#and now he's suffering eternal punishment
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Hydrangeas'
Lucifer x Reader
Warnings: Hanahaki fic. Established relationship, jealousy, self-doubt, relationship anxiety, blood, vomit.
Part 1
Word count: 1,241
Hell was never some where people actively wanted to end up; Tales of an eternal afterlife of suffering and punishment, when you first arrived in hell that’s what you expected. Opening your eyes to see a… Some what inviting place, was absolutely not what you had expected.
However that was years ago, now you’re helping Charlie with the hotel, no real want to redeem yourself. Charlie always asks you why and you have to just shrug and not really explain, your relationship with her father was a secret and you didn’t know how she would react to him dating someone else other than her mother.
You always heard from Charlie how amazing their love story is and how deeply in love they where, “I mean he still wears her ring” she would say. You always deluded yourself to think the reason he kept it on was because he still was in love with her. That he still solely cared about her, you felt you had no place to tell him he has to take it off, he was grieving the loss of his wife and you have to respect that.
But when with him, and just him. You never felt any pressure to be something different. Dancing around in his flower garden, his arms resting around your waist, yours hanging loosely around his shoulders.
Music was playing softly in the background, post modern jukebox. He always says how he loves more classical and older styled music compared to the new way music was made, but you where born in the early 2000’s and enjoyed the music you grew up with. So you made a deal (though not a magical one) that we only listen to music covered by them so we both get enjoyment out of music while with eachother.
Stopping for a moment you detached from him to look at the garden, that is why you where invited over after all. To see his flower garden, he stays at the hotel but doesn’t trust any of the staff in the palace to actually look after the garden properly so he comes every day to make sure they’re being well looked after.
Lilies…Lilly of the valley… Royal lilly… Spider lilly… His love for Lillith ran deep and you’re no longer sure to yourself if he loves you as much.
“Y/N.. Are you alright? You’ve been looking at the flowers for awhile” He says, his voice is so sweet to you and you’re starting to hate it, you hate how jealous you’re becoming…How possessive. You want people say how in love he seems with you, you want flowers to be planted and taken care of as well as he does as these for you. You want to be more with him.
Ofcourse though, he doesn’t give you much more time to think as he scoops you into his arms, pulling you into a deep hug, lifting you off of the ground. Looking down was a mistake as you realise how quickly and how far you had gone off of the ground now.
Like any sane person you cling onto him worried about falling, souls where a fragil thing, and that’s all you where. A sinner, a lost soul who wasn’t good enough to get into heaven.
You could feel the two of you turning slowly in the air like a ballerina in a music box, scared still you look up at Lucifer and he has the worlds most loving and dotefull eyes. The moment seemed perfect, you hadn’t had a first kiss yet and thought it was now or never you swear you feel him pulling away but then feel the rain coming down, he laughs a bit and despite being confused you laugh along as he carefully but quickly hurries the both of you inside.
You can’t help but smile and laugh more at your circus leader boyfriend’s soaked hair and clothing making him look a bit like a sewer rat. He smiles too and for the first moment since being there today there was no doubt, no anxiety or second thoughts about your relationship with him.
“I’ll go get a towel for you” He says grinning with his sharp teeth you nod in response, “Okay Luce” you say and wonder the foyer into the overtly large dining room, raising your eyebrow at the grand and glaringly expensive dining room.
Lucifer doesn’t take long too come back puting the towel on your damp head for you to dry yourself off with. He takes a seat on the chair in front of you as he grabs your hands..Which forces you to drop the towel and look at him. “You’re so gorgeous Y/N” he’d tell you, you smile. You can’t help it, he has that effect on you. Something about him naturally makes you fall for him, wanting his praise and approval, some type of weird spell was cast on you the day you met him.
You didn’t even realise when you said it, fucking hell you regretted it the moment it came past your lips. You felt his hands retract from his, watched as his face fell and fear take over his previously peaceful and happy expression.
“I love you” is what you said..Regret is what you felt when he reacted that way, hurt is what you felt when he said “I’m sorry?” as if the complete notion of ever being loved by someone was lost on him. He laughed a bit when you didn’t respond, as if your feelings where a joke and what you had said was some type of childish prank.
Your heart ached, it twisted and turned and you where still, frozen in place as your heart begged your brain to start to allow you to move, run away. You can’t deal with him laughing in your face. It hurt. It wasn’t until the vomit crawled up into your throat that you felt your eyes tearing up. The rain didn’t seem to be a concern anymore as your legs moved.
They moved faster than you thought you could ever possibly do. Your own mind washing out the way he called out for you, the concerned voices of the hotel patrons and guests as you ran past and into your room.
You didn’t realise the breath you where holding, the amount of emotions you had until your legs trembled and gave out in your bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. Holding onto the bench you felt the vomit come back up your throat. That horrible feeling of vile burning the back of it until you couldn’t take it anymore and gave in.
As you vomited into the toilet, heaving and gasping for air, feeling as if your lungs where crushing under your ribs. Tears brimming your eyes as you hoped for it to pass.
The metallic taste in your mouth brought you out of the daze, confused you pat your finger tips to the soft skin of your lips.. Blood, there was blood on your lip, looking down at the toilet basin you see some of what you expect, pale vomit.. You didn’t expect to see a mix of blood as well as blue and while hydrangea petals.
You thought to yourself how stupid this was.
This had to be some weird curse, you read about it when you where alive. It was fictional right?
Well…Fiction is always based on some type of truth..
#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#lucifer magne#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#x reader
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Acotar Rant/Headcanon (Depending on how you look at it)
Personally, I think we should lock Rhysand in the Prison.
Don't kill him, let him rot for the rest of eternity. Let him slowly go insane while the wind whispers of how much better off Feyre and Nyx are without him. How much better the Night Court is doing without him.
Let him hear about Tamlin recovering his Court and slowly healing. I want Rhysand to be rotting in utter misery and insanity when he hears Tamlin and Feyre, on opposite sides of Prythian let out one sigh as they finally let go of their trauma. I want him to feel every bit of relief they have that he's not there.
He can listen to his son one day taking on the Court. Listen to his grandchildren and their children as they slowly forget he even existed. Not even a horrible bedtime story like he was hoping for, not even a whisper of his name. They simply forget he's down there and he has to continue on with that.
Maybe he'd lose his mind after a while, or become an old tale only remembered by very few. Maybe he'd turn to actual dust, or maybe he would become something like Lanthys. Something spiteful and full of rage all the time.
Maybe one day a girl like Feyre or Nesta will come down there on another mission and he'll be accidently set free, but like rest of anything that was accidently set free of the Prisons, he is turned to dust or quickly locked back up.
I just want him to suffer in silence, with only his mind to keep him company. Just remembering every single bad thing, he ever did to the people that used to love him, how he took advantage of them, and how they now know they are better off without him.
Who knows, maybe he'll come around and truly be regretful of what he's done. Maybe he would actually want to make it up and then and only then would be relieved of his sentence.
Or he'll become angrier and bitterer, slowly growing more insane as the centuries pass.
Either way, I think that's a worser punishment than death or any form of torture. I think for someone who can control minds the only way you can really get through to them is by fucking with their mind.
#acotar#anti rhysand#a court of thorns and roses#acotar headcanons#acotar au#acotar rant#just needed everyone to be aware of this
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Ya'll want to know the funniest shit?
I'm researching the era when Alastor was alive right now to get a better idea of both his character, the life he lived before Hell, and to hash out a backstory for him.
And so, apparently, Alastor lived through the Prohibition (which was basically the United States government illegalizing the manufacture, transportation, and sale of alcohol because they thought it was the cause of a lot of domestic violence and child abandonment).
Alastor canonically died in 1933.
Do you know how long the Prohibition lasted?
From 1920-1933.
ALASTOR LITERALLY DIED THE SAME YEAR ALCOHOL BECAME LEGAL AGAIN. CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW BITTER HE MUST'VE BEEN?
The Prohibition officially ended on December 5, 1933, and now my headcanon is that Alastor died December 6, 1933. Literally the day after he could legally drink all the booze he wanted.
I am learning a LOT about New Orleans and the era Alastor lived through (including the gay community in the city at the time) which has been a lot of fun, and I just wanted to share that tidbit because it is so fucking funny to me.
#guys i just#its so funny#can you imagine Alastor gets the news#everything is awesome#the next day he's planning to go out drinking and have a good time#but first he needs to get rid of this body#it shouldn't take too long#just a few hours#and THEN this motherfucking hunter decides to ignore hunting laws and mistakes him for a deer#when he wakes up he's in Hell#I can just imagine the realization setting in#he's SO bitter and angry about it#he was about to get shit-faced and have a fun time at a party#and now he's suffering eternal punishment#he couldn't even get a proper drink first#it was just a fun tidit#ALSO#the gay community in New Orleans at the time is so fascinating#they literally entire communities and neighborhoods#and a lot of it was from mixed race people#and we know Alastor is mixed race#AH I have so so many thoughts#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#the radio demon#hazbin hotel fanart#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon
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No spoilers.
Just that it killed me.
From the first to last.
…
…
…
I need a season 3.
#good omens#good omens 2#neil gaiman#neil gaiman and terry pratchett#michael sheen#david tennant#I’m ready for fanfics on this#fanfics where I write an OC of myself scolding the idiocy the angel has done#I’m ready to fight#I’m ready to hurt#I’m ready for him to suffer worse that he shall never smile again as an eternal punishment!#at the same time don’t want to cause I don’t want him to be upset when he already is#my poor babies… I NEED A FREAKIN SEASON 3#SOMEONE GIVE THE DAMN WRITERS WHAT THEY FREAKIN WANT ALREADY!!!!#okay. a little spoiler in my tag#i was not prepared#not in the ways I hope to have this show to end on season 2#NOW THERES MORE THEY NEED TO COMPLETE AND FIX#god. sent me back to episode 1 when I was laughing and smiling with joy of their presence#not bruised with no way of healing in episode 6#I’m scared for our flag means death now 😭💔
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I honestly have a pretty bad time capturing the heliobi
#I was very sorry about Cirrus towards the end. I was terribly sorry about Keralum. I think it's awful the way they're treated as a whole#I won't even start about how their eternal imprisonment directly benefits the Alliance in how they make use of the heliobi but yes#I like this quest. I think some of the snippets are great and I'm loving the lore#But wow does it make me feel a terrible person at times#I wouldn't be doing this if I was really the MC I would be setting a Heliobi Rights association or something#Yes they're tricky and yes they pose a threat but come on the way they're treated is mostly awful and exaggerated#No wonder they're resentful#I wonder if the relationship is a bit different in the Zhuming. At times it seems it may be better and at times it seems it's even worse#But therein lies my silver lining for now I suppose#I talk too much#Anyway... Until he talked about eternal punishment I loved the way Jing Yuan talked with Cirrus and how he almost... comforted them#I loved their whole game of chess and how Cirrus and Jing Yuan both work in similar ways#Cirrus whines about Jing Yuan not being like Teng Xiao‚ mainly a warrior‚ at all#but for what we know of both generals Jing Yuan seems to be a more fitting opponent to Cirrus. They both work in similar ways#And use even similar analogies and metaphors#Also I may be suffering the blindness of those who can't but see what little they know or what they seek#but again I saw references to xiangqi I think#I love Jing Yuan a lot and I've loved Cirrus ngl#Ahfksjd rambling again#I'm sorry I just realised I didn't censore the names
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soap x cypher masterlist / 18+ mdni / dark and twisty themes overall but this is very soft / inspired by and written for @eilidh-eternal
Johnny is fuming.
You've skipped his lab. Not only have you skipped his lab, but you didn't even let him know. Where are you? He hasn’t even see you in days, getting in late from an op last night, collapsing into bed exhausted. All he wanted was to see your face this morning, peering at him from between the sea of students.
"Sir?"
"What?" He snaps, temper flaring, irritation running hot. The student, a transfer bomb tech from another unit, gulps. Get yerself together, he seethes. Ye're acting like a bloody fool. The tech voices a question, a complicated technical one, but easy to answer, and he rattles off a response before excusing everyone for the day.
He has more important things that need his attention.
He goes back and forth on punishment as he stalks over to the tech building. Overstimulation? Should he tie you to his bed and strap the head of a vibrator to your clit until you're crying? Denial? Humiliation? Should he shave your cunt, and then eat you out for hours, not letting you come once? Should he spank you until your ass is raw and you can't sit for a week?
Anger turns to worry when he steps onto your floor, and doesn't find you. You're not at your console. You're not in the bathrooms, or the break room. You're not anywhere.
He marches to Laswell's office, knocking twice before pushing the door wide, to her surprise.
"Soap?"
"Cypher not in today?" He skips the pleasantries, and she gives him a knowing look.
'She's out sick." Sick? You're sick? His mind is already scrambling, and he barely hears her parting words as he makes for the door, anger draining from his body and being replaced with worry, fear. Why didn't you tell him?
He gets his answer easily enough when you answer his incessant knocking with both wrists in braces, KT tape stretched from the back of your hands to your knuckles. Your face is twisted up, brow furrowed, and he immediately steps forward, hesitant to touch you, but yearning to provide you comfort, to help. To fix.
“Oh, Cy.” He murmurs and you look down to your feet.
“‘m sorry I missed class, I couldn’t… I can’t type, or pick anything up, so-“
“It’s okay. Let’s not worry about that now.” He herds you gently, turning you back into your room, relaxing as he feels you lean into him, one of his hands cradling yours carefully. “Carpal tunnel?” He knows all about it, of course. He has your medical file memorized. Knows about the flare ups that are really bad, knows you’re a perfect candidate for surgery, even though from the looks of it, you’re avoiding that option. He always thought he’d cross that bridge when he came to it, getting you to have the procedures scheduled, but it seems like that bridge is coming up now.
“It’s bad.” You croak. You can’t even work the door handle, trying in vain to flex your fingers, his heart sinking at the agony on your face, when you start to crumple, tears starting in the corners of your eyes.
“Shhh, I’m here, I’m here, wee sweet.” His arms wrap around you, holding you there for a second, rubbing your back, your shoulders, trying to reassure you. “I’ll take care of ye.” He promises, shutting the door with a firm click, and leading you over to your bed, encouraging you to sit, keeping his touch as gentle as he can, as to not jostle you or your hands. “What do ye need?” He smooths a hand over your hair, and you sigh.
“Something to eat.” Oh, sweet Cy. How long have ye felt like this? This is his fault. He should have been here last night. “And some ice, maybe?”
“Have ye taken anything?” He’s already pulling out his phone, shooting a text out to cash in on a favor owed to him by another Sergeant, essentially using them as a delivery service for your needs. “What sounds good to eat?”
“I don’t know, I can’t pick up-“
“I’ll take care of that.” He’s unmoored by your suffering, but a select piece of him is secretly delighted he’ll get to feed you, wash your hair, help you with your clothes, take care of all your needs. His mouth practically waters. You chew on your lip, wincing as you shift and he moves with you, encouraging you to lay down your back, tired eyes blinking up at the ceiling. Poor baby, probably hasnae sleep a wink. “I’ll pick for ye, Cy.”
“Okay.” You whisper, eyes slipping closed. He leans, lips dotting across your forehead.
“I’ve got ye. Want the lights off?” You nod, and he gets up to flick them off, clicking on the little bedside lamp that has the yellow shade, the dim one that you like “Whit feels good for yer hands? Ice? Elevation?”
“Both.” He tacks ice onto the ‘to be delivered list’ and then grabs a pillow, tucking it into your side to place your one wrist on top, arranging your giant quilt on the other to do the same.
He fusses over you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re content, propping you up on more pillows when everything is dropped at your door, and he stashes the ice in the freezer for after he feeds you.
“Got some soup.” He tells you sweetly, and you brighten a little.
“What kind?”
“Yer favorite. The cream of mushroom.” You smile at him and he holds you there, indulging in your sweet expression, until it starts to fade, drooping with realization. Confusion.
“Wait… how do you know it’s my favorite?”
#peaches writes#soap x cypher#soap x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish
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i cry, i pray, mon dieu!
“lord, give me one more chance!”
pairing: afab!reader x re4r!leon
warnings: smut, blasphemy, mentions of virginity loss, dubcon, slapping, religious reader, oral (male receiving), facefucking, corruption, rough sex, semi-public sex, degrading, manipulation, mind break, fucking in a church, crying during sex, creampie, biting, porn with plot (again), mean leon, ooc leon (again x2)
note: part 2 of adieu, mon dieu! he says the thing in this!!! :P
the tears streaming down your painted cheeks form a hot puddle below your feet, a glimpse into eternal hell. “do not be afraid to confess, my child. the lord shall forgive you.” the priest on the other side reassures but it only has you heaving for air as this confined space grows smaller around you. you cannot bear the pain that is confessing the betrayal you committed to your heavenly father just four days ago. nor can you bear to confess that you enjoyed it.
the moment you stepped into this temple for mass, flames sparked throughout the veins of your heart like a wildfire. the blood and body of your god tastes bitter and foul, threatening to come back up and escape your unclean body. each verse, each preaching, each word is a twisted stab into your soul. if hell is anything like being punished right now, you would rather suffer the most torturous death over and over.
“forgive me, i can’t.” you manage to choke out before stumbling out the confessional booth, almost falling over your feet in front of sister olivia. your mind drowns out what she’s saying, for the better or worse. the burning in your chest leads you outside to be embraced in the arms of your damned lover. the warmth of leon engulfs you, your brain scrambles for the familiarity. you clutch onto him tightly as he’s the only thing keeping you from falling. “you’re alright, sweetheart.” he reassures, his words bathe you in serenity.
his comfort is medicine for the painful wound in your heart. a hazy halo casts around his head from your teary-eyed vision, you hiccup gibberish as his lips gently kiss your head. “you can try again in a few.” leon grins at you, eyes suffocating yours. his scent of coffee and honey is a warm blanket covering your trembling form. gently wiping at the tears flowing down your cheeks, leon looks at you as if you’re as delicate as the rosary he ripped away from you. “i’ll go with you, yeah?” you nod wearily at the proposition as you get into leon’s jeep.
for the past 96 hours, you are attached to leon’s hip like a parasite latched onto its host. the paranoia that is being alone without him constantly has you in a frantic state. too petrified that the lord will send you to hell without him. your father is probably damning your soul to hell for disobeying every rule he’s enforced. leon is safer to be with, to confide in, to speak to. with the ghost of a smirk that prominently rests on his lips, you can tell leon doesn’t mind.
the parking lot is covered in a lilac veil, the sun fading into a crescent moon. your eyes divert to the cross atop the church’s roof, to the few cars dispersing in the lot, and to your priest finally walking out the building. saturday night mass is over, all that’s left is leon and you. eyes flicker to meet his as the church bell loudly chimes. “i’m scared.” “you have me, angel.” leon faintly smiles, caressing the side of your face. your tooth could ache from how sweet leon is.
hastily making your way pass the large doors of the church, the fragrance of the incense burns your nose so much that you might just vomit. the once comforting scent now revolting. you grab a hold of leon’s hand when you approach the dark oak booth, body filling with dread. “you okay?” you can hear leon whisper, his hand soothing the lower half of your back. the faint shadows of blues and reds from the stained windows cover his face. the aesthetics of this cathedral cannot compare to him.
“can you come in with me?” a soft plead escapes your mouth. thinking it’s such a silly request as your priest is not around to hear your sins but it’s for the best that he doesn’t. you look back to the booth, beams of light along with a large cross carved carefully into its wood. the pit of your stomach is burning with anxiety, lightning striking down on you would be more comforting. the temperature of your body rises a little too high when you look towards leon whose lips are pulled into a smirk. you feel weaker, smaller under his gaze. a sheep tethered in sharp teeth. “of course, sweetheart.”
leon enters the booth before you, taking up the seat in the cramped space. his stare is locked on you when his legs spread open, practically inviting you to sit on him. you don’t break the stare while dragging your feet into the confined space, shutting the heavy door behind you. there’s an indescribable look swirling in leon’s eyes, that look muffles out all thoughts you have. it’s almost hypnotic like leon is purposefully trying to trap you. you can’t seem to pull yourself out of it.
leon hums lowly as you shyly shuffle your way towards him, fiddling with the purity ring that still rests on your finger. “is it okay if i sit on your lap?” the heat of your cheeks are so hot and red asking the question that leon only chuckles at you. “you’ve done worse.” your throat burns at the remark, there’s a lingering tinge in your chest from earlier that grows stronger as you are reminded that this is far from the worse thing you’ve done. leon grasps your wrist to pull you onto his lap, his hands find solace on your waist.
“go on, angel. confess to your god.” leon mutters against your exposed skin that peaks from your dress. butterflies faintly flutter around in your lower abdomen, a feeling you know all too well. its difficult to get your words out when leon begins to knead at your waist, for your comfort or his own purpose. you blur out the feeling as you close your eyes and put your hands in prayer. “forgive me, father, for i have committed the biggest sin of all!” you cry out, heart beating hard against your ribs.
“i have betrayed you, my lord. i gave into temptation and gave into lust. it was gluttonous of me. i’m sorry for betraying you, i know what i have done is terrible.” a cold touch on your bare thigh has you choke on your words, your teary eyes open to see leon bunching up your dress to caress your thighs. “leon?” you whimper, tears cascading down your dampen cheeks. “finish it.” leon demands, his voice raspy. you look over at him, there’s a faint glint in his eyes. the butterflies in your stomach multiply in twos and threes.
“i said, finish it.” leon warns as his hands spread you open, something he knows how to do very well. you close your eyes once again as a sudden rush to your body has the blood in your heart pump harder. “please forgive me, i beg so desperately for your forgiveness.” “pathetic.” there’s a soft rub of a finger on your clothed cunt. you swallow the moan that’s trying to force its way out of your parted lips. “please, leon.” you want him to stop but you can’t bring yourself to rip away from him. “tell em’ what you did.” leon scoffs, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.
lips quiver from the little ecstasy leon grants you. oh how infinitely doomed you must be for committing such lewd acts in this very temple. the sight could cause hysteria if anyone were to open the door right now. “i had premarital sex with my lover. i’m so sorry, my lord. i’m sorry for indulging and enjoying sin.” leon rubs your covered clit harshly, your body is burning. “i’m sorry for losing my virginity to a man that’s not my husband. i’m sorry for-” “getting your brains fucked out.” leon interrupts, there’s a quick smack to the skin of your thigh.
you don’t fully process leon pushing you off his lap just as you don’t realize how quick you are to get on your knees before him. leon roughly grabs at your face, squishing your cheeks as if you’re a child getting scolded. “no god will forgive you for being a dirty slut.” leon grits through his teeth, delivering pathetic slaps to your face. a buzzing in your head soon reaches your cunt with each hit. “apologizing for getting your pussy ripped open when i told you it was okay.” “i’m sorry, leon.” you muffle out a sob, knees burning against the aging wood.
“you’re so fucking pathetic.” leon roughly pushes you away, tears blur your vision as you cannot fathom the anger he’s bearing onto you. you had betrayed him, sobbing out your regret right in front of him. your heart is imprinting itself on your chest from the pounding, you cowardly crawl back towards him. “i’m sorry, leon! please forgive me.” your hands tremble to grab his, crying harder than before. “so damn whiny, i need to shut that fucking mouth.” leon unbuckles his belt in a haste, just like he did a few days prior.
leon’s hard cock hits his lower abdomen, you’re dazed at the sight. he says something muffled before grabbing your face and shoving his cock into your mouth, eliciting a muffled gasp from you. your jaw slacks so naturally that it’s hard to believe this is your first time doing this. the now restricted air burns the branches in your lungs like cigarette smoke. your tears cascade down to his exposed thigh, he fucks your throat as if you’re nothing yet everything.
“look at you, slobbering on that cock.” leon grunts, roughly snapping his hips into your face. you unknowingly moan around him, watching a smile creep onto his lips in response. his fingers are tangled in your hair, a sweet sting from the pulling has whimpers escaping your stuffed throat. “making me feel so good, should’ve done this earlier.” leon chuckles, eyes burning through you. your body fights to stay conscious as your oxygen is running terribly low yet you do not seem to mind it. passing out from giving your lover pleasure, what a heavenly way to go.
there’s a craving leon fills as he fucks your mouth, that craving you first had a few nights ago. always wanting more of him, yearning for that feeling he gives you when you reach pure euphoria. no matter how hard you’ve searched to find it in something else, you can not. no amount of bible studies or mass will ever fill your craving. it seems it only resides in leon, and how selfless will you be if you keep depriving yourself from it.
“nasty fucking girl.” leon sighs while freeing his cock from your warm mouth, slapping the tip against your puffy lips. your body is on fire, knees gushing out blood from the rough wood, but the way leon makes you feel is divine. you temporarily taste your salty tears before he shoves his fat cock back into your salivating mouth, throat burning as it gets stretched out. the sight of you would have you crucified in front of the church, so selfish and greedy that you have betrayed your heavenly father again in his own temple.
“doing such a good job, should fuck that pussy of yours.” you moan at the praise, looking up at him in admiration. leon’s face contorts in pure bliss as you hum around his cock, not noticing the crucifix above him shaking to a tilt. your cunt squeezes around nothing as you obediently take him. the feeling of your throat convulsing around leon has him moan out a symphony. “come here.” he pulls you off to sit you atop of his lap, back against his chest. your lips glisten in the candlelit cubicle of your own saliva, shining in the same way as when you drink the blood of christ.
you watch leon fully rip off your dove white panties to expose your drenched cunt. there’s a fuzziness in your brain, like a broken tv displaying static. “i’ll bring you salvation.” leon mutters while slapping the tip of his cock against your cunt. your fingers grip at the hand that’s around your throat when he teases your sopping hole, temporarily depriving you of your craving. “i’ll give you a holy body.” he whispers softly in your ear as he roughly shoves his fat cock into your cunt. hot tears blur your vision once more as leon answers your prayers.
the moans escaping your chest ricochets off the oak walls and straight back into your mouth. leon is fucking you so harshly that you can’t breathe without moaning. his cock abuses your poor cervix that you think you’ll faint if he keeps going. “there’s my pretty girl.” leon’s fingers messily rub your clit, your heartbeat becomes erratic. your eyes pry open to wearily watch as his cock disappears into your cunt, the sight making you dizzy. “got yourself so wet for me.” “god.” you blabber out with drool coating your mouth, too fucked out already, too gone.
there’s a pitiful slap to your rose tinted cheeks, it only makes the coil in your stomach tighten. “bet you missed this. all those tears and prayers will never save you from being a dirty little girl.” leon taunts while biting your neck, drawing the smallest trickle of blood. his tongue laps at your neck while your lungs are filled with fire as leon’s grip on your throat loosens just for a moment. his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot, your body is going numb from the euphoria. “i can save you, i’m all you need.”
the coil in your stomach seemingly snaps already, whether at leon’s words or his cock ruthlessly pounding your insides, you don’t know for sure. you’re gasping for air, body stupidly shaking at the strong rush of dopamine coming out of your cunt. “leon.” you whine loudly, clawing at his wrist as he doesn’t stop fucking your brains out. this feeling is so much stronger than the first time that the circuit of your brain seems to rewire itself, you’re completely and utterly broken.
“there you go, pretty. all over my cock just like that.” leon hooks his arms around your thighs, finally letting your throat breathe in the hot air. your brain is melted, the only thought you have is leon and his cock. tears stain your eyes as leon pounds deeper into you, not letting your body rest just yet. ears filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and your own moans. the candles mounted on the oak walls are extinguished, the image of your heavenly father above the doorframe views you with disgust.
“no god will ever make you feel this good.” leon grunts, voice raspy and heavy. “only you, leon.” you manage to say, breaking eye contact with the painting pitifully judging you as you lose yourself in leon. his cock hitting every single spot in repeated thrusts, stars are in your eyes at the indescribable feeling your body is currently drowning in. “only you, only you, only you.” you chant in a lust filled mantra, gripping at the oak walls as leon pounds your cunt harder.
“only me, huh? you’re so fucked.” leon muffles his chuckle into your shoulder, sliding a hand down to your cunt once again. you pathetically make an attempt to stop him from rubbing harsh circles into your clit, already overstimulated enough. “leon, don’t.” you sob as you feel the coil about to snap again. the plead falls on deaf ears, leon bites into your skin while rubbing messy circles on your clit. your cries are broken into scattered moans when leon roughly hits that sweet spot in your cunt, making the coil snap for the second time.
the wave of bliss has you speechless, throat releasing nothing but breathless moans. your body thrashes as the ecstasy you’re receiving is unreal. “such a good girl.” rings in your ears as you feel the hot essence of leon’s cum filling you to the point of fullness. he desperately rids himself of every drop, groaning into the nape of your neck. your throat burns as you moan faintly, like liquid to a sore throat. leon grabs your face to immediately kiss your bruised lips, grasping your limp body into a tight hold. the taste of blood falls onto your tongue, your blood.
“i’m all you need.” leon repeats onto your lips, staring into your eyes and straight through your soul. that familiar glint in his eyes has your heart beating haphazardly. you believe he is the only thing you ever need, your heavenly father will never give you such pleasure as leon does. your heavenly father will never be leon. you mindlessly nod, giddily smiling at leon before kissing his lips, relishing in your newfound faith.
you found god and he’s leon.
#leon kennedy x fem reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy smut#resident evil 4 smut#leon kennedy imagine#omfg how do i tag this!!!!
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A question of time (Astarion x fem! tav/reader) part 1/?
Summary: Cazador gets his hands on the daughter (tav) of the Elven goddess Sehanine and a common mortal, hoping to manipulate the girl over time and obtain the favor of her protection while he prepares for his Ascension, during which he plans to sacrifice her to gain more power than any devil could ever promise him.
Unfortunately, as the plans for his Ascension become more and more concrete, his ward is summoned every night by the sweet cries of the most tortured out of all his slaves, and she cannot bear to leave his side.
Meanwhile, it has become increasingly obvious to Astarion that his Master does in fact have a weakness, a certain someone he keeps locked away and safe... there is nothing Astarion wants more than to snuff that little light out of Cazador's eyes, no matter if it's the last thing he ever does.
tags and TW pre-bg3! Astarion, slave!Astarion, mentions of torture and abuse, demi-goddess!tav, Cazador being all sorts of creepy, eventual NSFW (minors stay away kindly, thank you darlings)
Part 2 here ! Part 3 Part 4
I'll take you under my wing,
Somebody should
-A Question of Time, Depeche Mode
Astarion had come to the conclusion that the excruciating torture Cazador imposed on him every night was becoming unbearable to the point he was now hallucinating.
It had happened three times now, always when he felt at his lowest. When he was so desperate and alone in his suffering, that he could only wish for someone to drag him out in the early dawn and leave him to burn alive, she would appear.
A clear figment of his imagination. A soul so ethereal yet warm, soft, and real. It made no sense for a creature like that to be down in the dungeons with the likes of him, her silk dress soaked from his own blood. Cazador was never really done with him until the entire floor was soaked in the thick red liquid.
Astarion had been afraid at first. He had never even seen her enter the room. She was just there, at his side. He'd made a feeble attempt to back away when she'd attempted to reach out for him. She had stopped herself in her tracks, and spoken to him softly. Astarion hadn't understood a word. He only knew this was another trick, another evil sent to punish him.
He'd passed out soon after.
The following night he'd realised he didn’t feel as weak as he usually did after a beating. He'd been healed. Somehow he'd even been granted a lavish pillow to rest his head on instead of the cold hard ground he was used to.
Alarmed, Astarion immediately did his best to hide it, using all of his strength to stuff the pillow behind a loose set of bricks in the walls of the dungeon. His master would not have been very forgiving if he thought one of his spawn had been stealing from him.
..☆..
A few weeks passed before the hallucination presented itself again.
It had been another terrible night and Cazador had decided Astarion needed to be sealed up in a coffin again.
Astarion cried like a babe. He begged his Master, promised to do anything for him, to give him anything he wanted. At some point he even attempted to convince Cazador to simply kill him once and for all. But it was no use, and soon he was sealed back into the darkness.
Astarion wondered how long he'd be left to rot this time. Another year? Two? What if this time Cazador simply... forgot about him? Left him to suffer his bloodlust and paranoia for all of eternity?
The world would move on, new cities would be built above his head and no one would be able to hear his cries—
Astarion almost jumped out of his bones in fear when the coffin was being opened up again. He was more than happy to take this little mercy from his Master in exchange of whatever other punishment he chose.
But it was not Cazador's face he ended up facing in the dark.
It was his angel, once again there to save him. Or more likely , as Astarion had been beginning to suspect, to lead him on to the next life.
This time he could see her more clearly. At first glance she might have been any other noble young lady from the city, the kind that had an array of suitors waiting outside her door. She looked like the type to make someone go mad from love or heartbreak, and Astarion was certain there were many out there already dedicating songs and sonnets to her beauty.
Yet her regal attire, while exquisite and fashionable, did not suit her. In fact, it seemed as if she were completely out of place wearing something so mundane. Something told him she wasn't exactly human, or elven for that matter. Her wide eyes were reading him like an open book, yet she did not say a word.
"Now, I don't know who you are..." Astarion warned, barely finding the strength to speak after an almost constant state of screaming and crying. "...or what you want with me... but I can tell you're not his. Because, if you were... you would know how dead we're both going to be when he catches you trying to get me out of here."
She attempted to speak, reaching out for a cut on Astarion's cheek. "You're —"
"You better get the fuck out of here, if you know what's good for you—" Astarion growled, snatching her wrist and squeezing it so tight, if she had been human it would have snapped in his hand like a twig. "And I trust you know how to board up this coffin again since you've been capable of roaming around a den of starving vampire spawn and making it out alive. Twice."
She gave out a wail of pain and Astarion finally let her go. He wasn't about to rot even longer than he had to in a coffin because of yet another reason that was completely out of his control.
The young woman stood there in front of him, undecided on what to do.
"I can't." She said, finally.
"But you will!" Astarion, roared, panicking about the very real possibility of Cazador assuming he'd managed to break out of his confinements himself. "By the hells! Put me back the way you found me and be on your way—"
"But you were crying—" She interjected.
"E-excuse you?" Astarion smiled uneasily, tilting his head to the side. What did this silly little girl think she knew about him?
"I heard you." The odd little thing in front of him answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You were calling out for help. You said, anything but the dark-"
Astarion's eyes burned with rage and hot tears. Suddenly he was stumbling out of the coffin, grabbing the woman by her frilly bloodstained clothes, and pinning her up against a wall. "You're here to doom me, is that it? You're some kind of faerie pulling a cruel joke on me, are you? Trying to give him even more excuses to hurt me. Is that it?" He panted frantically, straining his ears to pick up any signs of Cazador's return. "Here to feed on my suffering, are you?" Astarion attempted to grill answers out of her.
The supposed faerie did not seem concerned with the fact an unstable bloodthirsty creature currently had her trapped with no way of escape. She slowly reached for a huge gaping wound on Astarion's abdomen, and for a few moments he was transfixed by how quickly the flesh healed itself back together under his very eyes.
"I do not wish to bring you harm." She explained calmly. "I thought you would enjoy the freedom. He is away. And I promise to put you back as you were before his return."
Astarion shook his head and laughed maniacally. Freedom. His prayers had somehow been answered but he didn't trust the situation one bit. "Is that right, princess?" He taunted her. "And who just might you be to know the comings and goings of the Master of this house better than his own spawn?"
"He calls me his daughter."
..☆..
The revelation never left Astarion's head, even in the days that followed. Cazador... his heartless captor, his psychotic jailor, had a weakness. Initially, he'd thought about what it would have been like to take the life of Cazador's precious daughter right there and then, damned by the consequences.
But that would have been too easy. No, Astarion had finally stumbled upon something that gave him an edge over his Master, and his revenge was going to be carefully thought out. Sweet as can be.
Cazador had never mentioned his daughter to any of them so Astarion had no rules or commandments looming over his head. She was the perfect way to get revenge after almost two centuries of suffering. He just needed to be clever about it. He could not squander an opportunity like this.
The prospect of hurting Cazador made the torture much more barerable during the coming weeks. In fact, Astarion didn't know whether he was delirious or if all of that suffering was just feeding the fire burning inside of him more and more.
Once he'd been finally freed to go out and bring a new victim for Cazador to feast on, his plan he been set into action. Going out on a limb, Astarion assumed Cazador had tucked his daughter in the highest room of the tallest tower of his castle, where none could get to her and where she could never see the true horror of who her father truly was.
Under the cover of night, he scaled the side of the castle walls with nothing but some climbing tools and his own blessed agility. And as he did so, his mind was flooded with the same questions he'd been plagued with since the last night he'd seen the young woman. How was it possible that Cazdor had sired a daughter? What was the nature of her powers? They did not seem to have sliver of relation between them. And why, oh why, was she so determined to care for Astarion of all people?
Had Cazador set her on it? Was it all some sick game? Only one thing was for sure. Cazador had hidden the girl from everything and everyone, so at some fundamental level he must have cared for her.
That was all that mattered to Astarion. It was worth risking Cazador's eternal wrath just to see even a tiny sliver of pain in his eyes. A crack in his armor. And there was no doubt in his mind that would soon be true, just as soon as he found his daughter's lifeless body and her blood splattered all across the castle walls on his return.
"Are you stuck?" Her voice called out to him from her bedroom window as she looked down at him. Yes, Astarion had been slightly stalled by his thoughts. He looked up at her. Well, there went the element of surprise. He certainly was not planning on underestimating her. The girl had true power coursing through her veins.
Yet, he had not anticipated the scenario and now he was at a loss for words. A first for him. "No I was just, well I was—"
"Just close the window when you come up, okay? It's getting cold in here." She admonished him, before disappearing back inside. Astarion was a little taken aback. Had she known he was coming?
When he finally stepped into her chambers, he got a full understanding of just how capable Cazador was of spoiling and pampering someone he cared about. The room was lavish and spacious, almost every single item worth more than the average working person in Baldur's Gate could make in their entire lifetimes.
She was there, simply brushing her hair in front of the fireplace, almost completely uncaring about the fact a stranger had just invaded her private quarters.
Astarion let a dagger slip out of his sleeve, and only then did she turn around to look at him. He hated it, wishing he could have gotten the chance to kill her in her sleep or with a stab to the back, so he wouldn't have had to stare into those mesmerizing pools again.
"You won't hurt me, Astarion." She simply stated.
Astarion ground his teeth in anger. It really wasn't fair how perfect his name sounded on her tongue.
"I see his brat is not only spoiled, but entitled too. What makes you think you'll get out of this?" Astarion marched over towards her. "What makes you think your life will be spared against the countless others I've dragged to the grave in your father's name?" He snarled drawing his blade up to her perfect neck.
The sound of her pulse was enchanting and exhilarating at the same time. If he only could have, he would have gorged himself with her blood, sunk his teeth into her perfect flesh.
"Because... you're afraid the next time you call for help you'll be alone. For good." She answered honestly, seeing right through him as if he were made of glass.
The young woman had meant no offense, but Astarion took it nonetheless. In one swift move, he had a dagger to her throat, tears brimming in his eyes. He hated that she was right, but he was going to prove her wrong nonetheless.
"You think you're so smart, don't you love?" He sneered. "What? Were you so bored all couped up in your tower, you thought you could just have a little fun with one of your daddy's toys? That bastard's going to get what's coming to him—"
Suddenly, she was placing a hand over Astarion's mouth and cutting him off mid-speech. For the first time ever, Astarion saw the strange girl display concern in her features. No... it was genuine fear in her eyes.
"He's... he's down the hall." She whispered, more concerned with her father's arrival than the blade at her throat. Astarion dropped the weapon and froze, completely incapable of doing anything except await for his punishment in silence.
"What are you doing?" She fretted over him. "You need to leave!" The girl tried to put some sense into him but it was useless. Her attempts to drag him towards her closet were also fruitless.
Astarion was frozen, his eyes on the door and his ears keenly listening to Cazador's steps as they drew nearer.
___
AN: Let me know if you'd like part 2, comments are appreciated 🤧🥺
#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion fic#astarion smut#astarion angst#astarion fluff#bg3 astarion#bg3 x reader#bg3 x tav#bg3 x you#astarion x female reader#astarion x female tav#astarion x f!tav#astarion x f!reader
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Mario instinctively lifted a trembling arm before he even registered the embrace, powerless to resist the pull. And when Luigi tightened his hold, wordlessly inviting him to do the same, he found himself entirely unable to hold back any longer. It was then that the stupefying reality of it all finally hit Mario with full force, and he broke down crying as he gingerly engulfed Luigi in a tender hug.
-
There it is, folks. My last entry for the body swap concept I shared over the past few weeks. 🤲💝 This is a direct continuation of these two scenes that I wanted to explore through both illustration and text. I hope you've enjoyed this tangent! I will surely revisit it again at some point. ^-^
(Full scene below the cut 📝)
-oOo-
Mario stared, mouth agape, frozen in place.
He had been about to voice his surprise as he had looked up and spotted a second figure walking into view, but had fallen silent the second he had recognized who it was. Unable to finish his sentence. Unable to articulate a single word.
The man currently standing a short distance away from him appeared similarly struck, as if lost in a daze. His eyes were wide open and his stance unsteady, but his breathing was slow. Quiet. Calm, even. His hand slid from the rocky surface on which it was resting, and he shuffled his feet slightly as he stood a little straighter. A movement that Mario had seen a million times before and knew by heart. The detail was painful in its candid simplicity, the familiarity it emanated feeling both out of place and strangely grounding. The young man blinked, his shoulders dropping somewhat, and Mario noted that his expression wasn't one of horror or dismay.
It was one of solemn awe and sympathy.
Mario felt his jaw twitch and move feebly, but no sound came out. Distantly, he registered Princess Peach gently patting his neck in support, her touch warm and comforting. He could feel his eyes begin to sting as he swallowed, then resolutely tried again.
"L-Luigi?" He finally whispered, his voice wavering.
It didn't seem real.
Mario wasn't sure how long he had remained chained up in his cell, although the time he had spent imagining the worst scenarios imaginable had seemed to him like an eternity. The confinement and loneliness, he could handle. But no punishment or torture remotely equaled the threat that Bowser had dropped as he had turned to him, his human features distorted by an ugly and cruel sneer.
"If you do anything to try and get out of here, they're dead. That lovely Princess you're so enamored with? Dead. That miserable coward you call your brother? Also dead. I guarantee you I will kill them both, and I will make sure they thoroughly suffer to make you pay for it. Is that understood?"
Mario had already been heavily restrained at this point, faced with a squad of Bowser's best guards and Kamek hovering menacingly above them, wand in hand. But that didn't matter. He might as well have been alone with the tyrant, free and fully capable of defending himself; the dark promise would have halted him in his tracks all the same, paralyzing him with an identical wave of sickening dread.
He had only managed to give a single, haggard nod in response, and as soon as the malevolent king had departed with his troops, he had caved under the weight of his own despair. There, left alone to rot in the deepest dungeon of Bowser's fortress, he had spent many hours stagnating in emotional agony, overwhelmed by a crushing feeling of helpessness and guilt.
This was all his fault. He had fallen into his enemy's trap, and now his loved ones were in grave peril because of his foolishness. Worse yet, he couldn't protect or even warn them.
It was a nightmare come true, and the torment it had plagued him with ceaselessly had made it impossible for him to rest or think about anything else, exhausting him beyond his limits.
He was still reeling from the shock and astonishing surge of hope he had felt when the princess had entered his cell. To see her there, alive and well, reaching to offer him any form of reassurance she could despite his horrendous mistake and appearance had felt almost like an absurd dream in itself…
But to find Luigi there as well stunned Mario in a way that he couldn’t put into words even if he tried. To think of all that his little brother had braved for him - and still continued to brave, even now - was absolutely staggering.
Mario was vaguely aware of the sound of Peach's voice as she offered him a few hushed words of encouragement, but he could barely hear her. His mind felt as though it was wrapped in a thick layer of wool, fuzzy and packed. The prickling sensation at the corner of his eyes intensified, making his vision blurry and unfocused.
Luigi took a tentative step forward, then another. He was being cautious, his movements measured and small. Something in his demeanor told Mario that he wasn't doing this out of unease, or to mentally steel himself, but for another reason entirely. He was observing him attentively, trying to gauge his reaction, and it was suddenly clear that Luigi was being careful for his sake instead of his own.
The pressure at the back of Mario's throat became all at once suffocating, and he made a choked noise as he tried to press himself further against the wall he had backed into, hiding his beastly face in his hands.
"Per favore… Non avvicinarti di più", he whimpered brokenly, vainly trying to conceal himself from view.
He didn't understand how Luigi could remotely find it in himself to look at him, and less even approach him. His little brother had always been frightened of fierce creatures. Mario recalled many nights where he had held Luigi close when they were young, assuring him that no monster would ever come near him. What good could he accomplish now? In a cruel twist of fate, he was stuck as the one thing he had vowed to protect Luigi from, and there was nothing he could do to change his predicament.
He couldn’t handle the mere thought of his brother staring at him with terror in his eyes. He just couldn't. It would be too much for him to bear.
"N-non ti v-voglio spaventare", he stuttered weakly, amidst the ragged breaths shaking his entire form.
There was no audible response to his plea, and for a few harrowing seconds, Mario believed he was alone once more. Wondering, despite himself, whether he had wished so dearly to see Luigi and Peach again that he briefly managed to persuade himself that they were indeed there with him. But then, he heard a faint sigh, and was deeply startled when two very small hands took hold of his own, gently prying them away. The contact was meek but insistent, and Mario found that he didn't have the resolve nor the willpower to fight it. Gradually, his clawed paws were withdrawn from his face as he heaved and shuddered, his eyes still shut tight in mortifcation.
He couldn’t move, could hardly even breathe. He was petrified.
"Ciò non potrebbe mai accadere…"
With a start, Mario gasped and looked down to see Luigi fondly shaking his head. He was smiling, albeit in a pained and wobbly manner, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. His gloved fingers went to cup the underside of his jaw, grazing the scaly area in a gesture completely devoid of hesitation, and with seldom seen certainty, he serenely held his gaze.
"…caro fratellone," he added in a fragile murmur, before leaning forward and past his snout.
Mario instinctively lifted a trembling arm before he even registered the embrace, powerless to resist the pull. And when Luigi tightened his hold, worldlessly inviting him to do the same, he found himself entirely unable to hold back any longer. It was then that the stupefying reality of it all finally hit Mario with full force, and he broke down crying as he gingerly engulfed Luigi in a tender hug.
"Sei qui! Sei davvero qui!" He repeated like a mantra, sobbing profusely.
"Io sono qui," Luigi returned, his kind voice muffled against his neck. "Non vado da nessuna parte."
Never had Luigi been the one to comfort a scared and distraught Mario before, but in this exact moment, nothing felt more right. They both needed this, they knew, and for more reasons than one.
Standing respectfully off to the side, Peach looked on as Luigi whispered something else in Italian, causing both brothers to huff in incredulous mirth. She watched as Mario ever so gently angled his head downwards, ruffling Luigi’s hair with his cheek as he lightly stroked his back. And as she did, it occurred to her with stark clarity that they were really - and truly - two halves of a whole. Separating them seemed as awful and unnatural a thought as a world existing without either night or day. It was simply inconceivable.
Walking out from the shadowed spot where he had quietly observed the whole exchange, Junior wandered closer and stopped a few timid steps away from the princess, his gaze riveted on his feet.
"I understand, now," he mumbled dejectedly.
Peach turned to the young prince, giving him a soft and curious look. Before she could inquire about his statement, he feebly kicked at the dust and joined his hands behind his back, purposely averting his eyes still.
"I understand why this was so important to him," he elaborated, designating Luigi with a slight jerk of his chin. "Why he did all of that, and why he wouldn't back down. I didn't know they were so…"
He trailed off as he looked at the bros, a glimmer of wistfulness and empathy shimmering in his eyes.
"Inseparable?" Peach supplied for him, knowingly.
He nodded, his outwardly nonchalant demeanor however made less than convincing by his troubled frown.
"Do you… Do you think there's a chance Mario will still want to be my friend?" He eventually asked, his voice plaintive and small.
Peach blinked at him in mild shock, and with a compassionate smile, she bent down to his level.
"You have reunited him with his brother," she reminded him, emphasizing the sheer significance of that fact through her tone. When he tried dismissing it with a rueful shrug, she laid a hand on his shoulder and waited for him to look at her. "You did a wonderful thing, and we're all very grateful for it. Mario loves you very much no matter what. He'll want to thank you himself, no doubt."
Though he tried not to let it show, Junior was visibly elated and relieved by her response. He rocked on his heels with a boyish grin, looking proud and hopeful for the first time that day, and Peach found that his enthusiasm was contagious. With a pleased hum, she smoothed out her dress and motioned for him to follow her just as Mario and Luigi finally parted.
They didn't know how they would solve this issue, and if they were all honest with themselves, they were also very apprehensive about what was yet to come. But something had changed. They no longer felt defeated, lost or isolated. Where there had previously been nothing but fear and sadness, there was now love and support. A newfound assurance and sense of security. A powerful warmth that helped soothe the pain.
They were all together again, and this already felt like a victory in itself.
-oOo-
#Mario#Luigi#Princess Peach#Junior#Bowser Jr#Body swap#personal concept#family#comfort#love and support#brotherly bond#feels#hurt/comfort#reassurance#story#drabble#fanart#super mario bros
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Remembering MC - Obey Me
What if while MC is in the past changing history and being a major part of their freshly-fallen lives, the present boys start to recall that?
Not everything, still mostly forgotten from happening so long ago, but while the boys are frantic trying to find any way to get you back or where you even went, worried and miserable, maybe they start thinking about all the good times they had with you.
From when they met you, to everything that has happened since. But something...there's something else they're almost remembering. Like an itch about you, then it's faded memories that don't seem right.
Too old, they can barely remember, in a time they all wished to forget. But suddenly, you were there. To help them, to comfort them,
Surely it's Mammon who gets this first. He hasn't stopped thinking about you for a second, crying on your bed and wishing you would hold him again.
He remembers you in the beginning.
He races to Lucifer, tear streaks still on his face and yelling that you were there, his words are jumbled but you weren't there, you couldn't be. But he swears you were.
He's brushed aside, everyone is trying their best and brokenhearted and now Mammon has started creating his own ridiculous memories to see you just a little more.
Then the others start having it. While they tried their hardest to forget the fall, the suffering when they reached the Devildom, memories that you created with them aren't like that.
They didn't spend thousands of years trying to ignore and forget that, and suddenly Mammon doesn't seem so crazy.
Lucifer tries to deny it at first, but he has the best memory and as thoughts of long past suffering fade and there's a clarity that now includes you-
Sure not even he can remember all that happened, that you've now changed. But he knows you; he aches to feel you activate his pact, for his soul to reach yours.
And he breaks down. Locked away at his desk with his head in his hands he cries.
He wants your back. They all do, losing you is something he doesn't believe they could all come back from. Eternal punishment would be losing their MC for good.
But somehow you're stuck in the past, and even after all you've already done for them, fixing their family and helping each and every brother, accepting their love and requests for more- and he laughs while tears drip down his face.
Because of course- of course when faced with them in the past, broken and lost and what they all would have considered their lowest points- you're doing your best to help them once again.
#Obey Me x reader#Obey Me imagine#omswd xreader#omswd imagine#omswd x reader#Nightbringer x reader#Nightbringer imagine#Obey Me Lucifer#Obey Me Mammon#my stuff
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Aziraphale’s religious trauma
I’m sure others have discussed this in a lot of depth, but I can’t help throwing my hat in the ring. Aziraphale has major religious trauma after spending his entire very long existence as a member of a cult. If you’ve never experienced what it’s like to be indoctrinated into a religion, then it might be very hard to understand why he behaves the way he does, so I’ll try to lay it out for you.
Anyone who was raised from early childhood to believe that an all-powerful being is watching them as though they’re in a panopticon (a jail where prisoners are watched by authorities at random moments) and will severely punish them and/or their loved ones if anyone steps out of line (or just on a whim or based on a bet with Satan) either has experienced religious trauma or has somehow avoided it, perhaps through repression or retreating into themselves and managing to ignore what the adults were telling them. Another way to avoid the trauma is to continue to believe that the cult is ‘good’ and that those outside it are ‘bad’ and should seek redemption, forgiveness and salvation.
Not only does Aziraphale have this trauma, but it’s also based on reality in the GO universe. I was able to live with mine by realising that there is no empirical evidence for religious beliefs, by studying philosophy, by having therapy, and by reflecting on it for years. The trauma can still be triggered in me, leading to panic that God might be watching and judging me, and that an afterlife might exist, but luckily I’m now able to move through the panic relatively quickly. Aziraphale can’t do any of this because the beliefs of his cult are all too real. There really is a massively powerful (hopefully not all-powerful, but he believes she is) being who watches and judges him and everyone else at random moments. She has either directly ordered her angels to slaughter babies and children or has stood by and watched them do it. She has severely punished someone Aziraphale cares about, Crowley, who from that moment has been in a situation where he continues to be tortured by his fellow demons with no intervention from God and who simultaneously risks being destroyed by demons, by angels, by humans wielding sacred weapons (e.g. holy water) or by his own hand.
And so Aziraphale suffers from both religious trauma and the trauma of living under a real authoritarian dictatorship. This dictatorship is seemingly unbeatable and eternal, and it possesses weapons more powerful than the biggest nuclear weapons, more powerful than the sun, really more powerful than anything we humans can imagine.
Thousands of years ago, Crowley was kicked out in an extremely painful way, and he suffers his own trauma from that. He clearly doesn’t want Aziraphale to go through all of that, yet he wants Aziraphale to join him on ‘their own side’. At the end of the previous season, I thought Aziraphale was all in. I was happy to leave it at that ... even though it isn’t a realistic depiction of someone dealing with the particular types of trauma that Aziraphale has experienced and continues to experience.
Aziraphale and Crowley are still in constant grave danger, and they’re still living in God’s panopticon. That can’t just be hand-waved away. As we’ve seen this season, at any moment their fragile peace can be disrupted by a situation that puts them in danger of being harmed to the extent of being wiped from existence. They can’t actually just go to Alpha Centauri and it will all be cool. (And what would they do there for eternity anyway ...?) But yeah there is no way to escape from God, nowhere in the universe that God isn’t capable of supervising -- that’s real, not something Aziraphale merely has faith in, as humans understand belief in God. Aziraphale isn’t the equivalent of a human priest or a theologian or a cult member: he is a supernatural being created by a much more powerful supernatural being.
Perhaps there are only two ways for Aziraphale to deal with his trauma: 1) He realises that God and the Heavenly Host can be defeated. 2) He realises that they can be permanently altered in a positive way.
At the end of season two, Aziraphale seems to believe he is being given the opportunity to bring about option 2. We don’t know if he has a plan or a vision for this, but for the first time he thinks he has a chance. Perhaps best of all, he has the opportunity to protect Crowley -- permanently! Imagine how anxious Aziraphale must have been, for thousands of years, that Crowley would be destroyed. It could have happened at any time, near or far from Aziraphale. Crowley faces dangers on all sides and also does foolish (from Aziraphale’s perspective) things like good deeds under the influence of laudanum and a heist so he can handle holy water. Crowley breaks and bends rules in ways that could kill him: Aziraphale isn’t catastrophising. This isn’t the same as a religious loved one telling you that you’re going to hell for sinning. Crowley has already been tortured in hell, and he could be tortured there forever, or he could be turned into an oily black puddle, or removed from the book of life etc etc.
What Aziraphale doesn’t understand yet is that Crowley can’t be an angel again and still be the Crowley that Aziraphale loves. He also doesn’t see Crowley as an equal. If they’re going to take on heaven and bring down God’s dictatorship, they are going to have to do it as Aziraphale and Crowley, working in partnership, wielding the immense power of their love.
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MY PUNISHMENT, AN ETERNITY WITHOUT YOU--GETO. S
synopsis: you were never there for suguru, and he isn't scared of saying it to you.
c.w: gn! reader, angst, hurt/no comfort, reader is a terrible friend, insinuations on suguru and reader possibly liking each other, suguru feels terribly left out, confronation, there is a dialogue here from an old movie so that's where the inspiration came from!
word count: 1,1k
note: very quick drabble before I head to bed. sorry for choosing violence so late at night.
Everything happens for a reason. What a lame way to comfort yourself through the horrifying realization that you’ve been betrayed by one of the closest people to your heart. You stand in front of Yaga and Satoru with a broken heart and a body that is so cold you could be mistaken for a corpse and you breathe in—you try to inhale through what you’ve been told.
“Suguru killed those people, he also killed his parents and—“
Enough. You’ve heard more than enough for today. You squeeze your eyes shut and your hands find your face, covering it whole. You’re not sure what the gesture is supposed to do, you believe that you simply did not want to see the people that have delivered those news for you and it’s a little unfair to them. But then again, if they hadn’t known how poorly you’d handle it, why’d they look so apologetic when they asked you to wait for them outside of the classroom? They knew how you’d feel and they still went through with it.
You don’t realize that a week had passed since the incident with Suguru until you’re receiving a text Shoko and Satoru telling you about his whereabouts, and you don’t think you’ve ever ran so fast in your life just to see a person—to see him, for what felt like it was going to be the last time in a while.
Suguru stands in front of a flower shop owned by an elderly couple and his face seems to be empty of any emotion as he stares at the many flowers displayed by the old woman tending to her plants. Yet his eyes seem to be fixated on a specific flower—a bouquet of pink Cyclamens that looked as though it was freshly picked and put together, placed neatly on the tiny green table outside of the shop. His hand reaches down towards it and traces the pink wrapping paper with the same fingers that once held your chin as he tended to your wounds after missions.
“Suguru,” you sound out of breath, your hands are trembling and you feel as though you’re about to faint very soon. “What are you doing?” A part of you hopes that Suguru comes up with a good answer, something that justifies what he’s done, what he is about to do now that he has the entire Jujutsu society turning against him. You want answers, you want to be comforted by this abrupt and sudden decision of his. But when he stands there silently, doesn’t even bother to look up from the bouquet he seemingly bought prior to your arrival, your heart sinks. So, you ask again.
“Sugu-“ your throat closes up and you can’t muster up the courage to pronounce his name properly. “Answer me.”
“What do you think I’m doing, hm?” the nonchalance in his voice feels like a dozen of needles poking through your skin, each one injecting you with a different poison and only Suguru’s warmth can heal you.
“You lied to me, you deceived me.” You say quietly and when you hear his chuckle—the first sign of emotion in very long, your heart sinks to your stomach. Why does he find this amusing? It shouldn’t be funny, you were seriously suffering and he was being so… different.
“I’ve deceived you?” he finally looks up and it’s so difficult not to run away and hide when he was eyeing you so dangerously, daring you to repeat what you have just said.
“You’ve deceived me,” he continues and approaches you with the bouquet in hand.
“I am tired of trying to listen to you—“
“You have never listened, you never tried to listen,” he presses on every word and his looming figure towers over you with so much ease. You cower under his gaze, try to stutter a few words out and the confusion evident on your face irks Suguru even more.
“I did try to listen! What are you-“
“Then where were you when I needed you?” he tilts his head to the side, and the action is mocking as he lets out a pensive hum. “On missions… with Satoru… out with Shoko smoking—that’s right, I stopped being fun to hang out with, didn’t I?”
“You stopped needing me because I stopped being useful.” He spits it out like venom and your blood runs cold. You try to blink the tears coating your lashes and back away from him.
“That is not true,” the whimper that escapes your lips is pathetic, but it does nothing to the tall man standing in front of you.
“Then where were you when I needed you?” he asks again, and he knows that you don’t have an answer—or it was simply clear that Suguru wasn’t worth the additional baggage on your shoulders. You never wanted to be there for him as simple as that. Your friendship with him was only fun when he was the sweet, soft and flirty Suguru. Hanging out with him was only fun because he paid for the food and pushed you on the swing, it stopped being fun when his thoughts got darker and it was harder for him to smile when you apologized for the umpteenth time because you forgot to check on him.
Suguru simply had enough.
“You gave me your heart, you know?” The taller male suddenly speaks up after a minute of awkward and painful silence and your head shoots up. “You’d like me to hand it back whole, but I won’t.” He takes a step closer and strangely, you don’t flinch nor move away.
“You live a long life, an eternity without me. You will look at the faces of passersby hoping for something that will bring me back to you, you will find stargazing on the rooftop and summer nights strangely empty—your heart will long for something, anything that would make calling out for my name worth it and would somehow bring me back.” Suguru is seemingly calm through it all, like the sight of the fat tears cascading your cheeks doesn’t move him and for the first time ever—it truly doesn’t reach his heart, and doesn’t try to pull at its strings.
“Your heart will always ache for me, and your mind will give you the doubtful consolation that this—“ he points at the both of you, referring to you confronting him. “Was the brave thing to do.”
And through gritted teeth, you manage to find your voice again.
“You dare talk about bravery?”
“What else do we have to talk about, hm?”
—in case anyone needed to know, “Cyclamen flowers can also represent love, affection, and admiration. They are sometimes used to display affection and romantic feelings towards someone.”
do with that whatever you want.
2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.
#moon's works#geto suguru#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#geto x reader#geto angst#jjk angst#geto x you#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu geto#jujutsu kaisen geto#jjk getou#suguru geto#geto x y/n#geto suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you
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Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 1
Summary: You failed as the Prototype's "archangel," and this is your punishment; being left to die while at the mercy of your enemies.
(This is my contribution to the Smiling Critters Space Riders Au. Please check out the talented @onyxonline for more context. I hope y'all enjoy.)
TW: Blood, Injury, Near Death, Imprisonment, Trauma, Death Implications, War, Witchcraft, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Religious Worship, Slight cursing
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You had one job: lead your people to victory. You are a warrior, a healer, a messenger. You are an archangel that needs to spread the word of the Prototype by any means necessary. You need to do your part to save the souls tainted by the condemned ways of the heretics. That’s why you’re here in the first place. Instead, you failed…
It's hard to say how long your mind has been hazy for. All you know is that it burns so much. Fiery hot and raging cold sensations dance and mingle around your body especially where blood was pouring out. The feeling of liquid invading and burning your lungs worsens the more you try to gasp for air. Flashes of light won’t stop assaulting your eyes even as spots of darkness slowing dance their way into your vision. As you close your eyes and try to ignore the sharp tingling in your eyes, one thought stands out among the rest.
‘So, this is what damnation feels like…’
A blurry orange figure looms above you followed by a red and a blue one. They shield you from the harsh light, prompting you to slightly open your eyes. More figures loom around you. All the sounds echoing around you are drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. You suppose that this is a fitting punishment. You failed your people, yourself, and the Prototype. And now they have come to take you away, to give you your just deserved judgement. The thought alone is enough to make you whimper as your body curls around itself protectively. You try so hard to ignore the inferno now growing where your wounds are. This proves to be futile as hands pin you down, preventing you from curling in on yourself. The sounds grow more urgent, louder even. You couldn’t resist their grips anyways. You should’ve known it was futile to fight the inevitable. As blackness conquers the last of your vision, you pray that you will be granted mercy. You pray that your sins will be forgiven. You pray that your dedication to your duties will lead you to the happiness you have been promised. You pray that you have done enough to grant you eternal happiness. And you pray that you will continue to do good in the next life you are given…
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The team has been waiting outside the operation room for hours. Bubba and Bobby wasted no time getting you into operation considering your critical condition. Dogday has been pacing nonstop since getting you onto their ship. He was the one who insisted on taking you with them despite the protests from his teammates. Memories, emotions, and questions spiraled around and around his head, never giving him a second to rest. You’ve caused a lot of damage to not only his team but other parts of the galaxy. Dogday, however, being the sunny, kind-hearted leader he is will be damned if he just left another victim of the Prototype to die. Given the state of your injuries, unfortunately, the chances of your surviving in the long run are slim to none. That was stated by Bubba himself. Regardless, they still had to try, at least.
The canine knew that part of it was wishful thinking from Bubba and a couple others. Dogday can’t say he blames them for disliking the idea of helping one of the Space Riders’ most dangerous enemies. Leaving you to suffer the consequences of your actions means one less enemy to worry about. No one knows how or why you became the Prototype’s archangel apart from your Divinity powers. And maybe Catnap is right about the fact that Dogday’s heart is too forgiving for his own good. It’s just that that thought of leaving you, lying down, alone, and bleeding on the battlefield doesn’t sit right with him. That is not what the Space Riders is supposed to represent. They’re meant to give victims of the Prototype a second chance at life.
If you survive… maybe he and his friends could give you that chance. He hopes, at least. You could help a lot of people and use your powers for good. The riders could have a powerful friend and ally by their side. You could protect them like how you always protected your troops and the Prototype in past battles. You could have people to turn to and not leave you to die alone in the battle the moment things spiral downhill.
Dogday isn’t entirely naïve, though. Even if you survive, and you do agree to change your ways, there will be a lot of obstacles in your path. The obvious one was getting backlash from the Commander and members of HQ. The riders would have to disclose that they are hospitalizing one the most wanted enemies in the galaxy sooner or later. Given everything you’ve done, people are going to demand justice. Some will want to draw blood in the name of vengeance. Dogday would rather not risk that possibility. Maybe he and Bubba could find a way to convince the Commander and the Council to let you serve your sentence here under the riders’ supervision while you are being treated.
Time was passing so agonizingly slowly compared to Dogday’s thoughts. He wishes he could get some news on your condition now. At the very least, a slow update would suffice. Anything would do to finally put his aching head to rest. As if the heavens finally decided to answer him, the doors finally opened. Everyone, asleep or otherwise perks up hearing Bobby approaching. Her eyes droop, but her small, satisfied smile told everyone what they needed to know. Dogday breathes out a sigh of relief. You still need to be monitored for the time being. The surgery may have been successful, but that doesn’t mean it will be a guaranteed smooth sailing recovery. There are still a lot of risks that need to be accounted for at this time. The Space Riders rescued you in time, and that thought is enough to finally put the canine’s whirlwind of thoughts to rest. Dogday can now focus on the next priority; figuring out a way to disclose the recent events to the people of HQ.
#smiling critters#dogday#poppy playtime#poppy playtime 3#poppy playtime chapter 3#poppy playtime dogday#poppy playtime smiling critters#poppy playtime catnap#catnap#poppy playtime au#space riders au#smiling critters au#onyxriders#hoppy hopscotch#picky piggy#craftycorn#bobby bearhug#bubba bubbaphant#kickinchicken#platonic#x reader#poppy playtime x reader#gn reader#reader insert#gender neutral reader#angst#hurt/comfort#recovery#platonic relationships#platonic love
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how about 8 with Gun Park?
8. They’re insatiable (tw; multiple orgasms) and that’s a fact unless he’s interrupted by work
You body was overstimulated, overworked, trembling and aching from the amount of times you have came from Gun’s tongue, fingers, or his cock. He just won’t stop until he thinks you’ve had enough, he’s a sadist asshole who just loves hearing your cries and screams.
“Please, please!”
Oh my how your begs were his favorite. How you plead for mercy with that pretty little voice, how his hand can only caress your skin and you twitch underneath his touch. It just makes him crave more of you, he can’t help it… It’s not his fault that your high pitched voice gets him driving wild. “You can go one more round, babe. Just one more.” Ugh, you already went through 12 rounds! You’re not sure if you can go another time… But you’ll try at least.
With a finger lightly touching your pulsating clit, your lower body backs away with very little movement as a reflex.
You hear a mean chuckle from Gun, “What’s wrong? Hm?” His voice stayed low, dripping with taunting condescension. His finger tickled your sensitive spot again, finally slipping his digits into your aching entrance. Using his thumb pad to circle the shape of your hole while his index and middle fingers dig painfully slow. Just listening to the lewd slick despite how many times you’ve came.
“Fuuck look at you. So wet for me no matter how many times I make you sore.”
Your inner thighs can’t take this sensation anymore, all you could do is whine non stop almost begging him to go faster without any words. But he takes his sweet time to finger you in a mean slow motion, just loving the soft gushy noises that fills his ears and send him to a whole other arousal. What felt like an eternity later, he finally found a faster rhythm, the same thumb that was teasing you was pressed on the top of your pounding clit.
Slowly removing his fingers out of your gushing hole, it leaves you in a melting mess of tears and pleads. “You’re so pathetic, baby.” His lips say moments before you feel them along with his tongue wiggling on the areas that need attention the most. From how needy your body is, you scream out loud trying not to shift your body too much. His face buried in between your thighs giving every inch attention with his mouth.
The soft nibbling at the middle of the clit really does it for you, when it’s too late, Gun can taste the sudden burst of unstopping substance on his tongue. A hand swiftly slaps your soaked clit while you were still in the middle of your unintentional release. You couldn’t help it! You tried to hold it in, your body wouldn’t listen, too much into the feeling of the pain and pleasure, the edging was too much to bear.
Now with your tensing up thighs and your cries of heavenly bliss, you knew you would suffer the consequences once you came back to your senses.
You caught eyes with your boyfriend in a blurry vision from your tears. He looked unimpressed and agitated by the fact that you were being so good and then you just had to cum without his permission.
“You know what happens next, (y/n)… Bend over. It’s time for your punishment. Oh and just for that, I’ll keep going all night and I won’t let you cum at all.”
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Currently thinking abt Jingliu’s story quest, spoiler’s ahead beware —
I’m thinking about how much of an impact Jingliu’s torture had on Blade and how fucking devastated Jingliu must’ve been to go through with it. I’m thinking about how Yingxing must’ve still been reeling from the new effects of the abundance and his possible regret and grief for ending up as the very thing he hated and swore to fight against—
I’m thinking about the way Jingliu must have chased him down after hearing or- or seeing and experiencing them attempt that resurrection and feeling utterly betrayed by two of her closest friends— two people who were supposed to be Baiheng’s closest friends— (How could they do that, how could they do that, how could they do that?!) —and swinging her sword, the Shard Sword (the one he made— the one he gave to her), at him mindlessly and hurt, with the intent to make Yingxing feel the same way.
I’m thinking about how Yingxing must’ve first felt when he died — the first taste of nothingness to cleanse him of the utter agony of devastation and grief, and then the horrible feeling of everything when he was resurrected again. I think about the way Yingxing, so open and honest, feeling so deeply, must’ve ley out a sob when his chest began to heave again. I think about the way Jingliu must’ve watched with tears of frustration and agony shining in her own eyes. (You did this to yourself. I failed by not stopping you but you and Yinyue-jun were the ones who disgraced her memory first — you have no right to cry like that!)
I think about the way Jingliu must’ve made a conscious effort to destroy his hands— his pride and joy, the ones that made the Shard Sword she turned against its creator. I imagine her throwing it on the ground after the first— or one of the first few of his many deaths, telling him to “Rise” and “Stand” to face her, forcing him to fight over and over again living over a hundred deaths as punishment for what he did.
I think about the way ‘Yingxing’ must’ve slowly died in this process of hours or days of endless torture and punishment with his heart as an artist splayed out and destroyed, flesh bared and heart unbeating as the artist in his mind marvels at the beauty and fantastical agony that became his existence until he no longer thinks; mind rewritten with Jingliu’s preachings of “The three who must pay the price.” and her merciless sword techniques and lessons. I think of how Yingxing, the existence that he was, had truly been killed and warped in all the suffering Jingliu imparted on him — and I wonder how they could ever mend that bridge again.
I think about Jingliu stopping only after the hundredth death as now Blade stands on steady feet with muscle memory from the past nth deaths until Jingliu turns her back with her final lesson and parting words; satisfied, but not fulfilled, by the way she’s carved her presence and regrets into Blade’s mind and body irreversibly. I think about the way she spared ‘mercy’ to him by leaving him astray and to escape the Xianzhou and Luofu. I think about the effort it must’ve taken Blade to chose aimless wandering over eternal sentence… or maybe that too had been Jingliu’s choice.
I think about Jingliu, walking away with nothing but white noise and mara screams, echos of the past, filling her mind until her body gives out from restless days of fighting Blade, forcing onto him the punishment she so strongly believed he deserved — because she couldn’t rest until the lesson had finally set in, what kind of teacher would she have been if she had? I’m thinking about the way her body collapses to the ground like a puppet cut from its strings with no one to catch her and no one to see her at her weakest as she mourns for everything they once had but can never have again because of what they did. Because of what all of them have become.
And finally, I think about the reports that must eventually reach Jing Yuan at the divine seat of foresight. I think about the way he must feel; knowing one of his friends is irreversibly dead and the other three have torn each other apart in that grief. I think about how destroyed he must be, choosing between his duty and his lovers— but finding all too much fault in the choices they made and the suffering they have caused. I think about the decisions he would have to make and the punishment he’d have to invoke on Dan Feng becoming Dan Heng in spite of his emotions, because he is the last one left. And if no one else can remain on the Luofu then he must be the one to carry their memories.
I think that the High Cloud Quintet are irreversibly scarred by themselves and by each other, and I wonder how they’ll ever be able to mend things.
#hsr#honkai star rail#hsr rambles#honkai star rail fanfic#jingliu#jing liu#hsr jingliu#hsr jing yuan#hsr blade#hsr ren#hsr dan heng#high cloud quintet#xianzhou luofu#jingheng#jingren#jingrenheng#implied renheng#lost rambles#rambles#hsr spoilers
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I have so many scattered thoughts re: Blade, Jingliu, and Dan Heng and the entirety of the HCQ after Clouds Leave No Trace
This is gonna probably be long as hell since I haven’t stopped thinking abt it for two days straight and will contain spoilers for the new HCQ quest in 1.4 as well as references to other leaks, this is mostly just a jumble of a bunch of theories and ramblings to get my thoughts out, some of which I already had and others that started to jump out during the quest. obv other ppl may have come up with similar conclusions and i obv might not be right myself but based on the narrative presented to us up until now, these are what I feel make the most sense. TLDR at the end.
Dan Heng vs “running away”
I find it fascinating, and frankly disingenuous, that that both Jingliu and Blade consistently frame DH’s explanations of no longer being Dan Feng and only containing fragments of his memories as "trying to run from his past". I’ve also seen some in the fandom claim that DH’s position on the matter shouldn’t be trusted as he’s an “unreliable narrator”, which could be true, but it’s a stance I disagree with as it goes against the structure of DH’s narrative as it’s been set up since the beginning of the game.
From day one until the present, Dan Heng is shown to be fully willing to atone for the sins of his past:
The moment he was allowed to move freely aboard the Luofu after having quietly accepted exile for crimes he shouldn’t have had to pay for, he decided of his own volition to seek out the current high elder and make amends with both the Xianzhou and his past in general, even when doing so made him a target for even more suffering:
Narratively speaking, he never once backs away from the punishment considered owed to Dan Feng's actions.
Dan Heng, the result of a forced rebirth process that was then manipulated to leave him with combat prowess and broken memories he neither wanted or should have possessed to begin with, was escorted away from the only homeland he knew, after being held in prison for crimes he legally should not have been judged by from the moment of his birth, with only the few possessions his previous incarnation had possessed, forced to jump from spaceship to spaceship without even recognizing the destination. The only reason he ever ran at all is due to the ages spent fighting for his life against an enemy he didn't recognize and never truly recognized him, one that refused to die no matter how many times they fought. One who caused unmatched destruction in his hunt for Dan Heng, fully willing to destroy anyone and anything in the way of his goal— a shadow of his past:
This is why personally (emphasis on personally) I believe that the longing in question from the leak regarding Dan Heng polishing his spear is in reference to the Luofu, as to me, it makes sense that he would long for and think of the homeland he never got to witness thoroughly with his own eyes and could only experience in books while caring for the weapon he uses to keep himself and others safe from the force of destruction that trails him:
In fact, it isn't until after Dan Heng joins the Astral Express that he begins to fight back against the assertion that he must eternally suffer for the past; this is because this is when he finally has something other than himself to protect. We are directly shown this in his animated short, when the memory of the other members of the Express crew serve as the motivation to spur Dan Heng out of the internal conflict he was drowning in, and also as his prime reason for going to meet with the others in the HCQ aboard the Luofu:
This is likely possible largely due both to the fact that Vidyadhara cannot succumb to mara, as well as the fact that he doesn't have the same specific memories as the others, and so he is not shackled to the same chains that now bind Blade and Jingliu.
———
Blade and Jingliu
In Blade’s youth, Jingliu describes him as someone who was “defiant” in a way she claimed not to like. I find this fascinating given that the two are so incredibly similar at present, which I feel is due in part to Blade’s unwavering respect for her even after the pain she caused him, both because of who she is as the former Sword Champion and the amount of Abundance abominations she alone had been able to slay, as well as the pain she inflicted giving him new purpose, a choice to give him a “second chance” despite at one point having wished to leave him to his misery as a fate worse than death, as described in her character story.
Both Blade and Jingliu experienced great suffering in their childhoods
Blade's swordsmanship ability comes directly from Jingliu’s tutelage
His personal oath comes directly from Jingliu, as she forced it into his psyche over and over through death and rebirth in order to force him to remember:
They both took on deals through which they are able to have access to suppression for their mara:
And both are fighting towards goals that are implied to, at least currently, be impossible (following who I believe to be extremely suspicious individuals):
Also, both are equally stubborn, seen both through their refusal to take no as an answer to Dan Heng's wishes to no longer associate with them and through their refusal to listen to anything that may trigger or directly refute their perceptions of reality:
But most importantly:
Blade and Jingliu both became mara-struck very quickly after Baiheng’s death.
It's repeatedly mentioned that mara is linked to to the artificially stretched lifespans of Xianzhou natives, but also that a fundamental aspect of the affliction is tied to the accumulation of painful memories. Given that vast scope of the destruction that occurred during this bane, and the extreme closeness both Jingliu and Blade had to the deceased and beloved Baiheng (in addition to the trauma of being transmuted into another species entirely, in Blade's case), it's no surprise that both of them are affected so deeply. Additionally, a common treatment for mara is avoiding accessing painful memories or suppressing/removing them entirely.
As Blade himself states that the effects of mara affliction are unique to the individual, I can't make a sweeping judgement of the symptoms all the mara-struck; the specific manifestations of Jingliu and Blade's afflictions, however, can be related to the concept of complicated grief:
We see these symptoms heavily within Jingliu, who literally wears a blindfold to avoid seeing anything that can trigger painful memories, has a voiceline describing how she can't remember many details of the time she and Baiheng spent together, speaks how she's plagued with nightmares about Baiheng, and she refuses to not only prohibit herself from forgetting the pain of what happened to her that day, but also the remaining members of the HCQ.
Similar observations can be made for Blade; he notably speaks very little and withdraws from most social situations, not wanting to take part in “annoying conversations.” His particular form of mara affliction is, by his own admission, unusual and devoid of any real emotion. The few moments of reprieve are spent either thinking too much or not thinking of anything at all. When his mara strikes, though, he shuts down, going completely numb and lashing out at whatever's in his way- not unlike certain displays of trauma responses in real life. He asks directly, “Why does someone like her have to be buried, burned to ash, and eventually forgotten...? Why!?” And given Yingxing being quoted saying directly during this quest that he doesn't wish for an overly long life, and Blade's intense suicidal ideations in the present, it's not a far reach to suggest that he also wishes that he died with her or in her stead.
And both are unable to find purpose in a life without her:
Blade and Jingliu both accuse Dan Heng of being unwilling to accept the past, but both of them are quite literally and physically unable to do so themselves— Dan Heng was even the only one to have spent extended time in the Shackling Prison, even though he should not have had to due to his rebirth, while both Blade and Jingliu were both wanted criminals who managed to escape. They both walk carrying the pain of the past through the present because they feel empty without it. And, unlike Dan Heng, neither one of them have a future that they feel can look forward to.
On that note, Jing Yuan, the only member of the HCQ who is capable of succumbing to mara and yet hasn't, is also the only member to directly acknowledge Dan Heng's autonomy and existence. This extends to Dan Feng as well, as both Blade and Jingliu most often refer to both Dan Heng and Dan Feng interchangeably with the title of Imbibitor Lunae, rather than their names.
The only ones to continue to deny Dan Heng's existence and rebirth are those who are unable to leave the past behind, such as the mirage echoes forever tied to Scalegorge Waterscape, as well as Blade and Jingliu, forever tied to their own suffering.
[Side note: This is exactly why I believe HYV decided to have 1.3 end with an entire questline based around the showing the process of accepting death and healthy grieving: to act as a direct juxtaposition to Blade and Jingliu, who both are unable to engage in the process themselves.]
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Yingxing and Dan Feng/Blade and Dan Heng
Yingxing the Furnace Master and High Elder Dan Feng were very close. They were good friends, yes, but they were also bad for each other, according to Kafka:
Which would be easy enough on its to write off as her own interpretation of a story she’s heard but doesn’t know enough to understand. But Jingliu, the living member of the HCQ most affected by their actions, shows agreement with her assessment, pointing out that she’d found it strange “to see someone so arrogant get along with someone so proud.”
These specific traits are mentioned and attributed to them multiple times— the arrogant craftsman and the proud high elder. The reason for this is also stated by Kafka: “Together, they did something bad— something terrible. It led to horrific consequences.”
The emphasis that they did it together, almost directly after stating that the pair were bad for one another (which was a conscious choice to have her say, as her statements of their shared mistake and Blade's memory loss would have sufficed on their own), is important not simply because they both made and adhered to the plan; it’s important because it implies that it was directly because it took the two of them specifically to create the chaos and unrest that took place and not anyone else. This isn’t a condemnation of either of them as individuals, but Jingliu herself points out that even the smartest people can make extremely ill-advised decisions in the heat of the moment.
If Yingxing hadn’t arrogantly believed himself alone capable of handling and utilizing the remains of the very Emanator it took a plethora of combatants including the entire HCQ to take down (likely leading to the loss in the usability of his hands as a result):
If Dan Feng hadn’t proudly believed his “salvation” more righteous than the autonomy of those mortals he sought to save, "letting" them continue living as though the right to withhold the honor of dying for a cause they believed in was his alone, while also seeming to blindly believe himself incapable of being deceived or misunderstanding something:
None of the resulting fallout would have happened.
Only one with powers like those of the High Elder of the Vidyadhara could have attempted what Dan Feng did, and only an outworlder who has experienced the allure of immortality and experienced the fear of not having enough time would be willing to assist, given the Xianzhou’s stance on acts regarding immortality.
Furnace Master and High Elder, filled with blind confidence in themselves, blind confidence in each other, enabling each other (Yingxing calling out to Dan Feng and implying that they had to be the ones to make a choice, Dan Feng being moved by his human heart’s words and his own exhaustion with watching the deaths of those around him) to make a dangerous choice at a critical moment when their close companion is in mortal peril (more accurately already dead but they couldn’t accept that), and make the decision to ignore the autonomy of everyone involved. They had no contingency plan because they were sure that, with each other, that it would work. Because of this, they both share the blame, their noble intentions not enough to outweigh their unforgivable sin.
Jing Yuan is noted to have “always understood the price better than any of [the HCQ], yet he never spoke up, never did anything”, but anyone who has had the experience of trying to tell an arrogant or prideful person that they’re wrong or making a mistake knows that that’s an uphill battle on its own. Add in that it would be two against one (one of whom he already canonically bickered with constantly throughout their companionship), asking two of the most stubborn people he knew to give up on their desire to save the beloved (for Yingxing, Baiheng; for Dan Feng, his people), the two that were closer to each other than he was with either of them (not to imply that the HCQ weren’t all very close to each other because they definitely were but in obv differing ways) right in the middle of a high stress situation where there’s no time for arguing, and what remains is Jing Yuan with no options but to watch as disaster unfolded before him and everyone else, knowing that their minds were already made up.
Yingxing never wanted to be immortal or to see Baiheng suffering, but his own hubris helped lead to both.
Dan Feng never wanted to endure the sight of meaningless death, and yet directly caused it due to his pride, believing he had the right to play god and interfere with the natural process of death, or to consider that he may be wrong.
They were good friends who were bad for each other, and good people who made an exceedingly bad decision.
In the present, it’s been over 700 years since the last meeting of the High-Cloud Quintet, meaning Yingxing and Dan Feng have been essentially dead for roughly 7x the length of the HCQ’s entire existence. Their new identities, Blade and Dan Heng are clearly meant to parallel each other, but as opposing forces going in different directions, given Blade’s unwavering desire to die, and Dan Heng’s unwavering desire to live and to protect those he cares for. Both were put through immense suffering that, in the same vein, provided the means of “freedom” for them— Blade, through the sword; Dan Heng, through banishment. And both have found new colleagues to consider allies, though even the two groups are opposed to one another.
At this point in time, they’re enemies in all respects, and the chances of any reconciliation between them in my opinion is VERY slim for multiple reasons not limited to how much time has already passed at this point:
1) Dan Heng does not trust Blade at all and actively considers him one of the biggest threats to both his own and his companions’ safety, with good reason. The only way this could feasibly change is if Blade were to stop hunting him, which likely would not happen because
2) Blade is wholly devoted to Elio’s predictions for him, which Dan Heng’s existence would be paradoxical to. One of Blade’s wishes is to kill Imbibitor Lunae specifically in revenge, and he doesn’t (or can't) accept Dan Heng’s existence; if what Dan Heng claims about his identity is true, then that could only mean the future Elio promised must be false, which would strip him of the only purpose he has left in this world, leaving him as an empty, undying husk. This matter is also complicated by the fact that
3) There is still no cure for the mara that afflicts Blade, which would be the only avenue through which Blade could even begin to consider accepting Dan Heng and potentially reconciling. Both he and Jingliu were able to discover methods of having it suppressed, but both were temporary fixes: Jingliu notes that her time is beginning to run out, and Kafka had to use alternate means to reduce the potency of the mara within Blade after it violently flared up after merely being on the Xianzhou, which is likely the only reason the meeting between the HCQ could even take place with his attendance. On top of this, there’s also the fact that
4) Blade’s feelings for Dan Feng are likely very complex as well. Deep down, there’s clearly still some fondness there in the way Blade looks back on the time spent with Dan Feng, but he’s also one of the people he deeply resents and wants to see dead, which I believe could be due to his belief that it’s Dan Feng’s fault that Baiheng died. There is a choice-dependent voiceline from Baiheng deep within Dan Heng's memories that calls out to him to save them from the starskiff, but we know that it crashed. He tried to invoke the Transmutation Arcaneum, but it failed, instead turning Baiheng into a half-dragon monstrosity whose wails of pain echoed all around them. And then, though he wasn’t the one to deal the final blow, he might as well have by giving the location of the dragon’s weak spot to Jingliu. To top everything off, everything ended with Blade within an immortal body, one that leaves him in constant pain, particularly during the healing process after “death”.
From his perspective, it’s easy to see just why Blade could place the blame of Baiheng’s burial and the near destruction of the Luofu solely on Dan Feng, accusing Dan Feng alone of being the one to stubbornly adhere to the plan; it’s also easy to point out Blade’s hypocrisy given his role as Dan Feng’s accomplice. There are multiple potential reasons for this in my opinion: his brain, afflicted by both mara and prior memory loss (though he never forgets Dan Feng’s eyes or “how cruelty burst out from beneath the mirror-like emerald calmness”); his arrogance, leading him to absolve himself of any guilt or wrongdoing because he believes himself incapable of failing; the current youth-like quality of his mind, reduced to immaturely (by which I purely mean the dictionary definition of having/showing emotional development of someone younger) craving nothing but revenge while simultaneously absolving responsibility by saying “He did it! Not me!”. Also, considering Jingliu’s dialogue to Dan Feng where she says to him “If your death can return everything to how it was, I would do it,” and the many ways Blade already emulates Jingliu, it isn’t too difficult to consider that he may have taken that duty on himself out of grief and longing.
Along with these reasons, the narrative emphasizes that even almost a millennium after Yingxing and Dan Feng’s deaths, destruction follows in their wake whenever their new lives cross paths. Dan Heng learned this quickly, hence his fervent desire to keep distance and his relative uncertainty of anywhere that could possibly be safe for him, though he also learned rather quickly that this was futile. Blade was always able to find him, entire spaceships destroyed in his unshakable desire to kill him. On the Xianzhou, not only was Dan Heng dragged into a fight with Blade, but so too was Yanqing. This cycle of destruction is implied to have been so constant for Dan Heng that it’s likely the entire reason he never feels safe or feels unable to confide in anyone so as to not risk putting them in danger.
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The Destruction Trio
Imbibitor Lunae, Blade, and Jingliu all being on the path of destruction is no coincidence given their histories. The three “sinners” all shared a key trait: being able to cope with death and painful losses. Both Yingxing and Dan Feng viewed her as arrogant and proud, respectfully, which was another commonality between them. This leads all three of them to not only become the orchestrators of their own self-destruction, but the destruction of those around them as well: Dan Feng witnessing countless deaths and being forced to be reborn as another; Yingxing’s loss of his gift and creative abilities as well as the transformation into the immortal Blade who only sees himself as a weapon; Jingliu’s abandonment of her sacred oath and everyone she killed during her time under the influence of the mara poisoning her mind. Only Dan Heng walks a different path, as he is the only one to have directly stated that he accepts the past that happened but refuses to let it stain his bright future.
The three of them are also intrinsically linked in their pain. Dan Feng and Yingxing's mistake led directly to Jingliu's suffering; Jingliu's treatment of Blade led to his becoming a living weapon and catching the eye of the Stellaron Hunters, and also to him being able to inflict similar suffering to Dan Heng by hunting him constantly. Blade and Jingliu both are of the mind that this is inevitable and inescapable, but only Dan Heng is in a position to be able and willing to question whether he really does have to continue feeling that pain.
While it's still very early on in HSR's lifespan making it difficult to make any real concrete theories, for now I predict that Jingliu will die in her attempt to kill the Abundance, and I also believe her to be aware of this deep down, as she likely sees this as a way for her to atone and find her peace. It also makes most sense for Blade to die at some point as well, considering his parallels to Jingliu, his current character and the fact that while Yingxing used to fear not having enough time in life when he was young, he came to accept his mortality in his elder years after the full life he lived with the HCQ; it could even possibly be in defense of Dan Heng, which could provide a full-circle end to their cycle and their story, a form of closure that no other broken pair has seemed to get so far. Their respective character stories, while directly representing their current struggles, can also be viewed as allusions to their fates as well, with Blade's referring to his death and Dan Heng's highlighting him seeing the dawn of a new day. I also think it could be feasible for the discovery of a method to remove Blade's mara and for him to grow content with the Blade of today, even with powers he doesn't want, similar to Dan Heng accepting that Imbibitor Lunae's powers will always be a part of him; a "miraculous cure" sort of ending could be very clunky if not handled well in my opinion, though.
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The Reunion
Though it's phrased in a metaphorical way, I feel pretty sure that not only did we just see the reunion alluded to by the PoWC bracer, but also that this is another remnant of Jingliu’s influence that some part of Blade’s subconscious must have clung to:
Note the usage of “should”, a term with many meanings but the most applicable being “expressing a conjecture or hope,” rather than something like “will”, which would indicate future tense or an inevitable event.
Jingliu’s splash art alone shows her pouring out a cup of alcohol
In Jingliu’s character story, Baiheng is said to have brought Jingliu “divine nectar from the other side of the universe”
At the beginning of the companion quest, in the Seat of Divine Foresight, she mentions wanting to have a glass of wine and reminisce with old friends
She is the one to bring the jade flask that Blade handcrafted himself for her when she releases the starskiff in her memory
When the remaining quartet reach Scalegorge Waterscape, she directly mentions that she never believed the 4 of them, with their many grudges and all friendship lost, would gather again and specifically quantifies the hundreds of years that have passed
She does this twice more, mentioning the seven centuries and how they all did this 700 hundred years ago
She is the one to point out that, in the past, they all promised to meet together again for a drink no matter what happened
She says that she believed “those joyful days would flow indefinitely before us” which also fits within the imagery of drinking
There are multiple visual nods to drinking in her flashbacks as well: there’s the quintet having a toast, as well as Jingliu pouring out the alcohol once again while Yingxing sips off to the side, which symbolically is a good representation of the way she poured so much of herself into Blade (whether intentionally or unintentionally) that so much of him resembles her now, down to the bow on the back of his clothes (and even their similar splash arts). There’s also a glimpse of Yingxing and Jing Yuan drinking together. Because both of them were children when they each met Jingliu for the first time, it makes sense that Jingliu and the others were likely the ones to teach the pair to drink once they each came of age.
Jingliu mentions that they will likely never all meet again, and bids farewell to the HCQ.
Finally, at the very end of the quest, she directly says:
Blade mentions alcohol only once, when he says, "The miraculous thing is that in my brief moment of death... all the pain went away... like when we drank to drown our sorrows." In Jingliu's case, we know that she was affected in much the same way as Blade, becoming more confident and boastful under the effects of drinking, mentioning that the nightmares and pain from her childhood memories were no longer so terrifying. For both of them, alcohol is another form of suppression of pain, not unlike substance abuse seen in real life, which grieving individuals are at higher risk of falling victim to.
While it’s possible this wasn’t the reunion that alluded to and they could technically all reunite once more in the future, the sheer number of references to the contents of the backstory mentioned in the bracer lead me to believe that this isn’t the case, as well as Jingliu stating herself that this would likely be their final meeting before she pays her own ultimate price. Not to mention the fact that very specific circumstances had to be in play for Jingliu/Luocha, the Stellaron Hunters, and the Astral Express to all end up on Jing Yuan’s doorstep at the same time. Specificity like that is rarely duplicated, particularly in HSR’s canon, which features many characters with formerly close bonds being separated for whatever reason with no closure to their relationship. The four of them even getting one reunion was a blessing in itself, even though none of them felt particularly happy about it afterwards.
TLDR: Dan Heng is accused of running from his past, but he is the only one of the three "sinners" capable and willing to do so; Jingliu and Blade are heavy parallels of each other and share the same pains of complicated grief; Yingxing and Dan Feng together (and Blade and Dan Heng by association) bring out the worst in each other and represent a cycle of destruction that neither of them are currently able to escape from; the reunion mentioned by the bracer was likely Jingliu's idea that Blade also began to internalize and we likely just watched it occur; Dan Feng, Blade, and Jingliu were all incapable of handling death and loss and this inability is what lead to the three of them causing so much pain and destruction for themselves, each other, and everyone around them.
#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr thoughts#hsr analysis#hsr 1.4#hsr blade#yingxing#dan heng#dan feng#imbibitor lunae#jing yuan#jingliu#baiheng#high cloud quintet
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