#cadence kin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugarcubes-corner · 6 days

Text

🪻 HELLO!! we figured we should actually make an introductory post here, so, hello! all posts you will see on this blog are from the same system!

----- ☆ -----

🪻 SOME STUFF ABOUT US:

22 | they/them collectively | disabled/chronically ill. mobility aid user! also a freelance digital artist :)

↳ we are a did system and we have quite a lot of mlp-sourced fictives, however you may only see a couple of specific ones posting here frequently!

please feel free to interact if you are a sourcemate! (kins are welcome as well)

!! we do not participate in syscourse !! please do not send us asks/messages about it.

we will mostly reblog art but may just post freely about whatever sometimes

----- ☆ -----

minors are okay to interact! this is a sfw blog (though there may be swearing at times)

!! proshippers + homo/transphobes + racists + ableists, etc. DNI !!

some (not all) headmate intros under the cut!

🪻 we're very blurry most of the time, its difficult to tell who is at front sometimes, but you can always feel welcome to say hi to a specific headmate and we will make sure they get your message :D any posts not tagged as "XYZ posts" means we are either blurry or a non-mlp sourced headmate shared the post here!

INTROS:

💗 - Cadence/Cadance (you can spell it either way!)

She/Her | Late 20s | Caretaker, Comfort

🧁 - Pinkie Pie

She/Fun/Sweet | 18-25 | Mood Booster, Caretaker

🌌 - Twilight Sparkle

She/Her | Adult (unsure of exact age) | Internal Helper, Symptom Holder

🦋 - Fluttershy

Ae/She | 26 | Symptom Holder, Soother

⚡️ - Rainbow Dash

He/She | 22 | Protector

🕹 - Sophie/Luna

Ae/They | 22 (technically ageless) | Retired Host

!! this is not everyone, others may add themselves here later! this is just a list of those who have expressed interest in posting on this blog sometime in the future

that's all!! YIPPIE!!

0 notes

donatellawritings · 2 days

Text

୨୧ how sugardaddy!rafe found his favorite little muñeca

rafe wasn’t entirely sure as to what it was that piqued his father’s need to go on vacation every few months out of the year, but he wasn’t against it. since returning back to tannyhill, following his brief collegiate stint, rafe needed an outlet — a place where he could go and blow a few tens of thousands of dollars and not be reprimanded, a place where he could lose himself in copious amounts of coke without judgement, a place where he could be the man — the one who was needed, the one who had all the answers.

so, when ward came up with the brilliant idea to send his eldest of kin to the island of culebra, puerto rico — just to keep his volatile son out of trouble … rafe was quick and eager to oblige.

the villa was immaculate, completely renovated from the ground up, with the pristine view of the clear turquoise waters that crashed against the powder white sand. but what caught rafe’s bright baby blues was the little puerto rican girl who stood bent over, tiny white shorts sucked in the soft fat of your plush ass as you carefully picked at the bright fuschia hibiscus flower that grew alone in the patch of crisp green grass. shiny blown out hair cascaded down the small of your back as rafe tongued the inside of his cheek, watching closely as you straightened your posture, the shorts now almost entirely swallowed by your plump ass.

rafe couldn’t help himself, but continue to ogle at you, his bloodshot eyes carelessly drinking in the way your bronze skin shimmered under the sun, as well as the cute hot pink heart-shaped glitter tattoo that sparkled on your lower back. and fuck, it took everything in him to not shove his hand down his pants with the way the fat of your ass sat all heavy and perfectly curved against the flimsy fabric of your shorts.

smiling to himself, rafe obnoxiously clears his throat, causing you to flinch and whip your pretty little head at him, all wide eyed and open-mouthed, “uh, don’t think y’should be pickin’ at other people’s flowers, huh?” he questions, his voice dripping in a condescending cadence as you immediately drop the pretty flower from your small fist, allowing it to fall at your sparkly pink toes.

remaining silent, you awkwardly shift on your feet, blinking your wispy lashes together as you close your mouth, “i’m sorry, i just — hmph,” you sigh, your nose scrunched in frustration as you struggled to find the right words … in english, at least.

cocking his head to the side, rafe chuckles at your fussy state, his stringy bangs masking the way he incessantly stared at the way the swells of your breasts bounced against your one size too small lily pink triangle bikini top. judging by your thick accent, rafe could tell that communicating with you would be a bit of a struggle — lucky for you, he considered himself to be a proactive man of sorts.

taking a step closer to you, rafe feigns a sigh of disappointment, even going so far as to pinch the bridge of his nose “i don’t know, i may just have to tell someone that y’just comin’ here and makin’ a mess of things — i can’t have that, sweetheart,” he shrugs.

your little heart thumped rapidly against your chest as you bit down into your pouty bottom lip, swallowing thickly as you brought your terrified gaze to the ground.

deciding to twist the knife, rafe nudged the point of your chin with the side of his signet-tinged index finger with squinted eyes, “y’parents never taught y’how to talk to people, huh?” he questions, his pupil-blown eyes searching yours as you parted your swollen lips.

furiously shaking your head, you take a short breath, “i-i dunno how — the words are h-hard,” you speak, your voice small and mousey as your eyes meet rafe’s intimidatingly blue ones.

“well, y’gotta learn, yeah?” rafe shrugs.

with bright and naive eyes, you let out an excited gasp, “you can teach me?” you question, swollen lips pursed together as rafe licks over his pink chapped lips, taking another step closer to you as his rough hand grasps the side of your face.

you were a naive little one, a bit too welcoming … but he could fix teach you.

bringing his thumb to curve around your jaw, rafe shushes you, “y’shouldn’t be walkin’ around stranger’s houses dressed like that — your daddy ever teach you that?” rafe lightly pushes your head back, a shit-eating grin now playing on his handsome face as you obediently answer him with a forceful shake of your head.

your bambi eyes now welled with embarrassed tears, you gently attempted to pull your face from the young man’s tight hold, “yo no tengo …” you whimper softly.

shifting your face, rafe raises a corrective brow at you, “english, kid,” he scolds.

poking out your fat bottom lip in a wobbly pout, you lightly stomp your foot in frustration, “i don’t have a daddy,” you whine, a warm teardrop rolling down the apple of your cheek as rafe tutted at you with a knowing nod to himself.

“that’s the problem, huh? y’don’t have a daddy to keep y’little ass in line,” rafe mumbles, bringing his thumb to mush against your swollen and somewhat sticky lips as you stare at him with confused, yet needy little eyes.

letting go of your jaw, rafe runs a hand through his greasy hair, before swiping at the corner of his mouth with his finger, “listen kid, m’gonna take care of you, yeah? buy you whatever girly shit y’like — maybe even take y’home with me one of these days —”

“like a daddy?”

letting out a huff, rafe takes in the way you reach down to grab ahold of the wilted flower, boobs nearly spilling out of your bikini tops as you fist it tightly in your grip, “yes, but i’ll be your daddy —”

“papi!” you beam, a wide smile stretching your swollen lips as you bat your cutesy stacked lashes together, “that’s your name?” you ask politely, reaching your small hands to tug on the waistband of your shorts, unknowingly pulling them further up your ass.

“rafe is my name, pretty girl — but y’can call me papi, okay?” he coos, swiftly snagging the flimsy flower from your hand, causing you to pout as you roll your eyes, leaving rafe to snap his fingers at you, “hey — don’t start that shit, now come here and let me fix y’up,” he commands, internally satisfied with the way you quickly removed the frown from your face and walked over to him, the tips of your toes meeting the tips of his sandals.

curling a ginger underneath the waistband of your shorts, rafe softly pulls on the stretchy fabric, taking a mental note of the frilly thing you wore underneath. placing the flower in your shorts, rafe carefully secures the band of your shorts to hold the flower upright, you dainty belly button ring also catching his watchful eyes.

craning your neck to get a look of your cute new accessory, you scoff with excitement, “aye, es muy bonita, papi!” you squeal, rushing to swing your arms around rafe’s tense and warm neck.

lightly patting the top of the curve of your asscheek, rafe gently pulls you away from him, “listen, kid — y’can’t just trust every person you meet, yeah? not everyone is going to be nice like your papi, hm?” he clasps his hands around your bare shoulders, biting back a smirk as you nod feverishly.

“tell me that you understand,” rafe pushes, silently encouraging you with a small squeeze of your shoulders.

“i und-understand,” you breathe out.

bringing a hand to barely pat your cheek, rafe reaches his free hand down to tug the hem of your shorts down to cover your ass, “good girl — now why don’t y’come with daddy and i’ll buy y’some pretty clothes,” rafe hums, massaging your cheek with his thumb.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe imagine #sugardaddy!rafe

651 notes · View notes

ohproserpine · 3 months

Text

lamb to the slaughter

alastor finds heaven kneeling before an exterminator tags. alastor x gn! exterminator! angel reader, religious imagery & symbolism, implied death, blood, dark romance

Alastor holds no reverence for heaven.

He himself was far from holy, his rotten soul resistant to the act of prayer and worship. The humility required to kneel and plead for mercy is an attribute that seems alien to him.

But never before had he beheld such beauty.

Alastor eyes were fixed on you. Before him, you loomed, a majestic creature with pearlescent wings outspread, a radiant halo encircling your horns, and draped in golden robes.

In the grip of your divine gaze, Alastor's thoughts wandered back to the verses he had half-heartedly listened to in the hallowed halls of the church. The utterances of the pastor, the haunting melodies of the choir, and the impassioned prayers fervently uttered by the congregation—all appeared to him as a futile worship. Amidst it all, he remained a solitary figure, impervious to the sanctity of the holy prayers.

Had he known that beauty could materialize into a being such as you, he would have uttered all those holy prayers in your name instead.

"Kneel," you commanded. Something within him seethed, growled, and clawed at his thumping chest.

Despite the tremors in his knees, he feigned composure, sinking to kneel before you. The fabric of his pants tore on the coarse gravel, leaving his knees scraped and bloodied. As he raised his gaze to meet yours, a chilling sensation coursed through him, your heavenly eyes seemingly scorching his skin.

Dimly aware of the pain induced by your blade piercing through muscle and meeting bone, a crazed euphoria enveloped him, numbing the stinging sensation.

Alastor found it somewhat hilarious. Creatures like you, born to worship and embody symbols of holiness, bore wings that were perpetually stained with the richness of cardinal red.

A soft, involuntary groan slipped past the demon's lips as you abruptly yanked the spear from his flesh, forcefully pulling him closer to you. Despite the searing pain, he bit down on his tongue, commanding himself to silence.

"How shameful," your voice cooed, a mellifluous cadence that felt like honey to his ears—soft and warm. Alastor felt the edge of your bloodied spear against his throat, yet he made no move to stop you.

There was nothing heavenly about this, and yet it was the closest he felt to heaven.

What's heaven compared to you anyway?

You moved closer towards him, the spear shifting from his throat, tracing a path toward his jaw before aiming it to strike his head. All the while, Alastor gazed up at you with an expression akin to that of a lamb.

"Beautiful," Alastor spat out, blood seeping from between his teeth. The gleam in his razor-sharp smile held a disturbing charm.

"This praise will not purify you."

His laughter echoed in the air, a breathless and bittersweet symphony that mingled with the metallic tang of his own blood.

Forgive him. Alastor pleaded one last time as you raised the spear high. For he has sinned.

And yet, kneeling before you now, hands bloodied with the golden blood of your kin, he knew he would do it again.

#just a drabble :P wrote it in an hour after i listened to 'little lamb' by jazmin bean #sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor

1K notes · View notes

styxthecaracal · 5 days

Text

Calling all angelkin, godkin, devinekin, aviankin, dragonkin, and any other flying kin out there: here, have some photos from my "pictures of super cool clouds I took on my flights to the main land" collection. My treat :3

Hope you enjoy <3

Sincerely, your fellow flying creature, Cadence ^w^

394 notes · View notes

saltywritings · 5 months

Text

Bend The Knee | Aegon ii Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You have been called upon at court to bend the knee to the newly crowned king, however, a surprising turn takes place when you bend the knee.

Warnings: Smut, Minors do not interact, male oral receiving, oral as a demand, adult content, slight female receiving.

A palpable undercurrent of terror unfurled its tendrils within you as you ventured through the hallowed halls of the red keep. The subtle cadence of your heels created a delicate patter, resonating against the stoic stone floors, each step echoing the rhythmic pulse of your heart, which had quickened its tempo within the confines of your chest. The ominous ambiance of the surroundings enveloped you, casting shadows that danced in eerie tandem with the disquiet settling in the air. The very essence of the fortress seemed to be imbued with an unspoken tension, as if secrets whispered among the walls, and the weight of history bore down upon you, amplifying the sense of foreboding that clung to the atmosphere like a shroud.

How could one not succumb to an overwhelming sense of terror while traversing the path leading to the throne room? The ominous summons from the king, directed specifically at you, added a layer of apprehension that hung heavy in the air. This unsettling journey unfolded in the aftermath of the harrowing executions, where both your brother and father met their demise for adamantly refusing to yield before the might of Aegon Targaryen.

The weight of grief and defiance still lingered, casting a somber shadow over your steps. The very air seemed charged with a palpable tension, the echoes of the recent tragedy reverberating through the corridors. Each footfall echoed with a haunting resonance, a morose rhythm that mirrored the throbbing ache in your heart. The throne room loomed ahead, its imposing doors a portal to an uncertain fate.

As you approached, the memories of your fallen kin and their unwavering loyalty to their principles pressed upon your consciousness. The foreboding atmosphere intensified, a testament to the gravity of the situation. The iron grip of fear tightened its hold, fueled not only by the formidable presence of Aegon Targaryen but also by the specter of the irrevocable losses suffered in the name of steadfast allegiance.

As the grand doors swung open, revealing the regal spectacle of the throne room, your gaze fixed upon the newly crowned king. Adorning his head was a formidable black crown, adorned with a radiant ruby at its center, a symbol of authority that seemed to cast a profound weight upon his brow. His dark, penetrating eyes met yours as he beckoned you forward with a commanding yet composed presence.

"Lady Y/N, come closer," he declared, his voice unwavering and devoid of menace. The resonance of his command held a magnetic power, drawing you toward him. The air in the throne room seemed to pulse with a peculiar intensity, as if the very fabric of destiny hung in the balance.

Complying with the regal summons, you gracefully approached the throne, your steps measured and deliberate. Standing before him, the gravity of the moment became palpable. The ruby at the heart of his crown gleamed like a beacon, a testament to the authority he now wielded. The silence that enveloped the room spoke volumes, punctuating the significance of your presence in Aegon's gaze.

"I ask of you what I have asked of all my subjects. Prove yourself loyal." Aegon notified you, his voice hung with authority with each word that echoed through the throne room. You stood before him; despite the loyalty that your father and brother had put their life on the line for you were not willing to die. they made their choice and you could be nothing but proud based on the honor they were willing to die for. therefore, you made your own choice.

You sunk down to your knee and looked to the ground as you pledged yourself loyal to his crown. However, a great confusion managed to overcome you as you heard a small laughter come from the king.

"Both knees, lady y/n." Aegon spoke with a certain chuckle to your tone. A great confusion engulfed your senses by his sudden amusement. Still, you complied wanting to ensure that you made it out of this room with your life. You now rested before him with both your knees flat on the ground.

"Come closer," he urged as you gave a small slide on the ground. Remaining on your knees he let out a groan in anticipation. "Come here," he let out an eager demand grabbing onto you by your waist and sliding you so close to him that your knees were touching the iron throne. You were between his legs, looking up at him with pitiful eyes as he smiled. It was only now that you had noticed the growing erection in Aegon's pants and the sudden blush that covered your cheeks.

"Open my pants and use your mouth to show me how loyal you are to your king." Aegon demanded of you, sitting back as he looked to you waiting for you to make a move.

"B-but your grace . . . "you attempted to struggle. "I am a maiden I do not know how to do such a thing." you suggest your voice stuttering in tear unable to look up to meet his eyes.

Aegon let out a sigh as he took your hands. "It is not hard to do. I will show you," he insisted grabbing onto your hands and pulling them to his pants.

He helped you open the button holding them together and brought your hand to the inside of his pants. His cock felt soft against your hand and was throbbing from the very contact you offered. Aegon guided your hand to pull it out and your eyes widened at the sight of his cock before your face. Aegon could not help but to smile at the way your eyes looked to bewildered at the sight of him.

"Now open that sweet mouth of yours," Aegon demanded, you complied without hesitation. You knew what was to happen next and you worried any lack of performance would result in the end of your life and therefore.

With your mouth open wide he grabbed you by the roots of your hair and sank you onto his cock. It was a strange feeling, to have one in your mouth. It tasted slightly salty and you could not help but notice the vein that was pulsing against your tongue as he sunk you onto him. He let out a loud groan of pleasure begun to sink back into the throne.

With this gloved leather hands rooted into your hair he looked at you with his cold eyes, biting on his lip as he begun to force your head up and down on his cock. You complied with the action, however, begun to gad the further he forced your head down. It was perhaps for a moment you attempted to wiggle off a bit to ease from the gagging but Aegon only took efforts to force you down further.

"Hush, Hush. Relax sweet thing that's part of it." He insisted to you as he continued to force your head up and down on his cock until he had balls deep, forcing your lips to swallow his entire length.

"Fuck- Fuck, you're so beautiful when you're swallowing my cock like that." Aegon let out in a groan, still listening to the wet sounds your mouth made as it engulfed his cock. His boots sliding across the floor as he attempted to hold out. But there had been something too good about the feeling of your mouth around him.

Aegon soon pulled you off his cock, watching as the spit that trailed from your mouth and down your chin connected to his cock. Aegon stood before you, his hand in your hair still as he forced you to look up at him. "Fuck, yes-" he let out in a moan again as his cold eyes remained on yours.

Aegon kept you looking up at him as he began to release. The only thing you could do was look up helplessly at your king as he begun to release his seed across your face, watching as it dripped down your cheeks and onto the fine lace of your dress. "You look so beautiful with my cum ruining your innocent face." He said with a smile. "Good little loyal subject," he took a second to praise you while he stuffed his cum covered cock back into his pants.

"Rise," He remanded and you complied standing to your feet, his cum covering your face, you dared not move. However, you were met with sudden shock when Aegon went to his knees, the king before you on your knees was certainly not what you were expecting and he lifted up your dress. Aegon was now before your clothes womanhood and he soon pressed his face against it, taking in a deep breath as his other hand held your back steady. You let out a small yelp and could not help the involuntary struggle.

"Hold still- you are still proving yourself." Aegon reminded you and you attempted to so, looking as his nose pressed into your cunt and he took deep breaths in. He let out a hum of approval as he pulled his face away and begun to pull your underwear down just far enough to expose yourself to him. Aegon did not hesitate, his tongue managed to do a swipe across the inside of your cunt and he soon let out another hum.

"Gods, you little whore. You fucking loved that. You're dripping wet, like a ripe peach." Aegon said, with his hands holding onto your waist his tongue went in again. it licked and sucked and while you found pleasure in it that was not his intention. No, Aegon was trying to suck out every drop he could. However, after a few moments he pulled away, pulling down your dress but leaving your underwear exposed.

"You are expected at my chambers at nightfall. I believe I know a few others ways to test your loyalty."

#aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon smut #dark house of the dragon smut

806 notes · View notes

konpeitochodai · 26 days

Text

𝐅𝐎𝐂𝐔𝐒: 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝 両面宿儺

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ a potential series; sukuna x f! reader (tw (?): mentions of illness and violence) ; 1.3k words unedited; masterlist

in the tapestry of history, the heian period was a brushstroke of opulence amidst the canvas of japan’s past, a time when the court was a chalice of culture, brimming with the nectar of artistry and poise. the air was thick with the scent of cherry blossoms, and the rustle of silken robes was the music of the day as nobles engaged in the delicate dance of courtly life.

you, a bloom in the illustrious garden of nobility, were the quintessence of heian splendor. your family, a lineage as old as the cedars that lined the path to the imperial city, was revered, and you, their sole daughter and heiress, were the embodiment of their grace and honor.

yet, whimsy often has a shadow, and yours was a malaise that draped over your vitality like a silk veil over a lantern's glow. illness had visited you, an uninvited guest whispering tales of fragility through the corridors of your being. your days, once filled with the laughter of courtiers and the whisper of brush on paper, now passed in a quieter cadence, punctuated by the careful ministrations of healers and the hushed prayers of your kin.

in this realm where the fantastic and the corporeal waltzed in a slow, intricate rhythm, your path was as unforeseen as the flight of a dragonfly over a moonlit pond.

as dawn's light surrendered to dusk, a calamity unfurled its cruel wings over the village that cradled your noble house. Whispers of smoke curled into the sky, a prelude to the inferno that would soon engulf the homes and hearts of your people. the flames, like ravenous beasts, devoured the tranquility of your sanctuary, reducing dreams and legacies to embers and ashes.

in the sanctity of your chamber, illness had rendered you as immobile as a painting, a silent observer to the chaos that raged beyond the shoji screens. the urgency of evacuation stirred the air, yet it seemed fate had woven a different thread for you. your attendants, faces taut with fear, fled for their lives, leaving you adrift in a sea of solitude, your life's flame flickering in the oppressive heat.

it was in this haze of despair and fever that a figure emerged, a towering silhouette against the backdrop of destruction. his presence was as enigmatic as the moon's path through a cloud-strewn sky. though your vision swam with the dance of your malady, you perceived the strength in his stance, the aura of power that clung to him like a shadow. this figure, a stranger amidst the chaos, stood as the only clarity in the blur of your world on fire.

his motives unreadable, his origins a mystery, he was the unknown variable in the equation of your fate, the last sight your weary eyes held onto as consciousness slipped from your grasp like the final petal of a season's last blossom.

in the thickening smoke, your voice, hoarse and weak, mustered the strength to speak through the veil of suffering, "end this... please, let this be my final reprieve." but the command, even in its plea, was met with a cold indifference from the towering figure. a command, no matter how faint, seemed to stir a distaste within him, a rebellion against the very notion of being ordered.

as the fire's light danced in his eyes, a revelation pierced the haze. he noticed the presence of a large curse spirit, its form twisted and malevolent, clinging to you with a parasitic zeal. this entity, unseen by the fleeing villagers, was a specter of malice, feeding off your life force, exacerbating your plight amidst the chaos.

his gaze, now fixed upon the curse that besieged you, revealed a new layer of complexity to the unfolding drama.

the curse spirit, drawn to the cursed energy that seeped from you, began to feed, siphoning your essence as you lay unconscious, lost to the world. and thus, a relentless battle ensued, a clash of wills and power. the figure, whom the flames seemed to bow before, engaged the spirit in a fierce conflict, each strike resonating with the intent to annihilate. the dance of their combat was as ferocious as the fire that consumed the village, a testament to the fury and the might that these beings wielded.

the battle that unfolded was a spectacle of raw, unbridled power, confined to the space where only the strongest curses dared to tread. sukuna, revered and feared as the disgraced one, found himself in an unusual predicament. he had only allowed a fraction of his immense power to surface, a sliver of his true capabilities, confident in his supremacy over any adversary.

yet, the cursed spirit that emerged from your body was no ordinary foe. it was a force to be reckoned with, its strength seemingly bolstered by the cursed energy it leached from your unconscious form. each exchange between sukuna and the spirit was a maelstrom of violence, a testament to the spirit's unexpected might. sukuna’s blows, usually decisive and fatal, were met with a resilience that bordered on the implausible.

as the fight raged on, sukuna couldn't help but entertain a thought, a morbid curiosity that gnawed at his pride. if you, whose body seemed so fragile and unassuming, were to perish, what magnitude of cursed energy would be unleashed? the spirit's tenacity hinted at a latent power within you, a reservoir of cursed energy that belied your outward frailty.

sukuna, engaged in this fierce struggle, found himself pushed to exert more of his power, to tap into deeper wells of his curse, not out of necessity, but to satisfy his own growing intrigue. what secrets did your weak body hold? what potential did it mask? these questions fueled his ferocity, driving him to dominate the spirit that dared challenge him, all while pondering the enigma of the cursed energy that lay dormant within you.

sukuna, in the midst of the battle with the malevolent spirit, decided it was time to end the charade. he unleashed a devastating increase in his power, amplifying it by a quarter, which sent shockwaves through the battleground. The spirit, previously feasting on your energy, stood no chance against such a formidable force.

the air itself seemed to shudder under the weight of his might, and the spirit that had been leeching off your energy recoiled, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught.

sukuna’s intentions were clear; he was poised to end not just the battle but also your life, to absorb the unique cursed power that had piqued his interest. as his hand reached out, the world seemed to stand still, the finality of the moment hanging heavy in the atmosphere.

but then, a flicker of change swept through Sukuna's domain. his senses, sharp as ever, picked up the approach of a multitude of sorcerers, their combined presence enough to cause even the disgraced one to take pause. It wasn't fear that stayed his hand, but rather a recognition of the opportunity that lay before him. the thrill of the chase, appealed to him the most.

with a swift decision, sukuna altered his plan. rather than dispatching you and facing the incoming sorcerers, he chose to whisk you away, making an escape not out of necessity but as a deliberate act to fuel the narrative he reveled in. the chase would continue, and you, now an integral part of this high-stakes game, unknowingly was now caught in the eye of a storm, a valuable piece in sukuna’s grand design, as he led you both into the unknown…

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ hello !!! this is my first ever attempt at the prologue of a series !! but i’m sort of unsure if this is interesting enough to keep going lol…i enjoyed writing it but idk i like writing drabbles and such and would like to receive requests !!! maybe i should’ve put that into a formal post lol lol. but yeah, i hope you enjoyed and let me know if i should continue this series

#⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡まりこからやで〜#𝐅𝐎𝐂𝐔𝐒: 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 #呪術廻戦 #両面宿儺 #宿儺 #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #heian sukuna

119 notes · View notes

fragileheartbeats · 2 months

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗮

Sixteen winters have passed since that day. In the shadowed cradle of a world untouched by the warmth of the sun, the twins roamed the icy barrens like phantoms of the frost. Born of blood and ice, their lives had unfolded beneath the watchful gaze of their draconic guardian, a beast of legend whose breath was death's cold whisper. The twins knew not the touch of human hand nor the soft cadence of the spoken word; their language was the howl of the wind, the crack of ice, and the silent understanding that passed between them like the secret whispers of the stars. No names graced their lips, for in the language of the winds and the wild, names were as fleeting as the breath that bore them.

Their days were a testament to the savage beauty of survival, a dance with death played out upon the endless white. They hunted with ferocity of the wild, their bodies honed by the relentless pursuit of the fleet-footed hare and the sharp-clawed bear. Naked they roamed, their skin kissed by the frost, wearing only the silver and blonde crowns bestowed upon them by their lineage. They moved with a grace that belied their savage existence, their bodies honed by the relentless pursuit of survival. They were creatures of instinct, their senses sharp as the frost. Silver hair cascaded down their backs, untouched and unbound, a river of moonlight in the eternal twilight of their world. Their eyes, a haunting echo of Valyria's lost glory, gleamed with a feral light, silver and purple orbs reflecting the endless dance of predator and prey.The cold was a constant companion, yet it bowed before them, for they were of the ice, born to its embrace.

The twins hunted as one, their movements a symphony of silent death. The ice beneath their feet whispered tales of ancient hunts, of blood spilled and lives taken in the eternal cycle of survival. They feasted on the raw flesh of the seals that dared to bask on the ice, their teeth tearing through skin and sinew with primal savagery. The taste of blood, warm and life-giving, was the sacrament of their existence, a communion with the land that bore them.

They communed with the world and each other through gestures and looks, a language born of necessity and the purest form of understanding. They needed no words to convey the depth of their bond, for their souls were intertwined, two halves of a whole forged in the crucible of their shared existence. Their language was the unspoken bond of soul and glance, a communion of spirits entwined by shared blood. They spoke in the rustle of leaves, the crack of ice, the sigh of the wind through the desolate wastes. Theirs was the vocabulary of the wild, a tapestry of sounds and silence that spoke of deep, unbreakable bonds.

The dragon, their guardian and guide, watched over them with a presence as ancient as the mountains. Under her shadow, the twins knew no fear, their lives intertwined with the leviathan of frost and snow. They rode upon her back, her wings beating a rhythm that echoed in the very marrow of their bones, a song of freedom and flight that filled their souls with exhilarating terror. Each day, they roamed the wastes on the backs of their dragon kin, the sky their dominion, the earth their hunting ground. They hunted as the dragons did, striking from above with lethal grace, their prey unable to escape the shadow of death that descended upon them. Fish from the frozen rivers, hares that darted across the snow—no creature was safe from their hunger.

On the day that destiny's hand would steer their course anew, the sky above was a tapestry of brooding clouds, the sun a forgotten memory. The twins ventured forth upon the back of their dragon mother, her scales a labyrinth of frozen light. They soared above the world, masters of all they surveyed, until the whims of fate cast them down. They were aloft, the wind in their hair, the world spread out below them like a tapestry of ice and snow.

The boy, in his curiosity and boldness, leaned too far, reaching for a glimpse of eternity in the abyss below, laughing into the wind as they ascended into the heavens. And in that moment, the bond that tethered him to safety snapped, and he was swallowed by the void. A sudden gust, stronger and more treacherous than any they had known, caught them unawares. The dragon faltered, its wings buffeted by the relentless force of the wind. And then, in a moment that stretched into eternity, the boy was gone, torn from the dragon's back and sent plummeting into the abyss below. His sister's cry was a thing of raw anguish, a sound that would haunt the winds forevermore. She watched, powerless, as her brother fell, his body a mere speck against the vastness of the world.

The girl's cry pierced the veil of snow and ice, a wail of loss and despair that shook the very foundations of their world. She watched, heart shorn in twain, as the sea consumed her other half, the boy who was her mirror, her soul's echo. The dragon circled, a silent mother, its mournful cry a lament for the child it had failed to save.

As he fell, the world around him a blur of white and grey, the sea below, a maw of churning darkness, opened to claim him, swallowing his form with indifferent hunger. He struck the sea with a force that turned his body to fire, the cold waters closing over him in a shroud of death. But death was not yet ready to claim him. The cold seeped into his bones, a herald of the end, yet it was in this embrace that he found clarity. The memory of a voice, soft and sorrowful, filled his mind. He saw her as if through a veil of dreams, her face alight with love and pain as she whispered to her children. Her lips pressed against their foreheads, a benediction and a burden all at once.

Yet, even as darkness claimed him, he did not feel fear. In the space between breaths, in the quiet heart of the storm, he heard her voice again, a lullaby of the night sky, of stars and secrets and the boundless love that endured beyond the veil.

"Forgive me," she whispered, her voice the warmth in the cold, the light in the dark. "Forgive me, my darlings, for the world I have brought you into."

And he closed his eyes.

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

House Celestyr tag list: @emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

54 notes · View notes

girlkisserr · 2 years

Text

Thank you Necrodancer

Transparent ver below, list of artists involved in the collab in the tweet, go check them out!

41 notes · View notes

aledethanlast · 4 months

Note

Any more snippets of David Wesninski au ? I adore everything about it. I love how it rebrands relationship between Kevin and Neil and Kevin's bit of jelousy over Neil's apparence

Three days into spring break, David gets a phone call.

"Mr. Wymack," Agent Browning says. His voice is too familiar at this stage, to the point David can even pick out cadences. In this case: tired and confused. "Do you have a minute?"

"I get on a plane in fifteen minutes," David says, checking the departures board one more time for good measure. "Is it urgent, or can it wait until our scheduled meeting?"

Once the initial yelling had settled back in Baltimore, the FBI very quickly tried to shove David into the nearest interrogation room, only to discover that David had plenty of experience with law enforcement, and the best counsel a college exy coach could afford. (Which wasn't quite as much as the football coaches, but still plenty, and he'd managed fine with much less in the past.)

Wymack was scheduled for an interrogation, with his lawyer present, in two days; he had until then to straighten his story, get any piece of paperwork he could think of to back it, and recruit the next year's lineup while he was at it. If Browning was calling now, it had better be good.

"It will come up at the meeting anyways," Browning says, "but I wanted to give you a heads up. There's no easy way to say this, but somebody needs to consider the matter of Nathan Wesninski's funerary rights. I'm not here to get into matters of inheritance or estate, but somebody needs to make decisions about his remains."

David stops walking. The moving walkway won't let him stand still. Browning keeps going. "Initially I wanted to spare the kid the trouble, considering what he's been through, but we've already run your background, and you are officially the next of kin. For whatever value is holds to you, I am sorry for your loss."

David does what he does best, then; he wraps his fist around those words and shoves them in his pocket, where nobody can see how much they hurt him.

He stumbles as the walkway dumps him back on solid ground. "I'll think about it," he tells Browning. "Thank you."

On the plane, he takes those words back out of his pocket, puts them on the folding tray. Loss. Did he really lose anything, when he gave it all up years ago? Does he have any right to presume to know a man he hadn't seen or heard of in twenty eight years?

As is habit, his mind turns to practicalities. It wouldn't be his first funeral, nor the first he arranged. Christ, Seth was this year. But a funeral is a play to an audience, and David thinks he fears anyone who would want to attend. Would Neil even want to hold a funeral? Does he harbor any last words, final taunts, final tears?

If David decided that he wanted to mourn his twin brother, would Neil judge him for it?

#david wesninski au #this was supposed to end on a lighter note but whomp whomp #aftg

60 notes · View notes

vacantgodling · 4 months

Text

RED DEATH & THE ORACLE'S FAVOR

Red pressed her face to the table, hiding her eyes. “I have no money to offer you, nor children to sell. I have no clothes other than those bloodied on my back. No riches, nor connections can this deal between us bring. But I do have myself, and any services you ask of me.” The Oracle pondered her brazen request, and smiled to himself at her earnestness without jest. Her head he raised with a kind hand, cupping her chin beneath his palm. “Raise your head, sweet Red, no need to grovel just yet. The night wanes to the hours, young. Come, I will give you lodgings for the night, and then in the marrow, our deal, we shall strike.”

Red like blood, that’s what she named herself. Red like death.

All seek The Red Death for the howls of her moon scythe to fall down upon their enemies, like the jaws of a wolf on innocent sheep. Just as the jaws of The Wolf Queen close upon even the furthest reaches of this land and has spiraled this country into a seemingly endless ruin.

The vendetta Red has against The Wolf Queen is personal: she is responsible for the kidnapping of her elder sister, Iole. For years, Red has been scouring the land high and low, under rock and hill, to find her beloved kin. Her reputation grew from desperation; burdened with this curse that stole Iole’s life and their childhood away from them. Yet, this curse is her only hope of salvaging it.

For sustenance, she kills. Shelter, she forgoes. She will not rest until Iole is safe with her once more.

But she is running out of time and she has exhausted all options. A stroke of luck leads her to another cursed one such as herself, The Oracle; a young man named Hel. The man who knows everything if asked the question, yet he says nothing if not offered a worthy bargain. It is with him that Red strikes her final deal: they will traverse these war battered lands to find and protect The Hidden Prince, who will free this land from The Wolf Queen’s maw. And if she succeeds... The Oracle will give her the knowledge she seeks.

• • • Further Details

Inspiration(s): The folktale Snow White and Rose Red, Snow White and the Huntsman (2012) - but redone because it had such wasted potential, and general fairytale tropes

POV: third person omniscient with a folk tale, singsong cadence.

Themes: overcoming grief, childhood trauma, curses as blessings and blessings as curses, political power struggles, someone is haunting the narrative

TW(s): death, gore, body horror, mentions of child abuse and of SA

Features: all queer & all black cast, neurodivergency of many kinds, atypical romantic/qp relationships

main tag: s: red and hel / s: rdof <- main tag now but older posts are under red and hel

• • • Main Cast

ROSMARIN / RED (The Red Death) -> she/her, aro/grayace

HEL (The Oracle) -> he/him, mspec gay & poly

ARDEN (The Hidden Prince) -> he/him, straight (?)

IOLE (The Innocent) -> she/her

THE WOLF QUEEN (The Scourge) -> any pronouns though people tend to use feminine due to being the "Queen"

#s: red and hel #wip intro #no one asked but still i deliver :3c #s: rdof

41 notes · View notes