta, instead, is a soldier. He's comfortable in the realm that overwhelming power creates.

Vegeta hits hard.

He hits very hard.

He hits very, very, VERY hard.

In fact, Vegeta hits harder than Goku does. That's not to say that Vegeta is stronger than Goku; Vegeta and Goku go back and forth on who's stronger in the given moment over the course of the series. But Vegeta's attacks are stronger than Goku's.

To understand what that means, you need to understand that certain kinds of ki attacks have a multiplying effects on their user's strength. Attacks such as the Kamehameha or the Makankosappo, which concentrate ki before firing it, produce a much greater level of ki than their user's standard power output.

When charging a Kamehameha, Goku's battle power reading on the Scouter rises dramatically. This is the secret of techniques like the Kamehameha: they concentrate ki into a point before releasing it all at once, like pulling the pin on a grenade.

As concentration moves go, the Kamehameha isn't actually that great. The versatility and creativity that Goku brings to it is what makes it so formidable. Pound for pound, it kinda sucks. Piccolo's Makankosappo here makes the Kamehameha look like noob shit.

This kind of ability is non-standard among ki attacks, which are typically like throwing long-range punches. In fact, it's super-rare among the Planet Trade to be able to do this. Raditz had never even heard of a move like this.

Vegeta had. He knew of exactly one.

I am so sorry to do this to you but we're going to have to talk about battle power numbers here for a moment. Vegeta's clocked at 18,000 BP as of his battle with Goku on Earth; it's brought up a few times in the Namek arc.

Goku, iconically, is OVER 9000 8000!!!

At the moment Vegeta and Goku's attacks meet, Goku is channeling the Kaio-ken x3 which is exactly what it sounds like. He's inflated the ki inside his body to 300% capacity. The drawback is that his body is now an overinflated balloon ready to pop at any moment from all this swelled and bloated ki inside of him. But the gain is that he's outputting 300% power.

At this point in time, Vegeta has a battle power of 18,000. Goku, formerly >8,000 is now >>>24,000. Goku, further, is using the Super Kamehameha rather than the regular one he used against Raditz, which brings with it a higher level of power multiplication.

Nonetheless, the Galick Gun is winning against the Super Kamehameha. Goku is forced to resort to a x4 Kaio-ken - which does leave his body utterly destroyed and incapable of continuing the fight - in order to have enough power to overcome a superior magnification from a weaker opponent.

We see another direct comparison between the two in the Cell arc. That killer Warp Kamehameha fired point-blank into Cell when he least suspects it, which hits him dead-on and unloads its absolute maximum power into him? It does this.

Brutal. If Cell didn't have both Frieza's ability to survive ludicrous levels of harm and Piccolo's regeneration, it would have been over right here. Meanwhile, a glancing blow from Vegeta's Final Flash left him looking like this.

Despite Vegeta being far less powerful than Goku was when he fired that move, the effect is about the same - With implication that if Vegeta hadn't pulled the Final Flash back at the last second to avoid destroying the Earth, he would have erased Cell completely.

Goku's shot hit Cell point-blank and full-on to do about as much damage, albeit with deadlier aim in terms of killing a humanoid being.

This is the distinction between Goku and Vegeta as fighters. Vegeta is very smart, and Goku is very strong. Neither of them is lacking in intelligence or power. But they are philosophically very different fighters.

Pound for pound, Vegeta's moves hit harder than Goku's. He is the unparalleled master in taking the power he has and channeling it into as much destructive force as humanly possible.

On the flipside of that coin, when backed into a corner, Vegeta falls back on outputting as much direct force as he can. Goku gets to thinking his way around the problem at hand and devising a creative answer.

Goku is a surgical scalpel. Vegeta is a warhammer.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #son goku #vegeta

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wonryllis · 6 months

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ENHYPEN AS SONG KANG.

────𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅.

𓋜 hyung line as hot characters ㅤ. .ㅤ𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑡ㅤㅤ𓍼ㅤㅤ𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 & fluff suggestive+ ࣪ ㅤ˖ ㅤ𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑ㅤㅤ৲ lowercase intended ㅤ. ⠀𓈃 ๋ ㅤ𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠

( yeonie.notes ) these are the only song kang characters i know quite a bit about so i wasn't able to include the maknae line srry. 585wc. gn!centered.

꒰⠀hee⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀seung.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as hwang sun-oh from love alarm . . . falls first and falls harder. the good guy turned toxic because he loves you too much. borderline obsessed with you sometimes. quite literally needs to have you in his sight for him to be calm. loves ringing your love alarm everytime he comes close to you but absolutely hates it when other guys ring it too. waits for you during lunch break to walk to the cafeteria together. loves watching you do the simplest things. pulls you to the blind spots around the premises every other day to make out and do other unholy things. in his world there is only you he can't and will not see any one else, boys and girls alike. rich guy takes the bus with you and for you only. does everything to show people you're his. baby, ring my alarm please?

꒰⠀jong⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀seong.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as lee chae-rok from navillera . . . the mysterious and distant guy who was actually a sugar coated sweet pie in disguise. helps you with everything he can. tells you if there's ever a problem then you just need to give him a call and he'll be there. always looks in the eyes even when he turns red everytime, he just finds you so beautiful, his love. consoles you by making you forget everything around but him. pauses his ballet practice whenever you show up and disappears with you into one of the rooms to take a break. all disheveled, panting and sweating as you cling together. loves how you show up to his competitions to cheer him on. always tries to make you smile. it hurts his heart to see you hurt. you're my lucky charm.

꒰⠀jae⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀yun.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as park jae-eon from nevertheless . . . the major red flag turn green flag guy. loves sneaking up on you to steal kisses anywhere and everywhere. aware of how his body effects you and uses it to his full advantage, again touching you anywhere and everywhere in front of anyone and everyone. shows up unannounced to your unit just because he misses you or he's in the mood to ruin you. always i mean always kisses your lips to get or give a taste of any thing y'all have in your mouth. walks you to all your classes and pins you to wall at least once on the way. actually really cares about you but you're so hot he's too horny all the time to show it. overall my boy corrupted you to the core in every way possible. do you want to go see butterflies?

꒰⠀sung⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀hoon.⠀꒱⠀ ⠀🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as jung gu-won from my demon . . . the sexy incubus like demon who can't believe he fell so hard for a human. lives for the way you drool over his visuals. needs to hold you for every second of his life. boy doesn't give a fuck about anyone that's not you. uses his demon abilities to take you to scenic restricted areas like the top of a prohibited building to show you the stars or drive the car insanely fast to get somewhere he can touch you freely. there's this unspoken dynamic of a predator and his prey, especially when he's rearranging your guts. will get you anything you want through his powers. drives you everywhere you're his princess, you don't need to do anything. never fails to give you a goodbye kiss. you're my fate that i cannot defy.

TAGLIST ( open. )

#enhypen imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen hyung line #enhypen smut #enhypen drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #wonryllis

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coxxxmo · 5 months

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𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

[0] 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿

Masterlist

Dear Future Husband,

To you who has taken away my solitude through the storms in your eyes, to you who has taken over all of my living dreams,your gaze is a tempest that renders my world beautifully chaotic - I hope this letter finds its way to you dearest one.

Tell me, is there a new envoy in your company? Passing my messages to you? Does the moon whisper to you the musings I’ve shared about you? Has it told you of my deepest desires? In the quiet of the night, lately I have been finding solace in the company of the moon. I’ve been telling it all about you - your beautiful smile that makes my heart stop, your laughter that resonates like a melody in my mind, your eyes that stir something unknown deep within me, your voice that echoes within me and the heaven knows, I just can’t seem to get you out of my head.

Like the faceless man in my dreams, you have been haunting me; You have been haunting me with your whirlpool of existence which is sure to stir up my entire world if I get too close.

But Isn't it romantic that, beneath the vast expanse of the same sky, we share a celestial connection? As we both look upon the stars that decorate the night sky, the same moon that graces your night sky also bathes mine in its gentle glow, creating a luminous thread that connects both of us.

I’ll be honest; I’m not exactly sure how this love letter thing works, but all I know is that I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. Archons, I crave you, and I crave your touch. The idea of us kissing feels like a storm inside me, and I can't help but want you close to myself.

When I think about holding your hand and drawing little patterns with our fingers, it feels like magic. There's something pulling me towards you, and it's stronger than anything else. These feelings feel new to me and I'm still figuring them out like getting lost in a maze. Even then my heart always seems to point toward you, and each day, that pull becomes even stronger.

With each word, I'm sharing a part of my heart. As I fold this letter and seal it with a kiss, it holds not just my words but the promise of the future yet you come. Until our paths cross, and until the day I can call you mine. I send this letter off to the unknown, leaving it at the hands of the fates weaving our story.

Yours Lovingly.

⤷ Synopsis :

In a world dominated by algorithms and measured affections, where love is dissected as a complex equation, Will the pursuit of love transcend the boundaries of logic? Can the heart, guided by a mere letter, lead to a connection that defies reason?

Are you willing to take the journey where the lines between reason and romance blur? Will you be drawn into a completely different world, or will your story continue along its familiar course?

But above all, the burning question remains: whose doorstep will become the final destination for this seemingly innocuous letter?

Modern!au

⤷ pairing : genshin men x reader

⤷ taglist : @sako-mii @oni-girx @chevcore @moonlybxbe @rachoka @sangoqueenkoko @veekoko

⤷ a/n : AHHHHH IM DONE WRITING THE LETTER AFTER AGES. It was harder than it seemed I'll be honest....BUT now that the story starts It'll be much more fun, trust me. Hoping that the other parts are more regular..

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

Lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!!

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mutualdemise · 8 months

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I'm down bad for a Jingliu yandere, who is using force/violence to make you stay

Future Proof [Yandere! Jingliu x GN! Reader]

Content warning: mentions of blood and violence

"If you want to entertain me so badly, pick this up and use the sharp end to finish him off."

In the midst of a cruel yet swift confrontation, she tossed you the man's blade, the one he had used to defend himself against her. You swallowed dryly, the clanging of metal against stone piercing through the wind's hollow tune. He lay there quietly, your shadow casting over him like a cold blanket. His eyes shifted to yours, his face skewed in horror, silently staring at you like cattle to a farmer.

It was comparable to an insect that was too slow—the man stopping in his tracks just as he saw you, asking if you were one of the missing persons. It was funny at the moment of his interaction, but Jingliu did not take kindly to humour. She lingered behind you, the strings of your confinement being her gaze. When he noticed her and reached for his sword, she swiftly struck him.

Like an insect, he couldn't even struggle. His sword was hastily tossed away, and his body was doused in his own blood. Who knew so much blood could come out of one person?

"You can end his life, ceasing the suffering instantly. Or you leave. There's a possibility he'll survive, but if that happens," She looks at you, staring straight into your eyes despite her blindfold. You could feel her crimson gaze burning through you, scathing and burning red hot.

"Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to start your lessons early. Count this as your first." Her voice drags on like silk weaving through your ears, and you're stuck rigidly staring at the sword tossed carelessly by your feet. You weren't going to kill the stranger who merely made a mistake by humouring Jingliu's attempts to teach you, but could you let him suffer with such little chance of survival in the first place? Jingliu liked to poke at you through situations like these: a scientist testing different methods. Her mind games were an abrasive attempt to get you to stay with her; out of your own will, sharpened to her liking.

"And if I don't do either?" You drawl, your arms limp by your sides. She liked it when you challenged her, knowing it would cost you her grace of mercy later on. Your legs ached, and your body tired from how hard she liked to push you to your limits.

"Then you'd stay here, watching the light leave this man's eyes." She spoke with an eloquent vigour, always saying 'you' instead of 'we' as if her body were long gone, a ghost of a monster haunting your shadow. You mourned your shadow, tainted by this fate, so tired of bearing to have to push past each day. It felt so slow, and yet when you look back, only a handful of days have passed. You contemplated escaping or even submitting to her will, but you felt if you were going to submerge yourself in this fate, you would get a say in how it would happen.

"If you're going to teach me, wouldn't it be easier to get me to do it myself?" You prodded, staring at your own reflection in the stranger's sword. Both were trapped and helpless, unless you removed yourself completely. Maybe saving this person would at least give you the satisfaction of defying Jingliu's games, and that would be through another game you imposed.

"Did you want to fight him?" Jingliu lightly taunted, her voice always a hollow monotone, but gradually you picked up on the slightest inflections in her responses, recognising her way of displaying emotion.

"Perhaps if he survived, then he would live to remember this encounter and train harder." You implied lightly, as Jingliu showed interest as she advanced towards you.

“And if you lose to him?" She hovered around you, an invisible forcefield restraining you from being touched. Jingliu might have slaughtered countless beings, but she drew the line at touching you without coming to her out of your own volition. She was a patient wolf, feeding a lamb for a bigger meal.

"I'll let you do anything to me, as long as it feels good."

#jingliu #yandere hsr #hsr #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #requests open #yandere hsr x reader #hsr jingliu #jingliu x reader #yandere jingliu #yandere requests #female yandere #gender neutral reader #gn reader #yandere x gn reader

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ellalalala · 3 months

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Snippet from a Dottore x Reader fic that I'm working on! Hopefully posting this will motivate me to work harder on it.

Zandik stepped closer. “I won’t let you die. I will save you.” Spoken with a confidence undeserved, his words served to soothe you, but only temporarily. You looked up at him with wide eyes, as if hoping to find an answer in his unreadable expression, while Zandik, to his credit, stood calm and motionless. “Why?” you asked. His jaw clenched. What could he say to that? Because you are my patient, and it is my duty as a physician to help you. Because you are a friend – my only friend. Because you are the only person to treat me like someone worthy of respect, and it shouldn’t mean much- and yet. He couldn’t tell you. What was the point? After what happened to Sohreh... There was no longer any use in trying to connect with people – no use in trying to reconnect with you. “Helping my patients is the least that I can do,” Zandik lied. He averted his gaze so as to not see the miserable look on your face – he couldn’t bear it. Something inside him ached when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. To his relief, you said nothing as he slipped through the curtains surrounding your bed. Come morning, you’d refuse to speak to him. Your mental coherence would deteriorate faster than that of the other specimens, and only three weeks later, you would die. Zandik thought it utterly ridiculous. You weren’t supposed to pass. He’d promised to help you – and it hadn’t been out of the goodness of his heart, no, there could be no such thing as a good heart, not in his case – he simply felt that it was something that had to be done. You were his only companion. When the sages chased him out of the Akademiya, you had been the only person to not scowl at him like he was something disgusting. And Zandik failed you. Why were you more susceptible to the symptoms of Eleazar than the others? Why did you pass so soon? He was just figuring out how to stabilize the effects of the Withering on the human body. Zandik could have helped you. He was pensive as he gazed at you. Zandik wished you had been anything but human – he wished you had been a machine. A mechanical life form of some sort that could transcend the earthly boundaries placed upon you by fate. Oh, what a cruel, wretched thing it was; he despised it, despised Celestia. They took you away from him twice. Both times, he had been too weak to defy fate. Zandik closed his eyes, willing himself to remain calm. Self-loathing wormed its way into his chest, as if it had never left.

the main idea of the story summed up in one sentence: Dottore creates a segment of his deceased friend due to some very complicated feelings that he never properly handled, but unfortunately for him, things go a bit awry.

I'm hoping to post this sometime soon. :)

#il dottore #dottore #zandik #dottore x reader #snippet #my writing #genshin impact #yayyy #shameless promo

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blakeswritingimagines · 10 months

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Dating Villain! Daemon Would Include:

Being a villain, people are going to talk about him. When someone talks about him, it's probably going to be about his deeds or actions. You know, who he's hurt, what he's destroyed. But when someone wants to talk about him as a person and they want to understand what makes him tick, to know him-he has to look at the person who loves him and asks you how you see him.

In simple terms. Exhilarating. He cannot tell you how thrilling it is to break so many moral and physical boundaries when you are with someone as twisted as he is. He feels free to be himself, to do as he pleases, knowing that regardless of what happens, you are always on the same twisted wavelength. And he is so unpredictable, that you are constantly on your toes. He loves the way he feels with his love by his side. And of course, you love watching him burn.

I must confess, that the relationship is not always easy. Despite the thrill, you both have a habit of becoming toxic, bound together, you are like a timebomb ready to explode. He often finds the intensity and unpredictability to be difficult to navigate in a relationship. But it is the drama that keeps him coming back. Love is messy, love is difficult, and being with you reminds him of that fact.

Aside from the excitement of doing the wrong thing, he finds himself fascinated with your mind and the way it works. You'll constantly be surprised by his thought processes, the reasoning behind his dark deeds. So much so that the little amount of morals you have left are constantly tested. And at the same time, you'll find yourself drawn deeper and deeper into his dark embrace. He is consumed by you, utterly and fully. He is yours, mind, body, and soul.

There is simply nothing quite like it. The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of testing fate, the excitement of pushing boundaries and defying conventional morality. But, to do so with your soulmate and partner in crime is something truly spectacular. You are made for one another. He is the embodiment of everything dark, wrong, and forbidden, and you will be in absolute heaven because of it. The things you can do together, both in and out of the spotlight, are things of legends.

You push him to be the best version of himself, and he believes you would say the same. He's been with many people in his time, and none of them have been able to truly bring out his darker side like you do. You know how to bring out his true colors and push him to his limits. And for someone as volatile and unpredictable as himself, he really needs a love like you to keep him engaged. You are the perfect combination of darkness and beauty, and he has no doubt you are his soulmate.

When he is with you, he feels no constraints. There are no limits to how far he can push the boundaries. And you push back just as hard, if not harder. You both are free to break rules and defy laws in pursuit of your interests and desires. It is exhilarating to know that he is with someone who is willing to go as far as him. It is almost as if you are daring him to cross the line, knowing full well that he will always push it further. The power dynamic is intoxicating.

The best part of it all is your sheer loyalty. There is no fear of betrayal, no need to worry about her abandoning or forsaking him, all of your plans and plots are always a joint effort and there is a level of stability and security he's never experienced before. You will always have his back and fight alongside him against those who would oppose your dark ways.

He feels a sense of freedom with his love by his side. He feels like he can live out his every dark desire, push the boundaries of what’s right and wrong, and even defy the Gods themselves because he knows that his love is right there with him. He feels free, empowered, and liberated in a way he never has before. He feels like he has a partner and a confidant who understands and accepts him for who he is and is able to match and even surpass him in terms of darkness.

Well, I have to say, it can also be quite the emotional rollercoaster. Because although you both love your dark and twisted lives, you are still two very troubled and emotionally complicated individuals. You'll have your ups and downs, like any normal relationship, but dare I say your ups and downs are a bit more extreme due to your wicked ways. But it's all part of the game for you both. You love each other, flaws and all. You learn to embrace the chaos.

When dating Daemon, one must be cautious of their words. He takes everything literally and is quick to anger. He is also prone to bouts of madness, so it is important to pay attention to the state of his mind when interacting with him. Despite these challenges, Daemon is passionate and loyal to the people he has loved and he has a soft spot for people even if he finds it funny that they fear him.

He has a soft spot for those who show courage and loyalty. When it comes to the person he loves, he takes pleasure in watching you fight and struggle to please him. He will punish you for disobeying him but will reward you for being good, giving him exactly what he desires. The affection he desires must involve pain, pleasure, and domination.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #house of the dragon #dating would include #hotd daemon targaryen #hotd daemon #hotd headcanon #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon headcanon

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theshippingqueens-blog · 3 months

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More puzzleshipping stuff

They knew. It was nearing the time for him to go - only a week left.

“Aibou, it’s alright,” Yami murmured, “We knew this was going to happen. You’ll be fine.”

He ducked his head, determined to not let him see the tears that he indubitably knew were streaming down his face. Hands came up to curl gently around his biceps, trailing down to catch the loose fists he had brought up for unconscious protection.

There was a tumble of emotions across their link, scatterings of love and pain, acceptance and regret and sadness. It sparked like the primeval neurons each thought was intimately made of.

This rippling uproar, solid grief, and submissive torture placated themselves between them. Ages of memories were wound around them. His other self (to which he had the unsettling feeling that permission would be revoked), so ever loving, kissed his forehead with the closeness that was only ever born from years of absence and mingling between two fractured souls.

“It’ll be okay,” was the calm, weathered reassurance repeated into his fringe of starry-colored hair.

He pressed his fist hard against his chin, resisting the urge to scratch the place where his tears stripped his skin. His arms shook as his larynx strained to keep the uneven sobs from becoming vocal.

It was the greatest lie he’d ever told him, and he very much wished that for just one moment, they could be honest.

There was a steep cost to the magic that had been trapped in that awful, gilded box. Like a grotesque monolith, cobbled together by the foundation of their fallen enemies, mangled souls, blood, sweat, and sleep, the sacrifices to that long-dead pharaoh’s covenant with the devil reared up before them. And now, as its acme, it asked one more offering — insurmountable love, snuffed out by the inarguable reality that it was fate.

Yugi wondered if his other could understand — if he wanted to. In his deepest heart, he hoped that the spirit had not tried. His most precious friend had already suffered enough — he deserved to be spared the yawning wound that this break would surely cause. He was going home — to family, friends, to loved ones he had been desperate to meet again for more than his fair share of lifetimes. He had done more than enough to earn his heaven — and in the Field, there could not be pain like this. It defied the very idea of Elysium.

He could take this last blow. He could bear this final burden so that this person he loved more than himself could find peace.

So he allowed the sweet lie whispered against his forehead, and clung to the astral hand budding warmth spreading from where his other’s mind cradled him.

And he cried. He cried because he knew he needed to be strong in front of the spirit when the day came, but right now everything was alright. Lie everything was going down in flames His Aibou was crying and He could feel a small lump forming in the back of his throat he's never felt this way he had always stayed strong even in the harshest times but now he saw his Aibou sobbing and he could do nothing about it hurt not even a trip to the shadow realm could be this painful. Everything seemed to be a lie now the fact that fate was rolling the dice for these two was hard enough but what was even harder was the fact that they had to say goodbye when neither of these two wanted to say goodbye. They were like yin and yang two halves of one soul insperable but only fate could tear them apart as well as bring them together. The spirit tangled his fingers into the boy's hair trying to calm him down as his heavy sobs grew quieter yet tears still streamed down the boy's face like two waterfalls. The Hikari finally met the eyes of the Pharoah as a sad smile formed on the pharaoh's face "H-hey don't cry please it hurts to see you cry." Yami pleased wiping away a few tears from the boy's face sending a dust of hot pink to the boy's cheeks." sorry atem." the boy whispered looking away from the spirit "Hey don't be sorry it's normal to cry." He said cupping the boy's cheek and turning his head so they were looking into each other's eyes. Amesthsy met crimson. A shaky sigh escaped Yugi's lips as Yami placed another soft kiss on the Hikari's forehead."Don't worry so much OK spend this time with me like we used to before all this happened okay." Small tears left the boy's eyes again " You can’t die. I love you. So if you die you'll be leaving someone who loves you." the hikari murmured.

Thought he said it low enough for the spirit not to hear yet he was wrong dead wrong "Yugi...." The spirit whispered his eyes going wide in disbelief at what his Aibou had just said. Yugi looked up shocked his face scarlet. "Did I.......?"He asked. "Did you mean it? Yugi felt his heart racing he just made the biggest mistake ever. "I-I-I" He couldn't even form proper words anymore. "Did you mean what you just said? "The spirit said again as the boy's breathing picked up."I don't know." He said his head spinning. He didn't need the spirit to know any of this he wasn't supposed to find out this way his feelings were supposed to be with him and only him until death.

"Yugi.....why did you say it then? Why would you say something like that only to not know if you meant it?!?” The spirit yelled making the boy wince tears of rage spilling down the spirit's face this hurt if he didn't mean it if he said he didn't love the pharaoh it would shatter his soul into tiny pieces.

"Atem........"The boy said a cluster of tears falling down his face "WHAT! what could you say to make this any better?" The spirit said in a blind rage. Making more tears fall from the boy's eyes "N-never mind." the boys said as the pharaoh disappeared into the puzzle

~A Week Later~

The battle between the two souls had begun as fast as it was about to end. Yugi was determined to win this it was the least he could do especially after what happened the week before. Their fight had left the young Hikari restless and still upset. This was the final turn of the duel the final attack. Yugi couldn’t bear to do it as much as he wanted the pharaoh to return to the afterlife he couldn’t watch him leave even when they hadn’t really been on speaking terms since last week but he did it anyway. “Silent magician direct attack on the player! Silent Burning.” The attack was successful as the boy dropped to his knee tears streaming down his face. He defeated him he had done it. As the mist cleared you could see a small smile on the pharaoh's face. “you did it Aibou you won.” He said walking up to the crying boy. ”Stand up the winner shouldn't be on his knees. If I were you I wouldn't cry.” He said to the sobbing Hikari. “I... I'm too weak... You were my hero... My goal... I wanted to be strong... Like you... That's all...” There was some truth behind this statement yes he wanted to be strong but he also wanted to love him with all the love he could give and so much more. ”Hey it's okay Aibou your own person.” He said lifting his chin to meet his eyes. ”Your Yugi the most wonderful human being I’ve ever met and nobody I mean nobody could ever change that That’s what I love about you.” He said making him stand. “B-but you're going to leave..” He said wiping a few tears away from his face. “Aibou if I leave that doesn't mean I don’t love and care about you you’ll always be in my heart no matter what.” He said cupping his Hikari’s cheek and wiping away the rest of his tears. ”Atem….I’m sorry about what I said a week ago it just hurt to see you leave so soon and I thought it would make things harder if you knew my feelings.” He said honestly. It felt better to say that out loud than keeping it bottled up the countless nights of sleep lost between the both of them because of this one fight. “I forgive you it's not your fault I blew up and I shouldn’t have done that.” The crowd awed around the two lovebirds. As the pharaoh left the Hikari called out to his darker half one last time “I love you.” The darker half smiled and said the same. Even if Yugi’s true love had left him he’d always be in his heart.

~The End~

#yugi mutou #pharaoh atem #puzzleshipping #yugioh #yugioh duel monsters

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entomolog-t · 1 year

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G/t tropes/blurbs/aspects: There’s so many good ones! The first encounter filled with wonder and fear. The gentle protection of a caring giant. But my favorite? Trust. The trust building from both sides. Trusting your giant friend to care about you and letting yourself be seen by someone who you feel like doesn’t need to. Trusting the tiny to come back and keep their word, while being completely in power but letting them have control. Even when that trust breaks, and they both try their best to fix it despite everything cause they want to trust the other; it’s just going to be a bit harder this time. Just Trust in G/t is huge. I love it slowly building up through interactions where one side might be nervous or one side might be WAYY too excited or it’s seen as unsafe to even try. Do what you will with this and be a Psychologist! I don’t mind :P

Okay, lets get another one!

First encounters are one of my favorite tropes as well. The feelings are so much more raw.

Trust is a powerful human emotion, which normally relies on essentially a bank of actions and observations as well as a few leaps of faith. In a G/t context, it acts as a very concentrated form of building trust. The stakes are much higher, and the gestures must be much more grand in order to cover a fraction of the ground. Small slip ups from the giant can result in a massive loss of trust from the tiny.

The archetype of the tiny often represents a desire to be vulnerable and to have that vulnerability respected.

In your example, it seems like the Giant has an important task of suppressing ones own wants and desires as a sacrifice to garner trust. Controlling one's impulses and having faith the tiny will see that action as enough to offer their own olive branch.

This could indicate a personal need for clear consent and personal boundaries, as well as a yearning to be vulnerable with those able to respect those boundaries. It also seems to suggest you want others to have faith in you in some form or another. The olive branch extended by the giant of simply respecting the autonomy of another being is not a large one if you actually do view the being as your equal, so the act of returning especially in the first meeting as mentioned prior, is a huge act of trust by the tiny, and takes a great deal of both faith and acceptance by the giant.

The act of letting the tiny go is a symbolic exchange of power. The Giant can enact their will if they so choose, but by offering their own power and trust as a sacrifice to the tiny, they hope to gain their trust in return. However it is only when it is a genuine sacrifice does this trope normally take place. The giant must be aware the tiny is not likely to return, or at the very least is not trying to guilt the tiny to return. They have left the proverbial ball in their court, no strings attached.

You specifically mention trust breaking and being mended, which harkens to a mature understanding of growth and knowledge that mistakes happen. The care to continually rebuild trust is generally symbolic of one's desire to be valued; To be worth the effort and the maintenance. This may suggest you don't like your personal relationships to become complacent, and you attribute aspects of your own personal value in the actions others take to show the care and respect you.

I wouldn't be surprised if you mirror this in your own friendships and relationships as well, showing that you care through specific and repetitive actions.

Some of your word choice also implies yearning for intrinsic value. Having the relationship be difficult but both parties work hard at it, being deeply nervous or overly excited, as well as it being seen as unsafe. All signs point to no, but something deeper says yes. A search for purpose, or fate, or a connection that defies logic.

A good exercise would be to further analyze the acts that build the trust and dissect how those may apply to you. Example;

Giant does not initially touch the tiny, - why does this appeal? Perhaps individuals don't respect your autonomy so the thought of someone who has no need to respect it bowing to your will fills you with a feeling of power and being cared for and respected.

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Oh, look at that, thats all our time for this session. My secretary has your payment information and an automated bill will be deducted from your account in 3-5 business days.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #G/t tropes #G/t trope psychology

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redstonedust · 2 years

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i feel like you could easily argue that the new rules of each traffic games season serve to punish the winner of the last one. like... grian won by exploiting the fact he had a red ally to engage fights, so in last life the new rules make it much harder to trust anyone. scott wins by playing passive and defying the boogey curse, so the double life rules adds an unavoidable element of fate and eliminates life trading.

anyways this vague concept makes me think back on the lore of there being other games/stuck in a loop (established by martyn i believe?) and wondering who won them & under what circumstances. like maybe past iterations had a larger playing field? maybe you could kill on any life count? maybe it was one heart hardcore?

personally i'd like to headcanon that the winner of the previous game was martyn, playing very isolationist. so the games decided to bring in a bunch of new players, most of which either he knows or know eachother, as a way of saying 'try going solo when you have all these social idiots to play with now idiot' . becuase i think itd be funny and because itd explain why 3rd life is the first game with this specific roster of people yknow.

#bluh bluh traffic games headcanon rambling

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larrysficlibrary · 2 months

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Angst

Fics with the tag 'Angst'

❥ all we can do is keep breathing [310k] ♡ thealmightyavocado

"Harry, I- I'm so sorry..." Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louis' soul, it's so hard, nearly impossible. That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself. But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words, slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty "I'm so sorry" that doctors through out in self-preservation, isn't at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it. ✚☤✚ a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.

❥ one breath at a time [427k WIP] ♡ thealmightyavocado

"Louis, I know it's hard, but I need you to focus and tell me exactly what happened, ok?" Louis is shaking uncontrollably, his hands, his heart, his mind, nothing is stable, nothing is ok. He feels untethered, boundless in time, yet paradoxically his entire life is torturously bound to this very moment. Absolutely nothing he tells his mind serves to calm his racing thoughts, he commands his body to move and his body betrays him, commands lips to speak, but no words form. All Louis can do is blindly stare at the sickeningly heavy blood coating his arms, dripping to his trembling fingers. Tears ceaselessly pour down his cheeks despite how hard he squeezes his eyes shut, trying desperately to calm himself enough to utter a sound. An he can't breathe, despite all of his failed efforts to catch his wandering breath and gasp a much-needed lungful of oxygen, his diaphragm constricts further still, suffocating him from the inside out. breathe, breathe, breathe Louis forces a sharp inhale that hurts as the breath expands his stilted lungs, god it hurts. Like stabbing his chest with a serrated knife, dragging the jagged blade through his heart over and over and over again until there is nothing left.

❥ These Hallowed Woods [36k] ♡ snowcaplou

Before he can allow himself to feel bad for himself, Harry is coming back into the cave. He's changed into his wolf form and hanging from his bloody maw is the largest bear pelt that Louis has ever seen. The first thought that enters his mind is how. How did Harry manage to kill something so big when his best trackers can barely find scraps in these woods. The second thought the flies through his mind is: Oh fuck. Because Harry has just laid a pelt at his feet. There's no mistaking what is happening any longer. Harry has just presented Louis with an invitation for courtship. OR Louis becomes Luna of the Tomlinson Pack after the untimely death of his father, the Pack Alpha. Saddled with his newfound responsibility and an unpleasantly demanding pack council, he finds secret respite in the arms of a rogue wold that camps out just outside his territory. The only problem? The rogue has no idea who Louis actually is, and as Louis falls harder and harder for the man he escapes to every night, the weight of his lies steers him along a path of certain misery.

❥ Back to the Beginning [857k] ♡ LHStylinson

Prequel to All About Us. After Harry and Louis share some of their story with the boy that stole their daughter's heart we go back to where it all started. From the very beginning they fall in love and we see their lives without their kids and watch as their relationship is tested. The struggle of becoming teen parents and then turning their lives into what they have in All About Us.

❥ When You Least Expect It [182k] ♡ LHStylinson

Harry and Louis' son is on a journey of self discovery and figuring out his own sexuality, with some very unexpected turns for the Tomlinson family along the way.

❥ Take Your Time [247k] ♡ LHStylinson

Rosie Tomlinson is the third oldest of the Tomlinson kids and seems to have broken the tradition of falling in love by 18. It's her first year of uni and she still hasn't held a boy's hand, hasn't had a real first kiss. When she does meet a boy though she knows bringing him home won't be easy. Her dad (Louis) will be even more overprotective than he was over her older sister, Alexis. But at least Rosie has her pop (Harry) as help to somewhat keep her dad from losing his head.

❥ A Darker Shade of Love [751k] ♡ LittleSpoonStyles94

Louis is a 30 year old multi-billionaire with a very dark past. He is violent and is a sadist with a taste for pain. Harry Styles is a 19 year old student who sets out to London after being kicked out by his homophobic father to follow his dreams. He wants to go to the best University to study but he needs a lot of money so he starts to work as a part time stripper at a gay club to support his studies and his life. The club he works at, Garland's, is part owned by Louis Tomlinson. When they meet, its life changing for the both of them.

❥ Compass to my Soul [31k] ♡ LadyLondonderry ♡ Espanol

Harry Styles, alpha, is 1/4 of the perfect pack, and 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time touring the world with his best friends and family. Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don't notice him.

#larry stylinson #larry fanfiction #larry fic #fic rec #larry fic rec

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