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#verse: I'm Still Here

unforestalledreturn · 9 months

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Only Teeth

a starter for @saishuu-heiki

It had begun innocently enough. It was a young child’s dream to find that place again in the world, to find that warmth that was lost. Beloved jewel to unspoken disgrace, overnight, without warning or explanation, Genesis was left yearning for something he could neither describe nor tangibly hold. It was the scorn of the Banoran townspeople’s eyes, the pensive looks, the whispers. Once, they were filled with adoration, with smiles and laughter. But now, after so many years, such things were rose-tinted echoes that the freshly recruited SOLDIER hardly recognized.

One would think admission to the most coveted ranks in ShinRa’s imposing army would have been cause for celebration. But even at the entrance ceremony, Genesis stuck out like a sore thumb. Amongst the rows of fresh recruits, he was quite a bit older. He was far more freckle-faced, far less muscular, and if these were all overlooked, the bright red sash on his arm that no one else in the crowd bore truly did separate him from the rest. And it was not in a good way. Genesis had only been accepted via a niche, scarcely used program that specialized in magic and materia usage as a primary vector. At first, he thought there would be plenty of others like him, that he would rise through the ranks and prove every naysayer wrong, and turn every scornful eye to respect.

Genesis was wrong. And as the weeks turned into months, he became intimately acquainted with just how wrong he was. SOLDIER was predicated on the strength enhancing properties of mako and those that could withstand it. And it turned out that even those who passed the initial tests often dropped out to infantry as their tolerance failed. They dropped like flies. They puked during physical exams, were overtaken by fever, by memory loss, by a whole host of ailments that disqualified them from becoming the best of the best.

And, as it was in nature, when the environment was brutal, only the strongest would survive.

“Well, well, well… I guess 17 times the charm, Rhapsodos.” A brutish SOLDIER 3rd’s voice cut across the training room where Genesis had been planking on a mat. Even if his strength requirements were not the same to maintain his good standing, he had bare minimums. Cloudy eyes glared forward as Genesis pretended to not hear.

Then, a boot was placed square on his back, pressure mounting.

“I even heard they were so tired of you trying that they made up a whole new program. Isn’t that rich?” The 3rd chuckled as his little posse echoed his sentiments, surrounding their prey like a jackal.

Genesis’ breath labored, arms shaking beneath the weight, arms screaming. But he grit his teeth to hold his silence. He reminded himself of his own promise-- to turn every eye, make each disbeliever swallow their tongue. The example of stoicism and refinement that one lauded Sephiroth excluded was secretly every SOLDIER’s dream, even if they never had the chance to meet the prodigy face to face. Most were lucky to even be deployed with that one man army. With grace and skill like that, one had no use to respond to snapping dogs.

Only…

The more Genesis sweat, the more his muscles ached and stomach knotted, the more he was faced with a bitter reality; he was not Sephiroth. And his arms buckled, body flattened beneath the oppressive pressure. This was met with laughter, the 3rd’s sharp heel digging into his shoulder blades. “Awww. City life’s hard for a little country boy. You know, I heard there are still openings in infantry for a toilet scrubber. That is of course if your dainty little self can withstand such hard labor.”

Genesis did not have the luxury of grace or decorum. He did not have the reputation. He had only his teeth, his bones, his wrath, his indignation.

From outside the training hall, those passing were only mildly aware of the drama within. Some lingered at the doorway, curious, but knowing better than to get caught up on a SOLDIER’s ego trip and continued on. Others idly gossiped at the common room nearby or just got some much needed coffee in their sleep-deprived bodies. It was a more or less unremarkable scene, until the entire floor of the building shook with an explosion. Those in the hallway were immediately enveloped in the plume of a fireball, and the common room was filled with hoarse choking and blindly fumbling through the smoke. The thick metal walls encasing the training room began to crack and in some places even melted-- that was until the fire alarms began to blare, water steaming down in an attempt to put out the blaze.

#saishuu-heiki #rp: only teeth #verse: I'm Still Here #here you are!#hope this works!

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corazondebeskar-reads · 8 months

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well it's love, make it hurt - chapter six

well it’s love, make it hurt series

six: sometimes it just feels better to give in

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You have cabin fever and a rough morning. The Mandalorian finds a way to cheer you up and pass the time while you travel across the galaxy.

Warnings: bdsm, d/s relationship, established relationship, dom!Din Djarin x sub!reader, soft dom!Din Djarin, kind of intense scene, domestic nonsense, hand feeding, spanking, one (1) pussy slap, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), 69, rope bondage, sex pollen (intentional, Din only), Din Djarin removes the helmet but doesn't reveal his face, subspace, aftercare, no y/n

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 8: Sex Pollen/Sexual Competition, inspired by @absurdthirst’s wonderful prompt list,

also on a03

3 ABY - Winter

It's day five of near-constant travel across the galaxy. You had worked on the way out, filling the carbonite, and now had nothing to do but return.

Yesterday, you had stopped for fuel and food. Taking the long range of bounties would pay off in the end; you had run the numbers, but for now, it meant things were a little tight. Mando never really lingered at the ports, but you hadn’t bothered to enjoy the market or the rusty crimson mountain range. The faster you got back, the faster you got paid.

It wasn’t as if you would starve. There were reserves; you both knew that. After it became clear neither of you were particularly interested in ending your arrangement, you shifted the way the profits were split in favor of a more communal fund for ship repairs, rations, and medicine. That budget was running low. But both Mando and you had your own caches of credits, earmarked for other purposes.

You regret the quick departure now. You wake up stiff and grouchy, like your body knew it missed out on a leisurely hike full of beautiful sights. After you drag yourself out of bed to stretch, you try to recover the day.

What for, though? There's nothing to do. You're over looking at the stars or the gray walls of the Crest. The datapad only held your attention for a minute or so before the tension in your chest built back up, and you tossed it to the side.

Getting out of bed proves to be another mistake. You burn your caf. When you try to dump it out, you spill a bunch on the floor and have to clean the whole galley to get the smell out. And when you go to rid yourself of the caustic odor and sticky residue, the fresher is exclusively sputtering cold water.

Fuck it.

You dry off and go back to the bunk, not bothering with clothes lest you rip your favorite shirt or trip and fall while putting on trousers. Seemed like the kind of thing that might happen.

You bury yourself in the covers and turn off the light, determined to sleep for the entire day and hope tomorrow was better.

Mando was elbow-deep in the wiring for most of the morning. A long trip was a good chance to update some of the non-critical systems. He was vaguely aware that you were up and puttering around the ship, and as much as he wanted to take a break and greet you, he knew he’d never be able to finish the job.

By the time he finishes and cleans up, securing the panel back to the wall, a couple hours have passed. But you aren’t in the hull eating lunch or fixing your jammed pistol. You aren’t curled up in your chair with a book. Even the refresher is empty (to his slight disappointment. He would have enjoyed the show).

It was unlike you to go back to bed. A deep frown settles as he makes his way to the bunk, and there you are, curled up on your side against the wall. He runs a bare hand up and down your leg, and you stir a little.

“Cyare, you okay?” he says.

“Uh-huh.” It was more of a groan than anything else.

“Are you sick?” His hand tightens a little on your calf, brow furrowing as he reaches up to feel your forehead.

You bat him away (or, at least, he thinks that's what you attempted to do. It was more of a weak flop of your hand before it fell back on the bed). “Nuh-uh. Sleepy. Bad morning.”

He settles on the edge of the bed. “Anything I can do for you, cyar’ika?”

“Nuh-uh. Lemme sleep.”

“Okay.” He sighs and slips back out of the bunk, but leaves the door open. The idea of closing you in there made something grind in his sternum.

He lets you sleep for another hour while he takes a quick rinse in the fresher before preparing a bit of lunch—or, technically, breakfast. Neither of you have eaten yet. At the market yesterday, while you were meticulously restocking and haggling with shopkeepers (he could practically see the credit-per-meal calculations crunching in your head), he had slipped a wrap of boiled tipyip, a crusty loaf of bread, fresh tubers, and a few fruits into the bag. With his own coin, of course, and insisted on carrying the bag.

The idea of you stressing over whether or not you’d have enough food made him physically ill. He trusted you to buy enough rations, but it was unusual for you not to buy at least a few fresh items. You were going to be on the ship for another four days.

Before working together, you had both lived that way. Bounty to bounty, ration to ration. But half the point of taking a partner was to have a better life. And while most of his credits went to making sure his people all had better lives, it hadn’t taken long to soften up with you around. He wanted to be soft with you around, or you’d spend every moment flinching away from the thorns you’d made your nest from.

Osik, he’d done the same thing, but he had the armor. The armor he’d been wearing a lot less lately. The past month or so, he found himself shedding everything but the helmet while you traveled. Never on land or at port, but hurdling through the frigid vastness, he preferred to feel your warmth.

Mando eats while he makes your plate and then, slipping his helmet back into place, climbs into the bed. He settles behind you and wakes you.

“S’it morning?” you mumble.

“No, but it’s time to get up.”

“No,” you whine and cover your head with the blanket.

He shakes his head, grinning beneath the mask. “I’m not asking, cyar’ika.”

You pull the blanket down to your nose and look up at him with big, sad eyes.

“Stop that,” he tugs at the blanket, “or are you trying to be a brat?”

You shake your head.

“C’mere,” he says, patting his lap. You scoot up so your back is against his chest.

“Open,” he says.

You obey immediately, but furrow your brows and strain your head back a little to see what he's up to, given that you are very much not in range of his cock.

He presses a berry into your mouth, which doesn’t seem to clear anything up for you, as you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Eat, cyar’ika,” he says, running a finger over your bottom lip.

You close your eyes for a moment as the juicy berry bursts on your tongue, and then you sit up and whip around to look at him. “Hey—” you started to scold.

“It didn’t come out of the budget,” he says, pulling you back down by the shoulder. A wave of affection spreads as you let him rearrange your body, despite your irritation.

You open your mouth to argue, but he fills it with a slice of longfruit before you can make a sound. You bite down on it like you wished it was his flesh, narrowing your eyes in challenge.

“I’m allowed to spend my credits however I’d like,” he reminds you, pressing a piece of stew-soaked bread to your lips just in case you got any ideas about speaking again. “If I want to spoil you, I can spoil you.”

You cross your arms across your chest but open your mouth willingly for the next bite. He brings his idle arm around yours, basking in the way you loosen a little, forehead smoothing over and exhaling softly.

“That’s it, cyar’ika, just let me take care of you.”

Once you had eaten a decent helping of everything, he brings his other arm around you and closes his eyes, resting his helmet in the crook of your neck.

“Are you still hungry?” he murmurs after a few moments of peace.

You shake your head. You're pleasantly full, warmed by the stew, and feeling lighter from the fresh meal. “Did you eat?”

He nods against your shoulder, wiggling you a little so you're nestled between his long legs, and sighs softly. You take the cue to close your eyes and lean your head against his chest, content to go back to sleep.

You should have known he had other plans when his hands started wandering, but to be fair, it was rare that you lay together without him idly fonding you. It didn’t always lead to anything; he just liked to keep you in a near-constant state of arousal through teasing.

“That way,” Mando had purred in your ear once when you whined, “you’re always wet and ready for me, cyar’ika. That way, I can just… bend you over and slide right in.”

You had nearly cum at the thought alone, and so, he continued to be an absolute menace.

Now, he helps himself to handfuls of your breasts and lazily rolls each nipple between a thumb and forefinger. You concentrate on your breathing, having learned well enough that if you let yourself get worked up too soon, he was more likely to laugh and walk away, to let you marinate in it until you were begging for him.

“Cyar’ika,” he says, pitched low and dangerous in a way that never fails to make you feel like prey. Uh-oh.

“Yes, sir?”

He grins at the tell-tale waver in your voice. “I’d like to try something.”

“Oh no,” you breathe, shuddering.

“Oh no?” he says. “You don’t want to try something? Is that why your poor, empty cunt is dripping all over the bed?”

You whimper and bury your face in your hands. He pries them away immediately, holding both wrists in one hand.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, sir,” you say, knowing how he hated it when you hid from him. You're squirming, now, and can feel his hard cock against your lower back.

“What do you say, cyar’ika? Can I use you? I think you’ll like it.”

You nod without hesitation, despite the way your heart rabbits against your ribcage. You had enjoyed everything he's done so far, but every time he starts with “I’d like to try something,” it usually involves something very intense.

“Let me help you forget all about your bad day.” His hand slides down to your cunt, and your hips buck involuntarily, trying to reach him. He snatches his hand away and laughs. “Be patient,” he warns, before cracking his hand down against your pussy.

You yelp and whine, a pout turning your lips down.

“None of that, sweetheart, or do we need to start with a spanking?” He's teasing, but you hesitate. “We can, if that’ll help.”

You nod, your hands twisting at the sheets to keep them from obscuring his view as you flush from your ears to your chest.

“Such a good girl, telling me what you need. Lay across my lap,” he scoots so his back is flush with the wall. He’s so proud he doesn’t even make you beg for it.

As you settle, he strokes the soft skin of your back, one broad hand splayed across your shoulder blades. “Count for me, baby,” he says before bringing his hand down across your ass.

The strikes are firm but not sharp. Your count comes out in soft moans. He watches as your skin reddens a little, the way your plump flesh bounces. His cock is straining against its linen prison. It was going to have to wait a while, too. He had too much self-control, and it certainly wouldn’t be fair to you if he got to take the edge off before starting his little game.

Not that it was going to be fair to begin with.

You’re sprawled now, limbs askew, head hanging off his lap with your arms dangling.

He pauses. “Are you seriously falling asleep?”

“No,” you lie. “It’s just so nice.”

Ooh, mistake, he thinks, and brings his hand down hard for the last hit. It has the desired effect as you yelp and startle from his lap, betrayal across your face.

“Out,” he said, gesturing to the door and pulling his legs from under you so you have to scramble to make room.

You eye him suspiciously when you land on your old bedroll.

“Something you want to say?” he says, digging around in a cabinet with his back to you.

“No, sir.” You bite your tongue and try to see what he’s doing.

“Sit down, impatient girl,” he scolds.

You sit, legs crossed. You thought about kneeling, but with no indication how long you’d be there, you decided to get comfy instead. It’s then that you notice the ropes on either side of the bedroll, neatly coiled. Waiting.

“Don’t touch,” he says as you reach to feel.

“How do you do that?” you say, flinching back and folding your hands in your lap.

He chuckles. “I know you, cyar’ika. Turn around and face the fresher for a minute.” When you’re settled, he sits down behind you and takes one of the ropes. “Can I tie you up, baby?”

“Please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you mean, but your every muscle aches to find out what it feels like.

“You just sit there and relax.” He pauses. “No sleeping.”

You snort and shake your head. There was no need to worry about that. You’re too wound up now.

He begins to wind the cords around you, softly explaining what he’s doing. You would have been fine just letting him work, but to your surprise, it’s nice to know what’s happening. It helps that his voice is so, so pretty. And soft.

As he ties the diamond harness around your chest, he brushes his hands against your breasts, and you can’t help but squirm. He lets you. You won’t be able to, soon, anyway. He ties it off and shakes some of the ropes, running his finger under them to make sure they aren’t too tight.

“Oh,” you whisper, reaching up to feel the knot against your sternum, cupping your cradled breasts, and following the rope up to where he’s woven it over and under your collar.

He lets you explore for a moment. “How’s everything feel? Any pinching or tingling?”

“No, sir.” Your voice is so quiet he can barely hear it over the hum of the mechanics.

“Hands together behind your head.”

You lift them up, fingers knit, and he adjusts them so your neck is cradled in your palms. “Is that comfortable? Think you’ll be alright with them there for a while?”

You hum.

“Cyar’ika. Need you to stay with me right now and use your words.”

You shake your head a little bit, trying to clear away the haze even though all you want to do is sink into it. “Yes, sir. And yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Good girl. Hold still.” He starts first with your arms, threading the rope around to secure your forearm to your bicep. He winds a cuff around each wrist and gathers your hair into one fist.

You moan, less in pleasure than in contentment, so he takes an extra moment to run his fingers through your hair, pulling it neatly back. He slides a loop around it and braids the excess through, tying the end and securing it to your wrists.

Your breathing is ragged. Every brush of his fingers is sparking straight to your cunt, your thighs damp.

“Relax, baby. I’m only halfway done,” he says. He helps you turn around and gently lowers you until you’re lying flat, face up.

He looks you up and down and scraps some of his plan. He had something more elaborate in mind, but he doesn’t want you to slip into subspace yet, and it doesn’t seem like you can fight it for long.

Instead, he takes one leg and bends it to your chest before tying it there. With the other, he bends it over a low rung of the ladder, and secures it so you’re spread and vulnerable. Finally, he takes the loose ends sprawling from under the bedroll and weaves them across your torso, crisscrossing until he’s satisfied.

He checks each tie meticulously, having you affirm your comfort, before he sits back on his haunches. “Move.”

“What?”

“Wiggle, baby. Squirm around.”

You try. When you find that you can only wiggle in place, but can’t actually get any distance, you moan.

“You like this, cyar’ika?” He doesn’t need to ask. Your cunt, spread wide for him, is soaked. But he likes to make you say it anyway.

“Yes, sir.” You’re flushed, but you couldn’t hide from him if you tried.

“Good girl. You ready to try my idea?”

You open and close your mouth a few times. “This isn’t it?”

“It’s part of it, baby. It’s preparation. But last night at the market, I found something very interesting.” He holds up a small canister. “There’s a plant that grows on the mountainsides there with a peculiar side effect, if inhaled. If I take this, I’ll be insatiable for hours.”

Your breathing is shallow, eyes wide as you stare at the little tin.

“Remember, cyar’ika. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I won’t be upset with you if we don’t use it.”

“What’ll happen if we do?” You’re curious. “You’re already insatiable.”

“No, pretty girl. It’ll leave me hard. I’ll be able to cum over and over. Y’know, like you get to?”

“Oh. Yes, please.”

He laughs. “I was thinking we could play a little game. You like a little competition, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod, feeling a little suspicious again. You enjoy when he makes you suffer for his (and your) pleasure, but that doesn’t stop you from getting nervous.

“I want to see which one of us can make the other one cum more.”

“Oh,” that sounds fun, actually, so what’s the catch? “Wait. Hey, hang on. You tied me down.”

He laughs. When he’s like this, it’s just on the side of condescending that makes your clit throb. “You’ll have your mouth. And I’ll have everything else.”

“That’s cheating!”

He runs his hands over your breasts, pinching and squeezing. “That’s the point. Don’t worry, cyar’ika,” he strokes your cheek. “You kind of win either way, don’t you?”

He stands up. “It’s up to you. You say the word, and I’ll put this away. Plenty of other ways I can use you like this.”

You look up at him, a look in your eye he can’t quite place. “I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

“I trust you. And I want to make you cum. A lot.”

He grins. “Greedy thing. I’ll be right back, then.” He doesn’t want to open the container in the same room, doesn’t want to risk dosing you somehow. One of you has to be of sound mind for this, and he knows in his bones that if you use your safeword, he’ll stop. But he’s not sure you’d use it if you needed to, were you to ingest it.

It takes a few minutes, but by the time he returns to you, he feels warm all over. He had been half-hard already from groping you while you were tied up so prettily. But now, he aches.

“Can I blindfold you, cyare?” He’s breathing heavily.

“Please, sir,” you beg immediately, fairly certain of what that will mean. And you’re right.

As soon as the cloth is secure, you hear the soft hiss as he removes the helmet. He doesn’t make you wait, mercifully, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You moan and try to lean up for more, but your tether doesn’t let you.

He smiles, you can feel it against your lips, and you think you might lose your mind. You need him. Now. But he backs away.

He shushes you when you whine at the loss of his warmth, and settles himself over you.

“Oh, stars,” you groan as you realize what’s happening. He lowers his hips, letting the tip of his cock brush over your lips as he bows his head and parts you with his fingers. He dips his cock into your waiting mouth just as he licks the first stripe from your clit to your cunt.

It kicks off a chain reaction. You moan around his cock, and the vibrations pull a moan from him, as well. When you try to take him deeper, you realize you’ve been thoroughly tricked. You’re completely at his mercy, can only have as much of him as he lets you. Meanwhile, he’s teasing a finger at your entrance and sucking softly on your clit.

Suddenly, he pulls away, but slides his cock deeper in your throat. “Oh, and you can cum whenever you want. You don’t need to ask right now.”

Fuck.

It doesn’t take him long to draw the first one out of you. He lets you have his cock the whole time, softly thrusting as you suck and work your tongue. When he finally slides a thick finger in you, all the way to the knuckle, you cum. He moans into your cunt, pushing his cock down deep into your throat. He knows you like to choke on it when you cum, which—you realize later—was actually evil. Because it knocks a second orgasm out of you as you gag and struggle.

He pulls almost completely out, moaning as you suck hard to try to keep the head in your mouth. “That’s two,” he says, but it breaks into another moan as you flick your tongue over the slit. “That’s it, pretty girl, I’m almost there.”

He resumes fucking you with his finger, sliding another one in for good measure. He isn’t going to fight his orgasm. It’s not like he needs to try to hold out, and you deserve to get what you worked so hard for. So he thrusts roughly into you and spills down your throat.

He expects you to count or tease.

But you don’t. You gasp out, “Thank you, sir,” before opening your mouth again to wait for him.

“Dank farrik, cyar’ika,” he groans. “You’re going to kill me.” He slides his still-hard cock back into your mouth, and the way you take him is rapturous.

He resumes licking and nipping at you, kissing and sucking bruises into your thighs. You don’t notice the particulars of what he’s doing. Everything is soft and blissful. You’re only vaguely aware when you cum again, a gentle, rolling thing that makes you shake all over.

The world around you has narrowed. You might be floating, but thankfully, Mando has tied you nice and tight, so you don’t have to worry about it. You always love his cock, but right now, you think you might die if he stopped fucking your face.

The exquisite pleasure is just on the right side of painful. There’s a rushing sound in your ears, like a waterfall. You lose count of how many times he rewards you with his cum, how many times you cum just from feeling him twitch and spurt down your throat. Your jaw aches, and you feel raw all over. It’s bliss.

By the time the drugs wear off, Mando thinks maybe, maybe he’s too old for this. His back aches, and his knees lock up. And he’s so, so tired. But he’s still warm all over, and you’re so soft and beautiful.

You whine when he pulls away, but it’s a weak, soft thing. You’re too far gone, too worn out for more. He gives you another kiss before sliding the helmet back on.

“Cyar’ika, I’m going to take the blindfold off now.” He’s turned out the lights in the hull, but the adjustment might be too much still.

“Mm.” Everything is too heavy to move.

He slips the cloth off your head and warns you to hold still.

As if you would move if you could. That would be so, so much work.

You barely notice as he slides the knife, cutting the rope away from your body. You’re both absolutely filthy, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even think about getting cleaned up. Instead, he lifts you up and somehow manages to ease you both into the bunk. He brings the canteen to your lips and makes sure you take slow, easy sips.

Running his hands gently over you, he both checks to make sure skin didn’t break and admires the ridges of the rope where they’ve been tattooed into you. You’re limp, curled toward him, and he thinks you’re already asleep.

But then you nestle closer, pressing soft kisses to his bare chest, and he’s overcome again by gratitude, by awe at what he gets to have with you.

“Hey,” you whisper, later into the night. He stirs a little, too groggy to open his eyes. “Who won?” you ask.

“No idea,” he murmurs, and pulls you back into his chest to sleep.

*title from "My Blue Heaven" by Taking Back Sunday.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #kinktober 2023 #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #these two have me in a choke hold I'm sorry #these are so long because I go to write pwp and all the sudden there's feelings and budgets and ship maintenance #corazondebeskar-reads and writes #coming in just under the wire it's still the 8th here #make it hurt verse

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demonsfate · 3 months

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Had a convo with sb on tweeter and altho it started as a sorta-argument (not rly), it did ended amicably with us semi-agreeing with each other, but also acknowledging the story can go any way. But we were debating if Jin and Kaz would actually be relevant in the next game and we brought up the point if Jin could still have the devil gene. I pointed out it's sussy that Jin still has the tat, it felt like an intentional decision to leave him with the tat in the ending. That person countered by saying "oh, it's just a cosmetic, the tat is too recognizable of a design for him". And it's like... big maybe but like. I don't think it'd matter much if they removed the tattoo just for the ending...? I mean, they removed Kazuya's red eyes - but you can still see those red eyes when you play him or in the main menu screen. so... I don't know why they wouldn't have removed Jin's tat just for the ending?

Jin also acknowledges the devil gene being gone ...

But he still has the tattoo.

Here, he's definitely talking to his mother. I'm sure we'll meet again, him acknowledging she's not there.

Then he says this, talking aloud again when... nobody's around? Who the heck could he be talking to? He acknowledged his mother isn't around, so he can't be returning with her. Is he talking to the bird? "Everybody" refers to his friends, but who's "us"? We don't see Xiao or anyone around. So this leads me to believe he's talking to Devil.

DJ's status is set as "unknown" on his wiki. But he does, curiously, have a cause of death

The same one as DK and Azazel. But like I said, Jin talking aloud when seemingly nobody else is around and the tat remaining (whilst Kazuya's red eyes don't)... it's just suspicious to me. And I'm not inhaling copium, DJ can stay Gone Forever if he wants, but I just don't think we can totally rule out he's alive bc of these parts of the ending...

#✏️ - ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏsᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ // (ooc)#// and well... y'all KNOW regardless i'm writing DJ as if he lived #// but in a weakened state #// just bc ... well ... dj's a main muse here. just as main as jin rly #// so it'd be weird to not be able to write him in main verse 'cos he's dead :/#// so IF dj IS canonically dead ... that's another way THIS blog is canon divergent lol #// y'know if he's dead in main verse - i'd probs won't get the chance to write him much haha #// but for now ... i just say him actually still being around isn't out of question #// y'know?

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randomnameless · 2 months

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what do you think would realistically edelgerd's fate post AG?

We know Doylist wise she was Supreme Puppet'd to have her, somehow, survive (when we know how she reacts to military defeat in AM!) and removing all of her agency - Supreme Puppet was Puppet'd, so she cannot be hold accountable for what she did as Lobotogard, or with her regressed state, cannot be accountable the things she did with her mind intact.

I've already ranted about this special plot device to make sure the waifu escapes the axe and its sexist undertones, but damn if thinking about it to this day pisses me to no ends.

Faced with Regressed!Leader, Dimitri dgaf and moves on (or rather, away from her, reminiscing of AM - he has other things to do than to linger on his relationship with Supreme Leader).

I'd say -

Dimtri dgaf and leaves her to her own devices (which would be a nod to the "parley"? Now that Supreme Leader became one of the "weaks" what is she going to do? Bootstraps or rely on a support system she so much decried?) and move to Enbarr to put an end to the War.

But thinking in more serious terms?

His bannermen, friends and people wouldn't settle for anything else than Supreme Leader's death (maybe not on the gates on Enbarr?). She's the one who started this war and had so many people killed in her imperialist bid, so the only way Supreme Leader escapes death is with the Church.

Now, Supreme Puppet'd by Thales and maybe acknowledging Supreme Leader's second crust, Rhea might be more partial to her - she had been used as a plaything by Agarthans (hopefully she developped her racist tendencies after the experiments?) - and could see her as a victim.

On the other hand, she did start this war, and had more agency than expected given how she petitionned the CoS to war against the Agarthans who infiltrated her Empire - and yet, she still launched her attack on the monastery of her own free will.

Rhea is a compassionate person (Yuri still exists even after killing her knights!) so I think, with all things considered - Supreme Leader's status as a victim of Agarthans, Supreme Puppet and Lobotogard, but also, the war she declared and planned, sacking Garreg Mach, attacking the CoS both spiritually (the Southern Church thing was meant to be a direct "contradiction?" to what she preaches?) and martially, and MAGA > Peace - I'd say Rhea'd agree on not killing Supreme Leader, but at the only condition that she remains with the CoS, in something like her sentence will be to rebuild what she destroyed and mend the wounds she caused so that she might have a different outlook on Fodlan and its people (aka, not going all "i don't mind sacrificing them to reach my goals") when she will remember what she did/who she was, and/or will not become the same "tyrant" she was when she will "grow up" (mentally speaking?).

But that's at the only condition that she never gets to rule anything ever again or hold any kind of political power returning to Adrestia/Enbarr - if those conditions aren't met, she will be executed.

(and maybe to appease the people she's now supposed to work with, Rhea will lend her some old bottle of hairdye, maybe people will not see her as the former emperor who bled the continent for her whims, but as someone who is living a new life)

Rhea might thus "request custody" of Supreme Puppet and while the Kingdom might want her dead, the Church, as the main victim of the war, can have the last say (besides Dimitri might be relieved that Supreme Leader will not be executed), however, the Church asks to everyone present to tell their people that the "Supreme Leader who declared this war of unification died and is no more", maybe taking her crown and Aymr away, as proof she's "dead".

It sounds a bit too merciful coming from Rhea, when we see her in Tru Piss and with her history as Seiros the Warrior - but post!AG!Rhea imo is in a different mood, first of all, with Thales gone there are no people who will target Nabateans because of their race (so no genocide PTSD anymore?) and/or try to make new relics, and unlike the events of FE16, Rhea spent the last few years living with humans who demonstrated they could be trustworthy and actually helped her when she was in need (tfw Rhea doesn't know about Dimitro).

I can see her having more faith in humans and a future in Fodlan for everyone post!AG, as Dimitri and the Kingdom people seem to be trustworthy, than in FE16 when all of the events we play through in WC are basically triggering her genocide trauma (people hunting bones and crest stones, killing Jerry, turning her beloved wards in demonic beasts, some people targeting her for no plausible reason (unless the Western Church knew she had pointy ears?), Hresvelg becoming the new Nemesis, etc...)

That being said...

If Clout tries, during the epilogue, to take a shot at Rhea - when people are celebrating the end of the war - I cannot see things not turning sour for him.

Granted, if you want realism, Clout and GW cannot function because they expect the people involved to be completely stupid, but for this AU's sake, let's say Clout and Dimitro had their heart to heart in Zahrofl, he holds her at Failnaught range and demands her death/resignation/removal of her church.

If he shots and kills her (because Rhea would have dropped her guard, thinking she is surrounded by allies!), I cannot see anyone/anything preventing Claude from being dismembered/slaughtered in the seconds after Rhea's death - not even Dimitro because, hey, Clout said he will accept the consequences of his actions to "change" Fodlan, right? - by Church forces, Kingdom forces and, if we want to push the realism card, even Alliance forces (why the fuck did he do that? Maybe it's a weird doppelganger like those dark mages use! Or Erwin will behead him himself - sure this guy did that, but he doesn't represent the Alliance!).

In the chaos and confusion following Rhea's death, Supreme Leader is executed ("if she never started her war, nothing like this would have ever happened") and Fodlan is fucked when Sothis eventually pops up.

If Clout only holds Rhea at "Failnaught range" and she wonders wtf and asks him to explain - while the entire host of people from, again, the Kingdom, the CoS and KoS, the former BL and maybe some peeps from the GD and Leicester are there - Clout gives his bonker

"Who steals your freedom and gives you an endless list of duties and obligations simply because you have a Crest? Who forces you and your friends into a bunch of unwanted marriages and positions of power? The church even forbids any official contact with outside regions! Not exactly great for Faerghus, right? Being as close to Sreng and Albinea as you are."

reasons, Rhea's first reaction might be to crush him (because now she's on guard!) but if Dimitro says this is not a matter partaining to Faerghus and would rather stay aside (which would throw a wrench in Rhea's previous belief that humanity can be trusted again!) the CoS/Kos, Kingdom and Alliance people might just call crap and bullshit and debunk his baseless accusations (rekindling Rhea's faith in people and Fodlan?) from Annette telling him that they already trade with Albinea, Duscur generals and even Dedue telling him they witnessed the Church helping them regardless of their place of birth, Ingrid saying that her marriage to Glenn had not be organised or planned by the Church, but out of the affection they both had for each other and Ashe telling him those obligations and duties he seems to resent don't exist because he has a crest, but out of a genuine desire to help people.

Maybe we can add Judith wondering wtf is going on with Clout-boy, has he forgotten people get responsabilities and duties because they want them or because Nobility exists well beyond Fodlan's borders? "And I thought you had more common sense than this!"

A Goneril bannerman/loldier might add that the Archbishop asked them to treat Almyran as something else than nuisances and parasites when she came to visit and left with an Almyran kid in tow, but hey - they always attack them for no reason and create strife in Goneril for no reason, haven't they attacked just before the Academy closed?

Basically everyone debunking his claims, Clout realising that said claims were sprouted from his ass so he gets some tissue and wipes it clean.

Clout then relents (tfw no allies to support him) and the Alliance's roundtable finally vote to elect a branch member of the Riegan fam as head of the House - Clout leaves Failnaught and departs "somewhere far away".

(maybe he returns as Almyra's King later on, or as a crown prince, with a treaty/offer of peace, wishing for prosperity between the two lands).

-> all jokes aside and in a more serious setting, even with Dimitro not outwardly condemning him, Clout's course of action would be frowned upon by every party - Alliance included - and depending on his involvment, Dimitro himself might be challenged by his vassals/friends "Sure it's not about Faerghus' safety, but are we really going to let this guy target and ice and bring more chaos by eliminating our ally - who repaid our hospitality with kindness and supported our war efforts - when the Alliance refused to assist us when the Empire swore to Make Adrestia Great Again and warred against us?"

Granted, in this more serious setting, Dimitro doesn't exist because the plot doesn't bend backwards to accomodate Clout so...

Even if Clout doesn't try to ice Rhea asap and waits maybe 8 months after GM's recovery and the end of the war, I cannot see the Lords of the Alliance - when they can try to do "business as usual" with the former Adrestia lands - endorse a military campaing against the Church to, uh, decalcify Fodlan's current order to put YOLO in place. Clout suggesting this is basically handing to Erwin/anyone reason enough to depose him from his seat as Riegan's representative (the alliance has more to win with rebuilding Adrestia/Fodlan than to wage a pointless war that will alienate everyone and leave their backs open to an Almyran attack), and he either runs away to Almyra or dies in a pointless attempt to start a civil war/rebellion to garner troops to target the Church.

For sure this looks like an ideal "and everything ends good AU!" but in a more serious setting, where people have common sense and don't suddenly hold idiot plot balls to make sure Clout seems to have a point... his POV doesn't hold under scrutiny and no one can normally follow him, unless they have another agenda (Make Leicester Great Again?)

#anon #replies #3 nopes #tbh if you want a serious setting in Nopes #erase GW from the plot #while I can see an alliance with Adrestia I can't see the Federation existing without serious civil unrest in Leicester #we bow to no king and no emperor cannot be overthrown in one night by Clout who listened to Barney #in b4 Supreme Leader when she recovers her memories still want to throw a continental war to unify the world #it will depend on how far in MAGA + lizards bad Supreme Leader was before the experiments #Rhea's anger at Supreme Leader is qualmed in this AG AU bcs she realises Supreme Leader was puppet'd by Agarthans #and yet actions have consequences #let her heal and help the ones she maimed #what happens in Adrestia though? I guess it's under Faerghus' jurisdiction #and it either becomes a hell hole or is a temporary hell hole until some random becomes Emperor or tris to make a government #maybe a republic? Even if we know how they end in the FE verse...#sorry anon i disgressed on clout when you asked about supreme puppet but #they go hand in hand in this game #and i happened on a fanfic i'm not fond of so here goes

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gaytedlasso · 2 years

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well boy howdy here we go again ✨

Time to celebrate the fact that I am still a heavily active Destiel blog in 2022 and that 2,000 people decided that this was a valid decision. Love you all.

Let's party then! I learned my lesson last time about asking for angst because y'all came for my throat... that being said, angst is still invited to this. Nsfw work is the guest of honor. In fact, daring you to do your worst and test my nsfw immunity. Hmm maybe I didn't learn my lesson last time... My subtle nsfw prompts are listed last & in italics below ~

To join the party, tag your work #justcastiel2k or @ me

Aug 25: light - home - what if it was easy - deep

Aug 26: smoke - highway - if thy be a man - yeehaw

Aug 27: blood - trueform - what does it mean - grace

Aug 28: holy water - religion - I would be willing - knees

lawboy notes:

- due to personal circumstances addressed here, I do not want anything that focuses on the subject of grief that is not resolved or is not mostly addressed in canon. ie: widower arc is fine because we know Cas returns in canon, though including his return is preferred if it's a fic. 15x18 confession scene is fine. Anything post 15x18 is fine as long as it includes or alludes to Cas returning.

- no memory loss. no heaven endgame.

- the poems and songs linked are there for further inspiration and can be used in your work, or the phrases may also be used for an entirely different interpretation. If you quote the poems, the original must be credited & linked.

- any prompt can be used for nsfw creations and they must be tagged #minors dni or #mdni

- minors may participate, but are not allowed to use the nsfw prompts, create any explicit work, and must filter #mdni and #minors dni. you also don't have to follow me to participate in this

- no w* or w*nkl*ne, minors/adults, non-con

Can't wait to celebrate with you all! Feel free to send me an ask if you have any questions.

#god this is insane I'm just still here having a good time 22 months later #couple whatever notes #I’m obsessed with religious imagery and hymns and verses and all of that #don't hesitate to make fluffy and fun stuff too! give it all to meee #if y'all make smut literally do your worst I am immune but want it all #also. a/b/o is fine #sorry for all the rules/notes I just had some important stuff to address #my header turned out eerie as fuck and I love it #justcastiel2k

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unforestalledreturn · 9 months

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❛ What do you see when you look into my eyes? ❜

|| Angsty Asks Status: Always Accepting

Brutal, the battlefield never truly relented. Every SOLDIER, every infantry unit, every person that stepped on it knew that the nightmares and memories were not buried with their enemies and friends. They were specters that would haunt them until they joined the flesh heaps in the ground. Even on the way home, a journey one would expect to be one of relief was anything but. If one had not passed out on the train or helicopter, they were left with their thoughts.

Evidently, even the stoic Sephiroth had questions left.

Afterall, Genesis saw the way the men looked when their mighty hero swooped in to change the tides from a near catastrophic defeat into a consummate success. And he watched as their relief transformed into awe, and from awe to horror as they realized what one man could do when their hundreds could not. That they, if roles reversed, had no chance against this monster of a man.

The Silver Demon of Wutai was a name used by both sides.

Beloved, then hated… and alone.

“Hm?” Genesis softly hummed, expression serene as though not there was not a care in the world that could possibly disrupt him. But always, those stormy, dull mako eyes always withheld a darker depth. “What, do you want a compliment?” He teased, leaning in to give a thorough inspection, as though he had never been captivated by those predatory feline slits that could make even the most confident feel like prey.

“You are unlike anyone else.” Smiling, he leaned back in his seat, body loosely jostling along with the wobble of the train. Through the corner of his eye, he maintained contact with Sephiroth. “Don’t worry…” He offered gently, trailing, as though there were more.

But it would never be something he said out loud. …You won’t be alone for long.

#saishuu-heiki #verse: I'm Still Here #I offer some soft and sad

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fiepige · 7 months

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Summary:

“HOLY SH-” Miles and Gwen simultaneously turned to cover Pav’s mouth so as to not alert the creature in the middle of the carnage below them. The creature either didn’t hear him or it was too preoccupied with whatever it was doing. To his regret Miles soon realized what that was, as another wet snapping noise broke the silence once more. The creature was crouched down on all fours over what Miles assumed was the body of an officer, though it was so mutilated that it was hard to tell for sure. Its head was buried into the chest of the body beneath it, another wet snapping noise emerging as it pulled out a couple of ribs between its bloodied jaws... Or The Spider-Gang goes looking for Hobie. They don’t like what they find.

Hey guys, remember how I mentioned that I was working on a Venom!Hobie fic a while ago? Well the draft is done and so is the first chapter!

#this is my first fic so I'm kinda nervous but also happy to finally be able to share it lol #trying to improve my writing cause I still feel pretty insecure about it #but I'm putting myself and my writing out there and seeing what'll happen lol #also this thing was beta read by google translate so please let me know if there's something I need to correct ^^'#I just love the idea of Hobie with a symbiote so I wanted to put more of that content out there #also comming up with a name for the fic was HARD lol #settled with this one cause I did not know what to call it but I didn't want that to be what was holding me back from posting it lol #oh well here goes nothing <3 #hobie brown #spider punk #miles morales #spider man #gwen stacy #spider gwen #pavitr prabhakar #spider man india #Venom!Hobie #the spider gang #across the spider verse #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #my fic #my post

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cherrywhite · 7 months

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Everyone loves to talk about hayward's possible death as if hembry didn't outright foreshadow it:

"Not like Hayward, who stands beside [Paige]. He can die early on, after the lights come back up. As a kind of punctuation, to raise the stakes. This is his only purpose here."

Please I have to believe that Paige interrupting Hembry's story and ultimately changing the ending from the tragedy it was supposed to be is also foreshadowing. That her prayer to their god — her actions, her choices — can safeguard against whatever tragedy the narrative is hurtling towards.

#the silt verses #remembers jon ware's “horror as a genre basically the sign on the door saying Bad Things Will Happen”#me [through tears] and here's how the silt verses can still have a happy ending /doubtful /lying to myself /delusional #here's how silt verses fun beach episode happy ending with all of them on a roadtrip can still win!!#HERE'S HOW 'WE FIND OUT EVERYONE'S FAVORITE MUSIC GENRE' CAN STILL WIN #hi can you tell I'm just constantly thinking silt verses 24/7 <333 #love talking silt verses am begging all my friends to listen and that I'd relisten to it alongside them ue ue

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f1uckinghell · 9 months

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I love you pack kids, I love you max and Daniel being in perfect love, I love you fated mates carlando, I love you triad, I love you friends to lovers Michael and Charles, I love you italy sex vacations, I love you too many dogs, I love you one million AUs, I love you omega pussy, I love you prequel to the sequel, I love you headcanons I can't memorize, I love you treehouse, I love you unrealistic farm, I love you shameless sex scenes, I love you lore that nobody but me cares about, I love you writing what I want when I want it, I love you faithful readers and askers and discord members, I love you F1, I love you Virtues Verse ♥️

#♥️#virtues verse #thank you to everyone who's still here #I'm sorry I'm not active atm #but it does mean a lot to me #and so do you

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