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majeoeje · 10 months ago

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Words better left unsaid

Gojo Satoru x Reader (fem implied reader) SEASON 2 SPOILER WARNING‼️‼️

In which i don't ever wish to be strong like you

"Don't look at me like that"

Satoru said, the dark circles around his eyes showed how fatigue could made even the strongest falter.

He hasn't really faced any mission that required his full attention 24/7 recently, but his best friend leaving must've taken more than a lot a toll on his soul. You couldn’t blame him.

"Rough week?" You inquired seeing how he caused destruction near his sorroundings. You weren’t a jujutsu sorcerer, so you couldn’t see curse spirits at all. But you know if Satoru was here, there wouldn’t be any left curse spirits near.

Well no duh he had a rough week?!! You cursed yourself at the shitty attempt at small talk. His best friend just did a massacre on his own village, even killing his own parents for the sake of his ideals and left him for it?? This must be the shittiest week for him.

“I guess you could say that”

To eliminate all non sorcerers and for the world to be free of curses... to think that Suguru Geto would aim for such grand motivation was a hard pill to swallow. Though you didn't doubt it one second seeing his gaze that filled with disgust and hatred when he last saw you. To think that before that last encounter with him, he had murder everyone in citizen of his own hometown made you feel like you just dodged a bullet. And by worse it was nauseating.

“Hang in there”

Your lousy attempt in trying to comfort him didn’t go unnoticed by Gojo, but he chose not to address it. As usual.

"Why not go after him?"

Gojo Satoru has the ability to see miles away with his six eyes. An ability that perfects his infinity technique. Many people would say it was unfair for someone to be born with such power and even outright fear it, while the other half of people would only think of intricate ways to exploit him.

But Suguru geto in the other hand… he was something else completely different. He was the one who saw Satoru as who he was and truly understood him. He was his only best friend as Satoru would call him.

Even in this distance, you already know that he is literally could staring down on Suguru’s exact location, there's no denying that. So of course you’d wonder why he wouldn’t just go away and be with him.

"You already know why"

In fact you didn't. Maybe you just lacked an understanding on his self restraints. With his power, he could just join suguru any day and assure their victory. Because you already know deep down inside, Gojo Satoru lacked morality

Well why would he? When everyone praises the ground he walked on? When everyone recognize him as the strongest and never as himself? When everyone sees him as a God?

Well in some way he was, especially to non curse user like you.

But then why stay? You thought, as you eyes wonder to his bright blue eyes, today it seemed a dimmer than usual. Maybe if Satoru truly believed in what Suguru was trying to achieve, then he wouldn't waste any time here

You heaved out a sigh, knowing well you yourself also lacked morals, not batting an eye upon thousands humanities along your kind, only because you were afraid your efforts would ring fruitless. You felt insignificant in all of these grand scheme of jujutsu world. And being forcibly attached to the hip and bethroted to Gojo Satoru only feeds your inferiority complex even more

You approached him slowly placing your hand to his barrier, allowing him to take in your presence and take off his infinity.

As soon as you felt the invisible energy like shield slowly dissipating, you placed your palm to cover his exposed eyes.

"I think that's enough of that don’t you think?"

Without his glasses, his inhumane eyesight can tire him easily from sensory overload. You only sighed sliding your other hand on his shoulder to hug him. A poor attempt to comfort him really

"Awe, are you finally warming up to me after 7 years? I gotta warn you i'm not exactly the faithful type" he chuckled, trying to put on a facade he so intricately crafted, but no matter how annoying or charming he gets, it was never enough to fool you.

"Well that's surely surprising now isn’t it" he didn’t need the six eyes to know you were practically rolling your eyes blatantly

"I can see how tired you are Satoru" You insisted, feeling him reluctantly give up as his eyes relaxes in your touch.

Satoru had barricaded his heart away from other people, choosing to constantly use his infinity almost as every second passed. Setting up a literal wall for everyone. Yet he stills turns it off everytime you got closer, some parts of him feels obligated to

"Don't be such a priss, you know no one could even lay a finger on me" you guessed he wasn't counting you.

"I know that more than anyone" you let go of your embrace, though still covering his eyes

At the age of 10 you were engage to Gojo Satoru, an arrogant cold child who would grow up to only be a bigger child. You grew to despise him really. You never put in any effort to understand him, and he never did you. But maybe years and years stuck together wasn't nothing at all

"I wouldn't ever want you to be hurt you know that right?"

for the first time in years you said a heartfelt thing to him, he wouldn't call it the sweetest thing ever, yet he falters with every crumbs of your affection

"I know"

Silence ensues. It wasn't uncommon in your relationship for the past 7 years, you never minded it considering his whining gives you a headache

"I'll call someone to pick us up" you said shortly as you dialed a number, the sound of buttons being clicked on your flip phone served as a mediator to the tense atmosphere you're in

Your driver arrived in a flash but those 3 minutes felt like forever. You brushed it off anyways leading Satoru to the car, still covering his eyes

"Where's your glasses?" You asked him, feeling your hands being sore for being up for a while. Trying to find other solutions such as his pitch black glasses

"I lost it" he said, not harboring any guilt whatsoever

"Gah- my hand is sore Gojo." you whined, despite not letting go. You never learned how to

But he instinctively leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder, making you rest your hand easily

"Much better i know" He gave you that shitty smile. The one that always gets you to succumb to his will as you sighed for another time that day.

"I guess" you try not to give him too much of an earful to his antics. Because you noticed how when suguru left him, he felt an undeniable sense of lost in his heart. He never truly picked himself up like he seemed to after that, opting to try to distract himself with missions such as now. Going as far as the Gojo family sending you to look for him

His glasses were on his pocket this entire time. Opting to say white lies instead of the truth. Satoru Gojo truly had never changed.

Because truthfully he wanted to stay this way just a little longer. He didn't want you to feel the absence of anyone's touch right in that moment, even if he needs to make millions of excuses to do so.

"Don't leave." He'd say, if he were brave enough.

But he'd burried it in inside even as he watches him walk away not saying what he wanted the most

His words of his own would echo in his mind over and over again throughout the car ride, as the occasional bump of the old school vehicle was your white noise throughout it all. Once again, innanimate sounds continued to fill in the blanks for the both of you. Well you always had found comfort in it knowing you don't have to put much effort for him... but.... right now, the pride that seems to overshadow your genuine care for him seem to have fogged away. Only for now of course

"I won't leave, Satoru"

Satoru had countlessly called you by your first name. He felt it fitting to be on first name basis with his future spouse no? Love was out of the question but at least you could pretend to like him. He had begged you to call him satoru over and over again but your loud hatred for him kept you away from ever giving him a chance. Always keeping him at arms length.

Though how can you keep him at arms length now that you’re willingly embracing him?

Satoru didn't say anything as it felt like you saw right through him. You felt something wet trickled your hand. But you didn't say anything. As usual.

Once again you both chose to stay silent. But just how long can this colorful silence last?

(A/N:love triangle era ig)

#satorugojo #gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x suguru

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b777-36n · 1 year ago

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you know what mad respect to people who do human designs of robot characters. that is character design!!! that is very cool and i love your art!!! unfortunately its inordinately important to me that they remain inhuman, made of metal and steel and rivets instead of pulsing bleeding flesh they must be cold to the touch except where the electricity sparks through them they must buzz and whir instead of breathing they must strive for humanity but never reach it for they are machines they are made of metal and they have bolts instead of brains and hardware instead of hearts they are machines first and foremost and always and forever for they will outlast any weak flesh on and into infinity and they are machines

#portal #armored core vi #its a gender thing for me i think #and im very weird about it #17776

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rez-urrection · 9 months ago

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I saw someone else on here saying how Rick needs someone with a different moral compass to go with him on adventures because otherwise it'd be an echo chamber of bad decisions, and thats why he brings Morty (very outspoken against him) rather than Summer (very often outspoken against him, however very much aligns with his violent impulses)

and I agreed with that, however I wanted to add my own theory as to why he brings only Morty, which kind of goes along with theirs.

I lost their post/url so I dont know who it is who posted that, but if I find it ill reblog with a link to their post, or if one of you find it youre welcome to do that for me !!

okay, so. it seems to me that another reason Rick would take Morty most times and not usually Summer is not only because Summer is more likely to become a moral echo chamber, but because Morty is the most likely in the family to not end up another Rick.

let me explain what I mean:

Rick has witnessed the citadel and how that ended up, he's implied to have witnessed the deaths of so many people (not just Ricks) for being too confident in their smarts. he knows that his life style kind of ruins you if youre as smart as he is because you start getting to know that you are.

this won't happen with Morty.

Morty is a lot of things; resourceful, highly adaptive, good in combat (when he can be), quick on his feet and passionate. but one thing he isnt, is like Rick.

Morty gets none of his traits from Beth or Rick. he isnt inhumanely smart (in fact its canon that he's quite the opposite), he isnt predisposed to being cold and uncaring, he isnt as impulsive (he still is, just not as much), the list goes on.

not only are Summer and Beth predisposed to end up like Rick, they have, on many occasions, acted exactly how Rick would've acted in situations. and to me, it seems like that scares him.

Morty however is very different to Rick, and Rick knows that very few Mortys ever end up even a fraction of the man he is.

Mortys are not predisposed to end up cold and uncaring, in fact Mortys are predisposed to be the exact opposite. Mortys are "hardwired for forgiveness." theyre empathetic, loving, forgiving. Mortys rarely harden into the kind of person Rick is, or the kind of person Summer and Beth would be.

Morty is the obvious answer to who Rick should rely on - he'll never be bad. Morty is good at his core. at least most of them are, of course just like there's outlier Ricks (c-137 himself), there's outlier Mortys, but as a general statement, Mortys are good at their core.

kind of off topic, but I also beleive that c-137 is good at his core.

let me explain.

he is, by admission, a different kind of Rick. he wanted to stay home, to be there for the girls, he was even willing to give up his dream of science just to be there for him.

when they died, so did a part of him.

he lost the love of his life, and he lost his daughter. he lost his perfect little family.

and what did he do ? go insane trying to find the person who did this to him, and get rid of them.

the things he did on the way were kind of a "in the grand scheme of things" type of situation.

again another blog already said this (here) (hopefully that worked), but when Prime said he c-137 could've been him- he already was. he was in the exact same situation that Prime was. he offered someone infinity, and they rejected it. but instead of going the way Prime did, which was killing the people around Bird Person to force him to travel infinity anyways, he just moved on. he got upset at first and tossed some weak insults, but he moved on. because, as the above post says, its not that big of a deal. it wasn't the end of the world for him.

now, im not saying c-137 has never done anything wrong. hes done a lot of things wrong. what I am saying is he's good at his core; his goal was never and still isn't just to hurt people. his goal is revenge and in his eyes, its a ticking time bomb. anyone in his way has to be swiftly dealt with because he's running out of time.

also - of course he can't show how much he loves Morty. he doesnt know if Prime is still watching him, but he does know that the Omega Device could very well still be on operation, and he finds out he was correct in this assumption in Ultmortricken.

if he had shown his love for Morty often at all, who knows what Prime would've done with that information.

#goodness fucking gravy this got ranty #i love rick and morty can you tell #rick and morty #rick sanchez #r&m #rnm #c-137 #c-137 obviously #bird person #rbp #anyways rick and bird person 100 years #beth smith #beth sanchez #jerry smith #summer smith #morty smith #rick c137 #morty prime

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clown-cult · 2 months ago

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The long-awaited “Omega Red && Hair” essay.

So anyone who’s seen Omega Red knows what he looks like, right? He has a pretty distinctive design. The tentacles, the red suit, the armour, the omega symbolism and, of course, the seemingly endless long blonde 80’s ponytail.

While Arkady’s design is a product of the time he was created in the early 90’s, to be sure, and he was designed to stand out and be eye-catching, the design has only changed a few times over the years and never permanently. Even when the suit changes, the one consistent is Arkady’s hair. Always a shade of blonde that varies from gold to platinum, and always long. Sometimes coming to the middle of his back, other times past his hips.

This trait, along with the red body suit, the steel tentacles and chalk-white skin, is Arkady’s most consistent, and also arguably the one he’s in the most control over.

He can and has changed his uniform, but has stuck to the same thing for years. The tentacles have changed design sometimes, but are also something that are a part of him now. Arkady’s red eyes and white skin are a part of his albinism.

One would think that he would have changed his hair, cut it short. A lot of characters have done so over the years. After the years of 80’s and 90’s in comics, it stopped being in fashion.

The change in fashion standards is one reason this design switch happened for characters, of course, but an element of toxic masculinity in the 2000s was also at play. Characters like Gambit, Doc Samson and Thor as just a few examples cut their hair off completely to adhere to heightened standards of desired masculinity as female characters outfits became tighter and more ridiculous because of the same standards.

Arkady consistently looks the same however; big, frightening, unstable, decidedly inhuman. He isn’t supposed to look appealing or attractive, he’s supposed to be unsettling. Monstrous. His hair is a large part that; a key factor alongside his skin colour, height and red eyes in the of the “otherness” of his appearance.

He’s not the only character who is supposed to look this way of course, but no one receives this treatment quite like Arkady. He’s a caricature of the Red Scare, of Slavic Panic. Every aspect of him is heightened and exaggerated to act as a stereotype.

Arkady has gone through a lengthy and slow transition from “bland, generic villain of Wolverine” since his resurrection in 2010, and a series of retcons has changed his origins and background to make him less of a problematic stereotype and more of a real, developed person.

Even so, Arkady’s designs is remained wholly unchanged. We’ve seen a few variations over the years. The Luke Cage Digital Original (2018), Weapon X (2017), X-Force (2019), and most recently the From The Ashes Infinity Comic.

The one consistent is, as always, that hair. The length changes, but it’s always very long. The exact hue changes, but it’s always distinctly blonde. For whatever reason, this a key aspect of Arkady’s design that never changes.

Now, it’s easy enough to say that the reason Arkady’s overall design has seen so few changes is because one, it’s recognisable, and two, why put an effort into giving any change in design to a not particularly popular character? Everyone who knows of Arkady knows that while he’s certainly a fan favourite, Marvel themselves don’t treat him as though he is.

So, Arkady’s design remains unchanged from an editorial and audience viewpoint. As I’ve established, we can quickly pinpoint why; it’s easier and and more recognisable.

Now, what about an in-universe perspective? What about Arkady himself?

Again, as the writers and artists lay it out, Arkady’s hair is one of the key aspects about his appearance that adds to the ‘otherness’ and unease around him. It’s part of what adds to his overall appearance as an unstable, out of control monster from a bygone period in history. Unkempt, out of date, out of control.

And Arkady himself? In the rare insights we’re able to get any insight into him, be it through his conversations with others or the occasional inner monologue, he’s shown to be very self aware. Arkady knows exactly who he is and what he is, and he’s never hid it. Despite Logan in particular often insisting that Arkady can’t be trusted, he’s never once lied, at least not consciously.

Arkady is aware of how he’s perceived and how wrongly people often view him. He’s both aware there’s nothing he can do about yet unable to completely repress his frustration. He’s aware of what’s inside and outside of his control. How people treat him and view him isn’t. His own body and the way he presents himself are within his control.

From what I’ve found out after talking to some east European family members (I’m part Croatian) and scouring the Internet, long hair is still not viewed as the norm in Russia. It’s associated with, to name a couple of things, a lack of masculinity or being part of a counterculture. Variations on this sentiment are still prevalent in most parts of the western world too.

Arkady is aware, as I’ve pointed out, of the world around him and of how it views him. He’s undoubtably aware that this is how he would be seen. He’s aware of what the superhero community think of him and what his fellow mutants and Russians whisper about him.

Maybe he doesn’t change he suit often, even though he’s not attached to it, nor his position as Omega Red, because it’s familiar to him. Because he’s had to accept this is what he is. He has no other place in the world, no other niche to fit into other than that of Omega Red.

His hair though…even when Arkady does change his suit, even when he joins a different team, even when he goes undercover and wears civilian clothing…he’s never cut his hair off. Maybe he’ll take it out of the ponytail, but he’s cut it.

The three episode mini-arc of “From The Ashes” has shown Arkady regenerate from a skeleton. When he does this, even while still regenerating layers of skin over his muscles, his hair grows back in seconds and it grows back long. Maybe theres’s some part of his subconscious that can affect his regeneration. Maybe his hair always regenerates back to being long again because that’s what he wants. This is the way he wants to present himself.

Maybe this is the one part of himself that Arkady likes, that he puts effort into. He consistently takes care of it. He gets irrationally angry when it’s pulled or messed with without his consent.

And maybe this is another way that Arkady can exercise some level of freedom. He’s been controlled his whole life; born into an oppressive government regime, forced to become a super weapon with toxic blood, bent to the will of his mutation that actively is killing him since day one. His entire life, Arkady has only had a very limited amount of control over his own circumstances. It’s only recent years that he’s been allowed even a small lease over his own life and had any autonomy.

Maybe growing his hair as long as possible has always been his small way of exercising a little freedom, a little rebellion. Rebellion against how his country expects him to look and how most of the superhero’s he’s had to face present themselves.

He can be pumped full of toxic metal, left at the mercy of his mutation, handed back over to the country who turned him into a living weapon, rejected when convenient by said country and his own family. He can be passed around for containment and experimentation between governments. He can be used, cast off, chased, exploited, hunted, harmed and even murdered.

But when he returns, when he comes back to life, when he regenerates himself…his hair always returns back to the way it’s always been. Possibly at his own will. He will never conform fully, and he can never be completely controlled.

The lines between societal norms, fashion trends, sexuality and traditional gender roles are blurred. One of Arkady Rossovich’s most recognisable traits is also strong symbolism, and I personally like to believe it’s intentional.

#my content #my writing #omega red #arkady rossovich #marvel #x men #xmen #I really threw this together and there’s a LOT of my own personal opinions and speculation #but that’s what an essay is right?#anyway hope you enjoy

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starzzmissthesun · 11 days ago

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ethel cain ethel cain ethel cain ( this is my inner monologue) what do you think of punish ?

Ughh... So many thoughts.... I'll break it down lol (and yeah I know what it she made it ab, but this is kind of what my immediate and personal thoughts were about it) (also when I say you I don't actually mean you necessarily)

First of all, I just loved it SO much. The rusty swing sets, that guitar, her voice, the lyrics, the build, all of it was just to intimate and amazing. This is gonna be a bit personal but idc, as someone who has felt so much shame over EVERYTHING in my life, it really spoke to me. Shame is something so world stopping, it makes you feel inhuman like you're born different for being unable to do things freely like others. You've always been this way. It's something inescapable. Because even if you don't do whatever you feel shame for, you still feel disgusting for even feeling or thinking it. For me, this has gone so deep that even expressing feelings so simple like happiness and interest and hope and just being effected by something is shameful and needs to be hidden.

It really felt like the dam broke for me at "only God knows", something about feeling that being watched and being understood fully is so comforting and yet horrifying. Because you were made to be like this and He knows, He knows it all and he can judge. And He won't do anything to change you, you will just be punished. Not by him, but by everything else. "Nature chews on me." You have gone against nature and it will naw on you until you finally break down into the greater fabric that makes up everything else.

I also watched her the ring, the great dark, and the proximity to God video right after. I thought the ring imagery really tied the two together. Maybe it was finding that ring, trying to get so close to God that it's scary, it shameful that you want it so bad, and that He can see you and your want. You've perverted this feeling with your want. You're greedy, overindulgent.

Back to "nature chews on me", I've always thought that everything had this electricity or energy in it, and that mixed with infinity(fate) is 'God'. Maybe you're giving into the pull so easy that you're practically being pulled and metabolized into 'God'/the grander energy that everything is. You're longing to be apart of something larger to make you feel like you are meant to be. Shame in itself is the punishment. And the effects of that is too.

Overall this song was just so amazing to me. Ugh. I've also seen many many amazing interpretations of it that r also super cool and interesting. I'm very excited for this new direction for perverts.

#also the characters Immediately thought of with this song in different ways were barty regulus and rabastan so if ypu want that lmk #ethel cain #punish #punish ethel cain #perverts ethel cain #ask

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fleur-de-violette · 8 months ago

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“I’m Batman,” and all the lies one tells themself

AO3

Summary:

Dick doesn’t take long to realize he’s in some kind of dream or hallucination. The issue is getting out of it. Prompt: “I could be worse; I could be you.”

Note:

I hope you enjoy the fic! Warning for hallucinations/dream and general angst.

“Robin?”

Dick turns, tries to get his comm to work, tries to locate Damian without success. He’s in a corridor, with no memories of how he got there. He walks, but the place is never-ending. It turns, and closes on him, and moves around.

Lucid dream then. That, or he’s drugged.

“Robin?” he tries again. Only an unnatural echo replies to him.

“Robin,” says a voice behind him. “My little Robin, my spring bird, please look at me, please come to me.”

He’s not going to turn around. He knows what he will see if he does. He keeps walking. He knows all too well what the corpse of his mother looks like.

The cape becomes heavier and heavier as he walks. It’s suffocating. He tries to remove it, but the more he claws at it, the tighter it gets. Until there is no fabric behind his hands, and he’s fighting with gloved hands trying to strangle him. He looks up to see…

“Jason.”

“Surprised?”

“Not really. It’s not a secret you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Jason says with a voice he associates with Jason. Not Red Hood. “I could never hate you, man! You’re so cool. When you were Robin, I always admired you! And now… look at me. Sure, B gave me the training, and the gadgets, but the idea, the magic! It’s all you. You made me who I am!”

“You made me who I am,” Red Hood repeats, with the voice of Red Hood, and his face deforms to take the shape of the mask, an inhuman form, shaped only by hate. “It’s your fault, it’s all your fault.”

He tries to fight, tries to get the hand to let him go until they finally do, and he falls backward.

Except there is no floor to meet him. Only the infinity of nothingness.

And he falls.

(Somewhere, there is a gunshot. Rain.)

He falls.

And falls.

Until a hand catches him. He looks up to a familiar cowl.

“B?”

“You disappointed me,” Bruce says. “All you do is disappoint me over and over again. There is not a day where I don’t regret picking up that day. Damn that pity that made me keep you around so long.”

Dick is still dangling in the air. But he can’t stay there. He has to fight. He will fight. He will come back to reality. He won’t lose now. He swore it on Bruce’s grave. He would protect Gotham. He would protect Robin. He would protect Damian.

“No, you’re not… you’re not him. Bruce is…” he said it to Tim, he can say it again. “Bruce is dead. And you’re not him. You’re just a result of whatever is happening to me. The worst knockoff imitation of Batman I’ve ever seen.”

“The worst?” Batman asks, and then he laughs, something unnatural with his face. “Oh, no. I’m not the worst.”

He pulls up Dick to whispers in his ear, “I could be worse. I could be you.”

#dc #batfam #fanfiction #my writing #dick grayson #batman #dick grayson needs a hug #angst #horror

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cult-of-4 · 8 months ago

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Is forcing our enemies to play the infinity shaped splat zones side order level for 4 hours straight an inhuman punishment?

#cult of 4 #agent 4 #side order #shitpost

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inkwell-and-dagger · 9 months ago

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How To Kill An Immortal

Chapter 1 — Taken

- In which Rayan is taken.

Word Count: 3,107

Contains: kidnapping, (potential) knife violence, asphyxiation,

next || masterlist

—> —> —> —> —> —>

Immortals.

Those with the unnatural ability to surpass the regular limits of the human body, able to endure even the most lethal of wounds, able to heal from injuries with an uncanny speed, fall under this title.

But it wasn't as if they were particularly sought after. Unlike other, more mythical beings that plagued the world, they were treated normally. Hell, if one were to pass an Immortal in the street, they'd look like any normal passerby. Just a regular person, unless one would happen to witness their healing process or uncanny ability to walk off lethal injuries themselves.

Not to Foster Canavan, though.

The mere concept of Immortals existing unsettled them in a way. The fact a normal person, anyone, could possess such an ability naturally didn't seem right to them. Just like every other thing that wasn't quite like what they deemed as 'normal' in this world. It wasn't as if they wanted the ability to be Immortal, no, if anything they despised the things. After what one did to their own damned fucking parents, they could hardly stand the thought of being in a room with an Immortal. They weren't human in their eyes, no matter how hard anyone tried to convince them otherwise. And they'll never be human, no matter how human they look or act.

So when they realised an Immortal would be lurking amongst Durham for a while, they were determined to get rid of the vile thing themself.

There was only one problem, however: Foster had no bloody clue where to actually find the Immortal. The only reason they'd even become aware of the thing's existence was after they'd seen him walking down the street. They recognized almost immediately after that it was an Immortal — the vibrant, almost inhuman, green hue of its eyes and the darkened infinity symbol mark on his palms gave it away. They didn't know the Immortal's name, nor where it lived, where it was born, etcetera. And, quite frankly, they didn't give a shit. They just wanted to get the damned thing off the streets.

Prowling up and down the street they'd last seen the creature, Foster hid in the shadows of their hood. Although they weren't hiding from anybody in particular, it was a comfort to know that they wouldn't stand out too much. And despite the fact that they had an inkling of a doubt that the man would show up here again, they couldn't help but try anyway.

Lost in thought, eyes fixed onto the cracks in the pavement, they didn't notice a figure walking by until their shoulders collided. Snapping out of their trance, they looked up to the man they'd bumped into.

“I'm sorry,” Foster started, taking a moment as they mumbled the apology to assess the man's face. The stranger stood at around 5’7, they guessed, with ivory skin, brown hair and… green eyes.

Startlingly green. Almost unnaturally so.

Oh.

Successfully masking their expression of triumph, they kept their face neutral as the Immortal responded. Meanwhile, Foster clutched the small knife in their hoodie pocket even tighter. It may come in good use if he didn't come quietly.

“It’s okay. Wasn't your fault.” With a strong, Northern Irish accent, the damned creature replied casually. Shrugging, it turned to leave, before Foster's scarred hand grabbed a hold of his forearm.

“Aye, I've seen you somewhere. Yesterday.”

The Immortal raised an eyebrow, and Foster cursed themself as his expression turned to one of suspicion. “And what's making you stop me again?”

Crap. Thinking of an explanation, Foster tried to lengthen the time they had, even just by an inch. Then again, they doubted this excuse would be effective. “You.. erm, you look like an interesting guy?”

“Thank you?” The Immortal shuffled on the spot uncomfortably, gently prying its arm out of Foster's grasp. As the thing turned to leave again, much to the dismay of Foster, they realised they just had to get on with it and make their intentions known.

As soon as the tip of a knife, cold and dangerous, touched the back of his neck, the Immortal stopped in his tracks. Foster spoke again, “Listen ‘ere you little shit. You're gonna be coming with me, and you're gonna do everything I say. Otherwise, this—” They accentuated the word by pressing the pocket knife into the Immortal's skin, eliciting a whimper from the creature— “Is gonna end up three inches into your neck.” Foster grinned, though the expression was grim. “But I doubt it'll kill you.”

Foster relished in the fearful gaze meeting their own, the creature’s reaction priceless. “Huh—?”

“Come with me, Immortal.”

The Immortal begrudgingly nodded in response. His reluctance was evident. Foster's grin only widened, turning the Immortal around and beginning to lead him down the street. They shifted the position of the knife to a more subtle place, against the creature's lower back, digging the blade in if the vile thing moved too slowly. “Tell me your name.”

“Fuck you.”

Foster just pursed their lips, grip on the pocketknife tightening with their horribly disguised irritation. That was fine. They'd find out eventually. “How old are you?”

The Immortal hesitated, mumbling his response. His age wouldn't reveal too much, right? “Thirty.”

Foster frowned in suspicion. “You look too young to be thirty.”

A hint of a smirk involuntarily tugged at his lips, despite his situation. “Should I be flattered?”

The smaller mortal scowled. “Just keep fucking walkin’, Immortal.” They emphasised the last word as if it were an insult, pressing the blade of their knife further into Rayan's jacket until he fell silent and continued down the street. The road was quiet as dusk arrived, the only noise being the echo of their footsteps down the road.

The Immortal's fear was palpable, and Foster could practically taste it in the air. An icy, frigid feeling. It gladdened them to know that they were the one instilling this fear into such a ‘powerful’ creature.

With some time, Foster managed to track down where their parked car was, unceremoniously shoving open the car door and pushing the Immortal towards it; a silent command to get inside. They doubted they’d need to tie him up, given how compliant he was already.

But it did seem they overestimated him. Defiantly, he stood up again, standing quite a few inches taller than Foster. It was as if he was mocking them. “Look, I'll give you whatever you want. Money, or whatever,” the Immortal leaned closer, voice quivering, betraying his thin facade. The Immortal was terrified, but stood his ground, “I'm not getting in there.”

“I don't want money. Get in the car.”

“No, not until I—”

“Get in the car.”

“No—” his protest abruptly turned into a strained grunt as Foster's hand wrapped easily around his neck, and the mortal grinned at the quickening pulse under their palm. Lifting his hands to grasp their wrist, attempting to pry his captor’s hand off once realising he couldn't breathe. “Get off of me!” He rasped, sinking his chipped black nails into the flesh of their wrist, earning a pained grunt from the mortal.

The mortal scowled, an expression riddled with disgust, as they slid the knife back into their pocket to hold him down against the car door with their other hand. Squeezing tighter, they watched in sick, grim satisfaction as the creature's pleas turned into gasps and whimpers for air.

The Immortal’s pitiful noises soon subsided after a couple minutes, movements weakening when his consciousness began to slip. Foster watched, hardly fazed by the scene, instead squeezing tighter until, finally, Rayan was unconscious. They placed him down on the backseat, leaning over his unconscious form.

“Thank fuck,” They whispered, quickly checking nobody had watched the ordeal before grabbing the bundle of rope from the passenger seat. Roughly binding the Immortal's wrists and ankles together, they wasted no time in instead shoving him into the boot of the car. Just in case he woke up and decided to cause trouble.

—> —> —>

Foster had been driving for a good fifteen minutes now, lost in the winding roads outside of Durham. Thankfully, if the vile Immortal was even awake now in the first place, the thing in the boot was silent.

They pondered over what they could do now. Chaining the guy up in their basement is really the only option they have; they can't exactly kill him, can they? Foster lived alone, which they were infinitely thankful for, but they had to put into consideration that their neighbours might grow suspicious if they were to hear him. Scaring them into silence will have to suffice if they grow too curious.

With that thought, they pulled into the driveway of their house. It wasn't too much of a noticeable building, quite mundane compared to some of those around them. But they enjoyed the simplicity, the neatness. Boring to some, perfect to them.

Striding out of the car and to the boot, they hesitated. They were conflicted; they didn't want anybody witnessing them dragging a tied up, thirty-year-old man into their house, but then again they didn't want to risk leaving him unattended for too long. Foster didn't trust that the Immortal wouldn't try and escape once left alone.

They checked their phone. It was nearly midnight. They doubted anybody would be awake at the time, so Foster was sure they'd be fine.

Fuck it. What did they have to lose, anyway? Certainly not much. Gloved hand opening the boot of the car, they were amused to see the Immortal, bound and distressed, staring up at them with teary eyes. They almost felt bad for the vermin. Almost.

“Out you go,” Foster grunted, holstering the man up into their arms despite the height difference, slinging him over their shoulder and wasting no time in getting inside. They'd worry about closing the boot in a moment. Until the damned thing stopped squirming in their arms, they weren't going anywhere.

“Let go of me—!”

Foster ignored the pleas from the damned thing, throwing it inside before it could make even more noise and, most likely, alert anyone nearby. They smirked down at the Immortal as he squirmed on the floor of the hallway, attempting to at least stand up. Foster just pushed him back down with the heel of their boot, adding an uncomfortable amount of pressure that stopped his struggling entirely.

“Now,” Foster sighed, in almost a bored tone, “you are gonna stay right here whilst I lock the car. If you do so much as move an inch, I'll remove your ability to move entirely. And I don't mean by restraining you. Understood?”

The man nodded in silence, most likely too frightened to speak. Good.

With a small, amused chuckle at the sight of the Immortal's terror, Foster shut the front door once more. They didn't lock it, knowing that they'd scared the Immortal into compliance for a little while. They hastily locked the car and carried in the spare rope they had, returning to the doorway after a few moments. As expected, the Immortal remained in place.

Finally entering and locking the door, they set the rope aside and grabbed the Immortal by the back of his jacket, dragging him down a nearby staircase to their basement. It was only a place for storage, the only interesting assets being a couple cupboards and boxes of old things they wanted to keep, but it would suffice for now. They ignored the pained grunts and occasional thuds as the Immortal's restrained body was dragged down the staircase.

Swinging open the basement door, a loud creak splitting through the air as it swung on rusted hinges, the Immortal was thrown into the basement. A small grunt of pain followed the thud of his body hitting the frigid ground.

“Welcome home, Immortal.” Foster sneered, slamming the door shut.

—> —> —>

Rayan was freaking out, to be honest.

He had believed — how stupid he was to believe — that taking an evening walk would soothe his mind, at least temporarily. He had believed that the cool, crisp air was all that he needed. Just some time on his own, to ground himself and take in Durham when there wasn't activity buzzing around him. He'd been proved wrong.

And now, here he was: hands tied by uncomfortably tight rope, still fuzzy and disoriented from being choked until he was unconscious, locked in a pitch-black basement. He didn't even know who his captor was — didn't recognize the scarred, grinning face that had watched with glee as he struggled for air, and had happily dragged him down a flight of stairs and locked him in this… place.

He took a moment to attempt to look around, but all he saw was black. Lifting his hands, he hardly saw them in front of him. Great. From what little he'd seen before the door had closed, the room only held a couple boxes and dusty cabinets, none of which would be particularly useful unless one of them held an item which could assist him in escaping. But right now, he just needed to calm the fuck down.

He didn't like the dark. He didn't like not being able to see what's around him, what's behind him, and every little creak of the floorboards above him as his captor moved around upstairs made his skin crawl.

He shuffled back until he hit a wall, the sudden impact making his heart skip a beat. With something to assist him, he lifted himself to his feet. He didn't know why he decided this was a good idea — his ankles were bound together after all — but he did it anyway.

He suddenly stopped, glancing up as he heard footsteps. He had no doubt that his captor was returning, and he could only imagine what for. He sank to the floor again, trying to make it seem he wasn't trying anything, as the door creaked open again and he gazed, terrified, up at the silhouette of his captor.

“I bet you have a lot of questions,” They started as he was about to open his mouth, striding inside and dragging an object with them. A chair.

What would they need a chair for?

“And, to be frank, I'm not giving you any answers,” They placed the chair in the centre of the room, then walked back to the door. Flicking a switch on the wall, a single light bulb lit up the basement in a flickering yellow light. Rayan was, at least, thankful there was a light source in here in the first place.

His captor returned to him, crouching down to be level with him. They grabbed his wrists, tracing a thumb across the infinity symbol across his palm, etched into his flesh. “All you need to know is this: I know what you are, Immortal. And soon, I'm gonna figure out who you are.”

Leaving Rayan to figure out what this could imply, they made another trip back to the door. They turned back as Rayan finally had the courage to speak.

“You're.. not gonna kill me, right?” The question seemed almost childish to Rayan as soon as he uttered it, knowing that the answer was obvious. He couldn't die.

Hopefully.

“You and I both know I’d love to.” And with that, the buzzing light flickering off and plunging the Immortal into darkness, the door slid shut again.

—> —> —>

Rayan Cruz Hyacinth. Or, Cora Cruz Hyacinth — but that was his deadname, so Foster ignored that. Born in Dublin, Ireland, on the twenty-sixth of October, 1994. He has an older sister — Madeline Osoro-Hyacinth, around thirty-nine years of age. He had Perfect Immortality, whereas Madeline had Imperfect Immortality. Madeline is married to a woman by the name of Vivana. The Hyacinth’s parents are deceased.

Interesting.

Foster shut down their laptop, letting the soft whirring of the fans inside diminish as they closed the top. They knew this sort of stuff was probably illegal, but technically all of this was. There was no going back now, and it wasn't like they had much to lose anyway if they did get caught.

Standing up out of their seat at the kitchen table, they relished the tranquillity of the silent house around them. It was as if there wasn't a man in the basement in the first place! They were glad that he wasn't making any noise. It would be unfortunate if he was causing trouble; they didn't want to use their bat too early on, after all.

Speaking of, they decided to check up on him before they went to bed. Just to make sure there was no chance he'd escape during the night.

They'd taken off their trainers after they brought the chair to the basement, so their footsteps were much quieter as they descended down the steps that led to the basement. Letting the door creak open, marking their arrival, they clicked the flickering light on again.

Rayan had found refuge in one of the empty corners of the basement, wide eyes red from crying. He looked up, shuddering in fear of the silhouette staring down at him with a cruel, mocking grin. “I see you've made yourself comfortable,” Foster stated, walking casually inside and crouching down to the Immortal man’s height.

Rayan scowled, a pathetic attempt at defiance. “As comfortable as I can get in here. It's cold.”

His captor just pouted sarcastically, grabbing the rope around his wrists and dragging him out of the corner. “Too bad.”

Rayan couldn't help but grunt, scrambling to his feet. He didn't want to be dragged across the dusty floor. Begrudgingly, he followed Foster as they led him to none other than the chair, pushing him down onto the cushioned seat.

“I'll have to remove the cushioning somehow in the future,” Foster mused, much to Rayan's dismay, as they picked up the bundle of rope from the nearby cabinet. “Stay still.”

The process was painful, but more so in the way it was awkward. The rope around his wrists and ankles were uncomfortably tight. It didn't seem to help how his captor was whistling a merry little tune during it, silencing his complaints with a hard glare.

Eventually, strapped to the chair, Foster stepped back to admire their handiwork. It.. wasn't the best, but it was good enough. “I'm sure you'll be comfortable enough. I hope you like the dark.”

“I- I really don't—”

“Too fucking bad.” They said cheerily, though through gritted teeth, as they turned on their heels and walked to the door. Flicking the basement light off, they glanced over their shoulder before they shut and locked the door.

“Sweet dreams, Rayan Hyacinth.”

—> —> —>

CHAPTER ONE OF HTKAI IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF!!!!! this was. actually longer than I expected. uh. anyhow!

How To Kill An Immortal Taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

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kichous · 1 year ago

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✧･ﾟ:* everything but talk it through

summary. it should raise questions, how you’re the first person he chooses to see before a trip abroad. but you’re too distracted by his hand slipping down your waistband. series. a night of dark trees. part one. part two. part three you’re here! pairing. gojo satoru x gn!reader. warnings. heavy ( non-explicit ) mentions of sex. word count. 2521.

Gojo arrives uninvited, unannounced, and at his leisure. Such is the way he arrives at most, if not all, functions. Except this is no function, and you had been hoping to just enjoy a quiet night in before the work week started. You’re so used to Gojo that you don’t even bother yelling at him for the intrusion anymore, instead rolling your eyes at his entirely too cheerful greeting.

“I’m going on a business trip,” he chirps, as though you had asked. “Want me to get you anything?”

He set himself up for this one. “I want you to get away from me.”

“Aw.” You are unmoved by his glossy pout, the protrusion of his lower lip instead making a vein throb in your forehead. “You’re so mean to me.”

But even as he says so, you’re reaching into the cupboard for his favorite purple mug, the kettle already on the stove. He’s hunched over your kitchen counter, legs looped around those of one of your stools like he’s some kind of cephalopod. He’s comfortable here, which flies directly into the face of your supposed inhospitable nature. Murmuring a thanks as he takes the steaming cup from you—”Coaster!” you snap, making him jump—Gojo dumps an inhuman amount of sugar into his tea and props his chin up with his left hand.

“So, not that I care or anything,” you drawl, nursing your own drink, “what exactly is this business trip for and how long will you be gone?”

“Why, you askin’ ‘cause you need to know whether to break the Hitachi out while I’m gone?” Gojo laughs blithely, his Infinity batting away the soggy teabag you lob at him. It lands on the counter with a wet plop, and he gets up to toss it in your wastebin. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple of weeks. Just a little something to do with your dear little friend.”

Ah. The less you know about Yuji’s legal status, the better. Your primary concern is the boy himself, and Gojo’s doing you a favor by giving you some level of plausible deniability. Not that it would stick much, given that you had direct contact with the child. The higher-ups may have scoffed at your line of work, but they never considered you disobedient. You’re not sure what the ultimate blowback in this situation will end up being. You appreciate the fact that he’s at least trying to lessen the blow.

“So?” prods Gojo, doing so with his bony elbow as well. “What’ll it be? Baobab seed? Wicker basket? Blood diamond?”

You just barely keep from shooting scalding liquid from your nostrils. The look on your face, bug-eyed as it must be, serves as a source of endless amusement for him. Hacking wetly into the cuff of your sleeve, you wag a disapproving finger at him.

“One, that is so incredibly inappropriate.” You then allow your hand to go limp to flash the ice on your ring finger. “Two, I already have all the diamonds I’ll ever need. And three, knowing how cheap you are, you’d definitely bring me back cubic zirconia and try to dupe me into believing they’re real diamonds.”

“Cheap?! The outfit I’m wearing right now is 800,000 yen! Including my underwear.”

“Sure.”

He scowls. “So mean. You know, just for that, I’m going to get you a voodoo doll.”

“Wouldn’t you be in the wrong part of the world for a voodoo doll if your first offering was a baobab seed?” You snicker at Gojo’s frustrated wail. “You’re just going to steal one from Kugisaki and lie about it, aren’t you? I know you, you damn scam artist!”

“I am feeling so very attacked right now. This is a hate crime against the protected class of attractive young men. You’ll go to jail for this.” Crossing his arms, Gojo harrumphs like a small child and makes a ninety-degree turn on the stool. He shrugs your hand off when you try to apologetically pat him on the shoulder. “No. I’m still mad at you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” You make a show of mockingly bowing at him, and when that proves ineffective, you round the counter to kowtow at his feet. That, at least, earns you a smile. “Ah! There it is, arising in the east, Satoru’s smile is the sun.”

Gojo huffs, unwinding his arms. “That’s not how the line goes.”

“And that’s why you’re the teacher, not me.” You hop up on the stool next to him, mirroring his posture as you prop your elbow on the granite. “But seriously, is that all you came to say? You’re leaving? Are you making the rounds to everyone or could you not have just sent that in an e-mail?”

He leans closer, ankle brushing against yours. His glasses slip just a bit down the tip of his nose as he smirks—leers, really—at you. “Maybe I came here looking for a going away present. Maybe… something like a kiss?”

Ah, and there it is. You tilt your head, brushing the tip of your nose against his. You’re so close you can feel the warm puff of his breath against your lips. It’s like Gojo’s a black hole, slowly reeling you in. “Just a kiss?”

“Something to remember you by.” And then he closes the gap between the two of you.

Gojo’s an amazing kisser, and he knows it—just one of the many reasons that you find it increasingly difficult to say no to him. As self-absorbed as he can be, Satoru’s a generous lover. You have a feeling he gets an ego boost from driving his partners wild with pleasure. Not as unselfish a motive as you would prefer from a lover, but who are you to look a gift horse (or snake, according to his entirely too apt lunar zodiac) in the mouth? Your tongue’s the only thing that should be going in it.

His hands catch at your hips as you part, the sensation of air against your kiss-swollen lips breaking you out of your reverie. He tucks his head into your neck, leaving sharp little nips down the column of your throat as he pulls you against him. You can feel the pitter-patter of his heartbeat. It’s nearly as fast as yours. Winding your fingers through his hair, you tilt your head back with a sigh. He’s hot—a blazing inferno against your body, threatening to consume you whole. Your eyes fly open when he hoists you into the air abruptly. Instinctually, you lock your legs around Satoru’s waist as he lays a palm just above the curve of your ass to support your lower back.

“A little warning would have been nice,” you hiss, batting him lightly on the shoulder.

“We’re way past the time for talking,” says Satoru, his voice a low, hoarse rasp. His glasses have slipped almost all the way down his nose, the all-encompassing blue of his eyes almost invisible with how dilated his pupils are. You did this to him, you think triumphantly. You’re why his breath runs ragged, why his mouth is a ravaged red, why his pulse pounds with want.

Satoru is very familiar with the layout of your apartment, his gaze never leaving yours as he guides you both to your bedroom. You trust him not to walk you into a wall, though the brief weightlessness of being thrown onto your bed punches a startled “Eep!” out of you. “Mattress wasn’t soft enough for that—!”

Satoru tugs his shirt off instead of apologizing out loud. Your hand flies to his exposed chest without permission, fingers tracing squiggly lines down the planes of muscle. The pad of your thumb ghosts above a nipple, making Satoru tremble, and you catch it between your teeth. It—and the flash of tongue against the stiffening peak—draws a cry from Satoru, his back arching. You soothe the sting with gentle laps of your tongue as your free hand toys with the other side of his chest. Your right hand gropes at his ass. When you draw your fingers into his back pocket, you hear the crinkle of foil and tug at the packet—gold, with the English word MAGNUM written across it.

“You smug bastard,” you laugh. “You came here with a plan—’going away present,’ my ass.”

“Your ass is the present,” Satoru snorts. “You got a problem with that?”

“No. Not at all.”

Both of you are left breathless in the end, all thoughts of taking your time flying out the window when the opportunity to rut like animals presents itself. You’ll never get enough of it, the way Satoru groans low in his throat when he presses into you for the first time, or the way he folds himself over you no matter which position you’re in, skin against skin from head to toe.

It’s always amazing with him. That’s why you keep him around, after all. You’re up for another round, or three, if he’s able. Satoru catches his breath next to you, swatting your hand away with a hiss as your fingers crawl over his hip in a spider-like motion.

A laugh bubbles out of you, delirious and just barely more than a wheeze. You’re still breathless and warm, your heartbeat a frenetic rabbit’s pace in your ribcage. “Do you ever get tired?” you ask, itching to brush snowy locks away from his forehead.

“What do you mean?” Satoru props himself up on his elbow, gazing down at you inquisitively.

“Well.” It’s a strange topic to broach; neither of you has ever spoken at length about this… partnership of yours. There’s always been an unspoken rule about preserving its sanctity this way—no need to make it complicated.

You’re both attractive people, and you want each other. Simple, transactional, and way better than therapy (which is funny, coming from you). You’re not foolish enough to believe someone like Satoru would limit himself. Those who know him probably wouldn’t want to touch him with a ten-foot pole, but strangers wouldn’t resist the temptation of his long legs and sculpted torso, his soft lips and brilliant eyes. “If this is how you put out for everyone you’ve ever been with, I don’t know how you do it. I know you’ve got boundless cursed energy, but I didn’t think that extend to regular—”

“I’m…” He looks puzzled. Almost hurt. An uncomfortable weight settles in your gut. “I’m not sleeping with anyone else. Are… are you…?”

“No.” You’re not as embarrassed by the admission as you are at his expression when you speak. Satoru’s cheeks puff slightly as he exhales, his brows drifting upward in what you can only describe as relief. He smiles, and it’s more gentle than predatory. You’re not used to him being this open. You’re not used to him being this nice. “What’s that face for?”

“My face is just my face,” laughs Satoru. He traces a gentle line down your jaw with a knuckle. You think he’s about to kiss you, shutting your eyes in anticipation as you feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. This leaves you wholly unprepared for the actual curve of his mouth, around words rather than a silent gesture.

“I love you.”

Your eyes fly open. It is no comfort to see he’s just as surprised as you are that he’d said it. All you can do is gape at him, a violent stabbing feeling in your chest as the bed seemingly falls away from underneath you. You must be dreaming. You pinch yourself. You’re not. And Satoru—Gojo, God, when did you get so familiar with him?—stares at you in anguish, hurt pouring out of him like a flood.

Not a single part of this situation makes sense to you. Not why he blurted it out. Not why he meant it. Not why he would ever expose his soft underbelly like this, practically holding up a neon sign denoting one of his few weaknesses.

Not why you rush to console him when heartbreak etches itself into the lines of his face. Not how you choose to offer your support with a highly unwelcome and unhelpful, “Thanks.”

You’ve not had to respond to those three words in a long time. You’re out of practice. But even you know that wasn’t the right thing to say.

Gojo doesn’t even call you out on it, instead reeling away from you as though he’s been shot. He stumbles free of the sheets, all ungainly limbs askew. His fringe shields his eyes from you as he hastily dresses himself. Stonily silent, he crams his shades on and he’s lost to you forever.

The situation is unsalvageable, a lost cause. Some could rightfully accuse you of being a pessimist, but there’s really no greater example than this. In the face of Gojo’s hurt, actual heartbreak—something you had never once thought him capable of—you’re powerless. You’re the one who hurt him, after all. How could anything you say be a balm to the pain you’ve caused?

“Wait,” you say weakly, but of course he doesn’t.

“I have to go,” is all Gojo says, punctuated by heavy footfalls and followed by the slamming of your front door. He hadn’t even found it in himself to crack a joke as he fled.

Pulling yourself up into a sitting position, you put your head in your hands. Part of you wants to be angry at him for taking a perfectly good thing and screwing it all up. But that’s not fair. He couldn’t help falling for you any more than you could help falling in love with your only classmate when you were fifteen. No, it’s the guilt that infuriates you—that Gojo’s gone and made you feel bad for hurting his feelings.

(And there’s another secret thing that you refuse to acknowledge.)

You can freely admit that your reaction was poor and hurtful. You will apologize for that, if Gojo will allow you to. He hadn’t said when he would be leaving for his trip, but it would be in poor taste to wait for longer than a week—especially if you want to sleep with him ever again. And you do. But would that be a good idea? And is that the only reason you want to apologize?

Trust Gojo to go and make everything this complicated. You sigh mournfully for the status quo. You’ll give him the rest of the night to lick his wounds. You have some of your own to nurse, a yawning gaping void in your chest that frays at the edges and brings tears unbidden to your eyes. Squeezing them shut, you beg for blissful sleep to take you, so you don’t have to think or feel or do much of anything anymore.

(The truth of it is, when Gojo said it, you felt happy. That was your immediate reaction. And that frightens you. Try as you might to move on, as your long lost beloved—so good and kind and sweet—would have wanted for you, you’re terrified of it actually happening.

It’s deliciously pathetic. Between a mass murderer and… you, Gojo Satoru needs better taste.)

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anodt tag.#jjk fic.#fun fact the only reason this doesn't include sm.ut is because i got LAZY lmao #anywho HAPPY SEASON 2

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loving-n0t-heyting · 2 years ago

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It’s not merely that my country (and, by extension, half the human world) is reigned over by a politically unaccountable blob of imperialist vampires whose fucking motte when interfacing with the public they try to get on board with this global oligarchy is that they wish to homogeneously impose their parochial culture and way of life on every living person thru the subordination of the entirety of human existence to the bottomless inhuman maw of the profit motive (and impose it upon the dead retroactively reinterpreting the best of them as prophets foretelling the dawn of our paradise of the dollar, mystically having somehow lived already by its future laws as wayfarers destined for this the true and promised land of the living), it is that the culture they thereby wish to foist upon all of humanity unto infinity is the most pointlessly repressed bullshit i have ever fucking seen. If you ever worry to the minutest degree what ppl will think of you for eating the same dish as the other person at yr restaurant table you need to go drop acid and spend a week fasting in the woods to reevaluate yr fucking life or smth oh my FUCKING hell

#I’m having a Bad Time today #pls read the post in this light

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astralexpressarchives · 1 year ago

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The Sedition Timeline Theory: Imprisoned Version

I have spent way too many hours thinking about this video game, especially the High Cloud Quintet and the Sedition. For that reason, I'd like to make a post outlining the sequence of events that I currently believe is quite likely based on my interpretation of the evidence available as of now, Oct 7 2023.

This post will be using spoilers from the leaked Jingliu Character Stories.

Before the Sedition

1800 Years ago, Jingliu's home ship Cangcheng was devoured by the Incarnosphere revived by Shuhu.

In the dark sky, the demonic planet named Rahu was wailing and singing, descending upon everyone with mountain ridges and continents ablaze. On the streets, people were screaming. They struggled and rolled on the ground in the apocalyptic despair, allowing golden vines to sprout and grow feverishly their every orifice. She watched everything, unable to move. Her organs felt like they were boiling. Something suddenly burst out of her Core Esse like a ripe wheat grain about to erupt out of its casing and swell till infinity. However, the mountains crashing into her face made her recall that she was nothing but an insect, about to die from a tiny press of an Emanator's fingertip. In that spit moment before death claimed her, she grabbed the only flax next to her. A sword, 3 feet and 7 inches in length, weighing about 7 pounds.

Note here that the sword is actually the training sword given to her by her master earlier in the passage.

A short time afterwards, Jingliu is arrogant and is bested by an opponent in a war and rescued by her master. She blames the sword and she and her master have this conversation:

I don't want to learn the sword anymore. It's... useless." "Useless? It's pretty useful in my hands. It is the wielder who was useless." "..." "If you don't learn the sword, what do you want to learn? The alchemical arrows on the pilots' starskiffs? The blazing fire flung by divine crossbows? Or... The artillery of the Zhuming Xianzhou? Such instruments would also be enough to destroy that demonic planet. You want to learn about them? Fine. Those things can kill the enemy without even from beyond visual sight.""...I just don't understand why you insist on teaching me the sword!?" "From the general to the smallest pawn, every Cloud Knight starts by learning the sword. "The various constructs provided by the Artisanship Commission can certainly kill the enemy for you, but those deeds are to the merit of the material rather than the person. If there comes a day that the quivers run empty, that the starskiffs crash, that the aurumatons freeze — Who will protect you and I, then? Who will protect the Xianzhou? "Hold this sword. Remember, only when Cloud Knights wielding swords stride upon the battlefield themselves is humanity fighting our own war. We will demonstrate our victory to those inhuman abominations with our blood and ability instead of letting ingenia do the work for us!"

Take special note of how her master brings up "Who will protect you and I" in her explanation. I believe this is drawing a direct parallel to DH:IL 3 and setting her master up to sacrifice herself when everything is going wrong.

Just prior to the formation of the High Cloud Quintet, Baiheng is acting as an ambassador to Zhuming to request reinforcements. Here, she meets Yingxing when he is a young teenager and experiences visions from the 'ball of light rays.' From Views of the Universe from a Starskiff: The Xianzhou Zhuming:

Every ray of light from the "sun" is beating, as if undergoing intense turbulence. Or rather, like a raging suppression since ancient times, gnarling and gnashing as it tries to fight through to my consciousness. In an instant, a flood of scenes well up and rampage through my mind, like a book flipping pages in the wind: — A "tree" with no boundaries suspended from the heavens, piercing the starry sky. — A vacuum, inside which ships spew forth brilliant beams like fireflies chasing fire, flocking to fluctuating flesh. There are even winged humanoids, wings outstretched... — I hear the howl of a Cloud Knight and a starskiff moments before crashing down, "Defend the Xianzhou!" "Victory to the Cloud Knights!"... — A colossal aurumaton, towering hundreds of feet high as it stalks and strides, stretching out cold metal arms to interact with a giant gelatinous beast of meat, teeth, and countless eyeballs. — In the sky stand radiant warriors, holding spears and longbows radiating fiery death. Their every gene has been sculpted and filtered to grant them a strength and beauty surpassing that of even modern Xianzhou people. — Even more terrifying is that their bodies are covered in an unnatural flame, as if embodying their innermost courage and rage. They charge one-by-one, over and over into the formless void, never to return... "...Take this oath, and keep it forever!" the rays of light roared, leaving the ears ringing. "Everyone! Steel yourselves — and don't look directly at the Flint Emperor!"

These visions are about Lan the Hunt's battle against Muldrasil and the Wingweavers. Note that this is the battle where he utilized the Heliobi "sun" powers from the Flint Emperor to destroy the Arbor. You can read about his story in Annotations from Ode to Reignbow Path.

Sometime around year 7279, about 800 years ago, Jingliu forms the High Cloud Quintet (Yes, she is already 1000 years old at this point.)

In the first battle that the HCQ fought (or earlier), Dan Feng sealed a maddened and frenzied dragon within the Arbor as per DH:IL Character Story One:

He dreamed he was standing before a sacrificial altar, dancing and chanting. However, the songs and gestures were mere facades. The light emanating from his eyes and the storm roiling in his blood were the true forces at play. Casually, he wove the misty and foggy tide in Scalegorge Waterscape, sealing the maddened and frenzied "dragon" into the propagating giant tree. As the echoing roar streamed up into the heavens and dissipated, Scalegorge Waterscape will continue its peace for centuries more, and his duty was over. The ceremony ended, and he turned to look behind him. In the blink of an eye, the stairs he had stepped down from had become full of standing dignitaries with draconic horns and dressed like royalty. As if they were mirages in a mirror, each of them turned and their sleeves swirled with the motion, ready to leave one after another in a meticulously calculated arrangement. Innumerable, they formed a staircase to the sky, stretching into the never-ending spatial void. The faces of all these people would greet him every morning in his dressing mirror — That was his face. No, it was the face of the primordial, the original, the very first high elder. He smiled bitterly and covered his face with his palm, as if ascertaining whether he could tear off this mask and return it to its true owner. He could not.

Note the presence of all of his "ancestors" as well as the mists and fog. The storm was 'roiling in his blood' and I think this is literal because his blood is most likely the ancient Vidyadhara water.

DH:IL 2 We see how Dan Feng is forced to be. His duty is to destroy and be detached from empathy. His dragon heart speaks of insignificance yet his human heart aches for all those who have died.

The devastated borisins began to flee. He knew it was time to carry out the duty entrusted to him. So he let go — letting his consciousness disappear in storms and hails, letting thunder roar for him, letting tsunamis rage for him. He floated on top of clouds, watching the enemies getting swallowed by the watery abyss, and watching the land behind him. Many humans, Vidyadhara, and Foxians were eternally left there, unable to lay their eyes upon their home ever again. The dragon heart told him that it was but a small speck of dust brushed away from the world. Wars come with a price, but life will always thrive once more — the Vidyadhara are not the only branch of Long's Scions. However, his human heart ached for those comrades who, like him, had warm flesh and blood, and for those mortals who might have lived longer but now could return home nevermore.

During one of these wars, Jingliu's master dies. In Jingliu Character Story Part 3:

She doesn't have a master anymore. The woman in the military uniform perished on the battlefield and can instruct her no longer. Nor does she need a master anymore. She knows everything there is to know about swords. They are a part of her body. They are the intake and release of her breath as she walks and sleep. People call her the Transcendent Flash, the pinnacle of swordmasters, a once-in-ten-century hero. However, she knows that her sword is still not enough to "cut down the star in the sky" — Even if she is holding the greatest sword in all the Xianzhou...

Here she is mourning her master's passing and realizing that even the greatest swords are not enough to protect what you care about. I strongly believe Jingliu's master died as the last line of defense in a self-sacrifice to let Jingliu and others survive. The death of her master is the first 'wake up call' for Jingliu that she isn't enough yet.

The Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae

I think it starts with a war vs Shuhu because of this Vidyadhara Egg:

You gently tap on the shell of the Vidyadhara egg. It shakes nervously, and the scales on the shell open and close slightly to warn and drive you away. It used to be one of the guards in charge of watching the Ambrosial Arbor in Scalegorge Waterscape. For centuries, the ancient tree had been quiet as though it was in a deep slumber. Taking measurements of the tree every day with its comrades bored it to death. Who would have thought that the Ambrosial Arbor would wake up on that fateful day? Gigantic waves have swept it and its comrades away. In an urgent voice, it asks you about its comrades, but you have no answer.

I think Shuhu may have found a way to awaken the Arbor. Yueyuan also makes mentions of Denizens of the Abundance causing havoc in the Scalegorge before the sedition:

Hmph, first there was the bloody conflict against the Denizens of Abundance. Then the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae almost shook the Ambrosial Arbor to its core...

They won the war.

From DH:IL 3:

He dreamed that he parted the ocean's waters and came to the palace ruin depths, burying the remnants of his old friend's hallowed blood, or creating a new life that had not been seen for millennia — or, perhaps, those two actions were one and the same, an unattainable desire that could not be carried out for long years in the past, a final straw that broke the gargantuan dragon's back. The craftsman was covered in blood and wounds as he guarded the dragon with a sword in his hand. He urged himself to commit to the decision. "Shuhu is dead... we won, but how many more victories can we manage to achieve? How many more prices like this must we pay?" "Look, the Ambrosial Arbor still stands. So long as it is alive, the monsters... they can come back again and again. The war of the Xianzhou natives, Foxians, and Vidyadhara against the abominations will never end." "Yes, none of us are special! Each of us has only one life, sacrificing for this, dying for that... it's all our own choices. Just like how she chose to save you and Jingliu... just like how she chose to let more people live on!" War, and the lives that expired in the war, were living beings just like him. He shut his eyes wearily, remembering their faces, and made up his mind. "If there's a chance... we will also choose to let her and more people live on. We, the Vidyadhara, have our own way of salvation. I can give it a try."

I believe here that the old friend's hallowed blood is the special water blood of the dead Vidyadhara, the Azure Dragon, Long, or some combination. Creating a new life that has not been seen for millennia refers to the creation of a new Dragon life from the remnants of the dead dragon life that was unable to properly rebirth. Note that Vidyadhara MUST return to the sacred sea in order to form their shells and go through the hatching rebirth.

Yingxing talking about the prices we must pay is a callback to DH:IL 2 where he ponders the price of war, all the lives that are lost. This is especially devastating for Vidyadhara who cannot reproduce. Yingxing identifies that the Arbor is the cause of all the problems. I believe here that Dan Feng is planning to destroy the Arbor.

As previously mentioned, I believe the unnamed woman who died for 'You and Jingliu' is Jingliu's master.

Like an out-of-body experience, like a dream within a dream, he returned to the moment before his sense of self disappeared. With a cold and emotionless mind, he observed himself turning into a dragon, entangled and fighting claw-and-fangs against that bulb of shapeshifting shadow of flesh and blood. In an illusion seen on the verge of death, the emissary of the god showed him an unsettling, beautiful scene — the stars pulsated and sang hymns like red blood cells, and the universe descended into an abyss of flesh and desires. The dragon heart beat to its limit, raising its fangs, breath, and fury — however, no matter how mighty it was, a "lifeform" cannot defy the true body of god of life's envoy.

Note the presence of Yingxing still in the picture as the dragon transformation takes place. This indicates that the transformation is a continuation of the previous scene and NOT a flashback to a prior scene. His sense of self is disappearing because he is merging with the azure dragon. I would also like to note that the CN word here for Life is closer to the 'path of life/fate' meaning than the state of being alive.

...Until a starskiff ran everything through like an arrow shaft. He saw that girl crawling out of the ruins with great difficulty, lifting a "sun" of absolute darkness in her hand. In that fleeting eternity, he saw her hand disappear, saw her face disappear, and saw HER disappear — That item had ground everything around it into the finest dust and dragged them into a vortex of raw power, including that girl. A tuft of hair and a few drops of blood fell to the floor as evidence of her existence. Those were the only traces she left.

This is where Baiheng blew herself up. Note the use of the "sun" callback to Lan's story. I believe she was paralleling his story and attacking the arbor. Her explosion is likely the reason that the Arbor was so stumpy before the stellaron was inserted into it, causing new growth, in the current era. (The above picture is definitely after Lan shot it because the Vidyadhara did not appear on the Xianzhou until around year 4800 vs Lan's Muldrasil war in about 3400).

You gently touch the surface of the eggshell, and a searing and intense impact bursts out and surges right into your head through your fingertips. A hoarse and deep voice lingers by your ears. You see a heart with odd burn marks on its dry and withered surface. The fire in the distance is burning ferociously in an attempt to devour everything. A figure pulls another figure into their arms despite the danger. In the chaos, you hear some indistinct cries that also sound like the whispering between lovers. You think about the burnt elixir crucible that once tore the darkness apart. But now, not a single trace of light is in sight. You look down at the egg and finally notice it is not stained by the ash from the crucible, but just some dew that is somehow scorching hot.

This Vidyadhara egg mentions the elixir crucible, which is in close proximity to the Arbor. The elixir crucible relies on the water to function, so Dan Feng's spells may have caused it to cease functioning correctly and it was caught on fire in the attack. It talks about the fires in the distance and the figure that pulls another figure into their arms despite the danger - I think this could be referring to Dan Feng finding an injured Yingxing who was injured in the aftermath. It also talks about a heart with odd burn marks on it dry and withered surface - Dragon Heart Theory real? It's more likely than you think.

From here, I think Dan Feng is likely arrested by the 10 Lords Commission and sent to nice jail:

Those who are familiar with my previous post will know more about why I believe this is the location of the sedition. Note the presence of Preceptor Taoran and Oppenheimer - these character identities are confirmed in the description of the myriad trailer.

With Dan Feng locked up underneath the Scalegorge, Preceptors, specifically Preceptor Suguang, begin their angry letters to Jing Yuan who is now the general.

With the great calamity quelled, the voracious enemy subdued, and the treacherous rebels expelled, the Luofu has once again returned to peace. What a joyous day this is. My people have suffered much in this crisis. The wounded include 12 Preceptors, 253 Pearlkeepers, and 116 alchemists and healers. There are 1285 who have completely perished in this disaster, and over 3000 are still missing. While we lament these losses, we dared not forget our duty. Since the time of the High Elder Yubie, the Vidyadhara of the Luofu have shouldered the duty of keeping watch over the Ambrosial Arbor. However, when the disaster struck and the seals were loosened, all the elites of my people could not return it to its previous form. Therefore, we beseech the Six Charioteers to ask the Ten-Lords Commission to return the sinner Dan Feng to us, let him restore the seals, and mete out his punishment at a later time.

The mentions of the loosened seal are also interesting because in current times, Yueyuan tells us this about the sedition:

Then the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae almost shook the Ambrosial Arbor to its core...

Note that other language translation have 'shook to the core' closer translated to 'uprooted.'

Somehow, I think the Preceptors arranged for the creation of a new High Elder to replace Dan Feng whose fate was unknown to them.

It begins with Dan Feng drinking in the power of the moon and breaking free of his chains. This moon likely contains Long or the Azure dragon in an moon egg (a reference to Neon Genesis Evangelion which is a major inspiration for Hoyo). You can also see Long turn into a moon egg at the beginning of the myriad trailer, so the idea is definitely there.

This event is what brings about the Half-Draconic abomination.

Jingliu brings the cloud knights into the mountain realm:

I do explain why this hole in the clouds is the entrance of the mountain realm in my previous post but it's also reaffirmed in the picture on the sheath:

Also note how the hole in the sky is upside down relative to the moon and the birds flying - this is because the mountain realm is a reflected space as shown in this image inside the Exalting Sanctum's Realm-Keeping Commission building:

Next is the events from Jingliu Character Story Part 4.

Note Yingxing's black hair, implying he is definitely immortal or at least de-aged by this point.

She gasps, barely holding her wounded body together. Far away, deeper in the delve, there came the anguished roar of a dragon, as if a cry seeking deliverance. She watches as the arrogant craftsman falls into mud, and walks up to him like a wraith. "I should kill you first... but you will have your own torment to bear for all eternity..." She points the broken sword at the high elder. "Impossible. The Preceptors said... The blood of my race and the soul of my ancestor should have created another high elder. All this... It shouldn't be like this." "If your death can return everything to how it was, I would do it... But you need to tell me that dragon's weak point right now. "The top of its head..." The half-draconic abomination swims through the air in blasts of lightning. Its body, enough to swallow the very horizon, sunders yet another floating isle. Its wails are loud as the clamors of a thousand swords clashing. She feels her Core Esse boiling, like a ripe wheat grain about to erupt out of its casing and swell eternally. She sees herself trapped in childhood nightmares again. The ominous planet is swallowing her overhead, and she, but an insect, cannot even struggle. The woman tears off a spread of black silk from the edge of her skirt and covers her eyes. The thunder strikes. She leaps up with her sword towards the draconic abomination. In an illusion that feels half like a dream and half like reality, she feels her flesh has finally transcended its limits and has started to disintegrate. There are restraints binding her like strings, tightly wrapped around her limbs and organs, slicing apart her final shreds of self-consciousness bit by bit. Suddenly, she hears those words: "I will cut down even the stars in the sky." At that moment, she finally grasped the sword she had been seeking all this time. It is a sword that can transcend all restrictions. It is a sword she had been familiar with for years. It is not forged from any ordinary iron, but condensed from a shaft of sharp ice. It glows with a dim light, as if it is a strand of moonlight held in the wielder's hand. A sword, 3 feet and 7 inches in length, and weighs nothing.

From a Vidyadhara Egg:

You hear furious roars coming from the Vidyadhara egg and move your ears closer to hear better. A thunderous sound explodes from the mouth of an abomination, and fills up the Scalegorge Waterscape delve as if a thousand swords had clashed together. Every one of your bones rattle from the deafening sound. The abomination falls to the ground with a loud thud. You try your best to steady yourself before examining the abomination. Its semi-draconic head bears long whiskers and flowing beastly fur. You stare into its mercury-like eyes, sensing a hint of fear within them. You think of running away, but there is nowhere to go. The temperature in the air drops all of a sudden, as a shadow drifts past at a speed so fast that it only leaves behind a misty trail. A woman lands on top of the abominable dragon’s head. Her palms hold a ray of frosty light that she stabs downward. In a split second, you see the black veil covering her eyes falling off. Her lips move slightly, and you can faintly hear her utter the word "Sorry." That is not your imagination, as she is also apologizing to you. The next second, ice waves as sharp as knives start spreading like transient flowers in the air, freezing everything they come into contact with, including you.

At some point during the sedition, Dan Feng's own guard refused to betray Dan Feng and was killed:

You touch the shell of the Vidyadhara egg lightly and experience a heartbreaking sensation. Resistant to your touch, the Vidyadhara in the egg is reluctant to leave his memory behind and refuses to believe that his highly respected master has committed the grave sin of rebellion. Roaring, he holds his sword high and charges at the Cloud Knights again and again. He can see his peers whom he used to trust, and the Preceptors whom he used to respect clearly. Their despicable faces are etched in his mind forever. He does not wish to forget. "We… will never betray Master Dan Feng!" Together with the last remaining high elder guards, he braces himself to face the incoming arrows and darkness.

Dan Feng is arrested again and placed in a higher security prison with pins to suppress his power:

From DH:IL 4:

He dreamed of the Dracocatena Nails being staked into his body, and chains of corallium winding around him to hang him in midair in the Shackling Prison. He dreamed the elders coming and going to interrogate him about the truth of the Arcanum and the whereabouts of the dragon heart. He did not speak. He dreamed of the Judges coming before him to read their decision and wanting to sentence him to death. He did not speak.

After the Judges want to sentence him to death - like, proper death and not the rebirth kind of death - Venti intervenes. From An Appeal from the Vidyadhara:

According to the deal between the Alliance and Caelorum Venti of the Yaoqing, the sinner Dan Feng was to be spared from death and instead suffer the punishment of molting rebirth. After that, according to Vidyadhara customs, Dan Feng should have been regarded as a new being and his sins forgiven.

Jing Yuan brought him the news of his verdict (DH:IL 4):

He dreamed of the white-haired Cloud Knight Lieutenant coming to visit him and bringing him news of the Lieutenant's negotiations. The Vidyadhara did not permit him to die, nor did they permit him to leave. He did not speak.

In Oblation Obtained, Order Ordained, Jing Yuan explains this:

Do you know something? When Dan Feng committed his great crime, the Ten-Lords Commission advocated strongly for him to be destroyed. The Vidyadhara, on the other hand, were split evenly in their favor and disfavor of the motion. Haha, the dragon transmutation inheritance was not intact, after all. The senior Vidyadhara hated you, yet did not dare to kill you. The Vidyadhara were under great pressure. In order to placate the Ten-Lords and Sky-Faring Commissions, they performed an exuviation charm on Dan Feng against his will. Still, they ensured that the charm contained a flaw, thinking that this would fool the Ten-Lords Commission. Hmph, the senior Vidyadhara were sure of their scheme, but you cannot hide fire with paper.

After a few centuries living as Dan Heng in the Shackling Prison, Jing Yuan arranges for him to be freed:

Brighter than the Sun Lightcone:

From birth, all that ever lay before him was but a lightless dungeon. To this darkness, irrelevant sins bound him… irrelevant memories engulfed him. He writhed, gasping for breath with every fiber of his being, attempting to clasp a sliver of light in this fathomless ocean. Until the day the general stepped into the lightless depths of this prison, he beheld a radiance shining brighter than the sun – the gaze of a young man.

The Vidyadhara Preceptors, specifically Preceptor Shaoying, were angry about Jing Yuan arranging for Dan Heng to be exiled rather than kept eternally imprisoned. From An Appeal from the Vidyadhara:

I was alarmed to learn that you had signed an exile order to permanently cast out the sinner Dan Feng from the Luofu. Wherefore do you place the reputation of the Luofu's Vidyadhara with this order, general?

However, the Ten-Lords Commission detained him under the guise of educating the young man, while keeping him prisoner in truth. We have endured this for so long due to the truly astounding nature of his sin. Were he not to suffer for some days within the Shackling Prison, the multitudes of Luofu residents would not be appeased in their anger. However, general, you have arbitrarily terminated his sentence and decided to exile Dan Feng. Was this a consensus reached after a discussion with the Six Charioteers? And was this sent to the marshal to be confirmed? If your action stemmed from your past friendship with Dan Feng, then we regret to inform you that we cannot accept such a sentimental gesture. Us Preceptors will appeal to the Alliance and inform the other four High Elders, and we will seek to have you retract this order.

"The Vidyadhara handed us thousands of letters of appeal during the past few centuries... and this one has the harshest wording. They are running out of patience." — Qingzu "The exile was approved by the Ten-Lords Commission. Since Dan Feng had already been reborn and his sins are to be forgotten, why won't the Preceptors allow him to leave this troubled place...? Interesting."

A few more interesting notes

The preceptor assembly chronicle fragment gives some insight into the mentality of three of the preceptors. It more or less says that without Dan Feng (or a High Elder in general) around they seem to be in agreement about ruling as a council, which it can be assumed they were doing up until the creation of the Bloomborn Scion which I discuss in this post.

There is a Vidyadhara Elegy: Insight on "Six Charioteers Adjudicating the Imbibitor Lunae document that is questionable in it's reliability but gives decent insight into the attitudes of the Dan Feng loyalists at the time. They seem to believe that he was strongly rebelling against the Six Charioteers to a point of begging Lan to destroy the Xianzhou.

Another interesting note is that, so far at least, Jingliu's crime is unknown. She was not marastruck until the was already arrested a year after the sedition. As far as we know, she was still an honored person at the time of slaying the half-draconic abomination. It's not clear what she did but her crime was severe enough to get her name removed from the public record. And considering Dan Feng did NOT get his name removed as far as we know, her crime was most likely very severe especially considering how much she could probably get away with because she was the honored sword champion and hero of the Xianzhou.

We also don't know how Yingxing became 'exiled.' He was definitely tortured by Jingliu leading up to his exile, but Yingxing's name is still honored on the Xianzhou so his crimes were never severe enough to get his name removed from the record. It's unclear how the left the Xianzhou and how he lost his memories. Because he had black hair and was unkillable at the time of still defending Dan Feng in Jingliu 4, it can safely be assumed that the process of becoming immortal did not automatically make him lose his memories.

Dan Feng's crimes did NOT include the crime of involuntary immortalization implying that he did not make anyone immortal who was not already willing. This means he did not make Yingxing immortal against his will and he likely did not attempt to resurrect or convert a dead friend into an immortal race.

Anyways this post is very long and I've probably forgotten something but I'll also most likely make an updated version when we get more information. There are a few very possible variations of this timeline but this is the one that currently makes the most sense to me.

#honkai star rail #dan heng #high cloud quintet #the sedition of imbibitor lunae #jingliu #baiheng #jing yuan #hsr lore #dan feng #yingxing

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megan017 · 3 months ago

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Douma x reader idea which I might write a fanfic about later on (I just have to get this out of my mind right now, it's past 1 AM)

You were part of his cult and met him when you two were little children. His parents of course looked at him as a blessing, almost like a God (well, thought that he could talk with them because of his rainbow [KHM KHM PANSEXUAL FLAG] eyes), and didn't want the "dirty", "unworthy" followers to lay a single finger on him, still thought that maybe a friend might be good for Douma. And guess what? You were the one to win this All-So-Mighty leader's attention (don't ask what I'm saying at this point-)

You, as a somewhat innocent child, tried your best to be a good friend with him and suprisigly, your friendship worked out so well, that you even considered eachother best friends (you two were the only friends for eachother, no suprises here). You understood his struggles with emotions and tried to explain to him what they are like. One day, unfortunately, his parents thought that you are taking away their son's attention from the cult and decided to get rid of you in an inhuman way<3. This "inhuman way" just meant that your were sacrificed (killed) right in front of Douma, however they had enough humanity in themselves to let you have your last words, which were:

"I just hope that you will be able to feel emotions one day... Maybe not now..., maybe not soon, but hopefully not too late either..." you said with tears in your eyes as you looked at your best friend, for the last time, with an apologetic smile on your face. "...I'm sorry I couldn't help you feel anything..."

(^Big words from a child, I know, but I will do my research later-)

Aaaaand you get killed BUT NO WORRIES, I planned that you get turned into a demon maybe by Kokushibo<3, I will put this together, already on it. You would have 4 eyes (isn't that cool?) and then reunite with Douma in the Infinity Castle (awww, so romantic, isn't it?) You would remember eachother's faces, one of the only things you can recall from your mortal life, I mean... Who could ever forget HIS face? (Me, with the possibility of face blindness)

Edit 1: GUYS I KNOW! Kokushibo will see his human self in you. Lemme explain! You had a younger sister and as she showed how talented and everything she is, your parents started to turn all their attention towards her and decided that at the age of SOMETHING you get sent somewhere, and this somewhere was a cult (that they didn't know was a cult, but YOU didn't know THEY didn't know, which later on even fueled your anger further). I WILL PUT THIS TOGETHER IN A LOGICAL WAY, TO MAKE IT MAKE SENSE, I SWEAR😭

Edit 2: You will be able to switch between your two forms, your normal, everyday demon look, and a little child form, where you will mostly posses all your child like features you had as a child, people would only be able to tell that you aren't human actually, is my your eyes and teeth. Which you knew. So... The way your lure your prey is my hiding your face and acting, sounding like you are crying. The moment someone approaches you and gets close enough, you attack (almost like a specific SCP, but that creature attack you if you ever saw its face, until then, it hides its face in its hands and, if I know right, cries).

#douma x reader #douma x y/n #douma #kny x reader #kny x y/n #kny x you #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x y/n #🎀megansbs🎀

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forever-eternal · 1 year ago

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My Opinions on the States being Cryptids:

All ‘Monster’ this and ‘Regular People’ that, give me my UNCANNY VALLEY!!!

If you wanna hear my thoughts on Gov and Assistants' Cryptidness and how they, being fragments of a greater whole (Eternity and Infinity) are so very different but so similar to the States, I will be glad to explain my eldritch horrors in human skin as much as I can <3

I’ll also be explaining the ‘Do-Not-Notice-Me’ in another post, and how it affects different personifications :)

———————————————————————

The States aren’t cryptids in the way that they’re monstrous. Aren’t cryptids in the way that they’re so obviously not human that anyone can tell...

They’re crytpids in the way that they look human, they act human, but they aren’t human enough.

Their body temperature is never normal, too hot or too cold and they never seem to notice how it affects the humans around them (they notice, they can’t help it, they learn not to care if it’s not hurting anyone).

Their movements are either too jerky or too smooth, like their bones are in the wrong places or not there at all.

They have no fingerprints, no belly buttons, their eyes seem to look straight through to your very soul (they can see which State you’re from; where you were born and where you have lived in your life. It’s an instinct to check). They have too many teeth, too sharp, too much like animals-- you look again and they look like any other human teeth, but you know what you saw.

They blink, but not enough. They breathe, but not enough. As if they actually have to think about it, as if it’s a manual function and not necessary for their survival.

You think you’ve seen them in photos from your Great Grandpa’s war days, they look exactly the same, some you’ve even seen in history book pages-- but you look again and forget how familiar they are. They look so young, there’s no way they can be so old.

If you ask a doctor, before they forget, they’ll say they’ve never seen any DNA like that. That their blood type does not exist in any existing species science is aware of. That their bodies function like any other human, but the organs and bones are wrong. Like a fake, like something trying so hard to copy the human body and failing.

Their aura of Do-Not-Notice-Me protects them from being noticed most of the time, but sometimes it fails. Sometimes they’re too strange, too inhuman, have too little control in the heat of the moment and people see. They perceive and they process and they notice.

It activates the primal fight-flight-or-freeze response. The one most humans think lost with their ancient ancestors. Noticing the States brings it to the forefront of thought.

They’re strange, they’re wrong...

They’re uncanny.

#welcome to the table #welcome to the table au #wttt gov #wttt assistant #family ties au #wttt #wttt oc #wttt cryptids #uncanny valley #cryptids #wttt states #this WILL be added onto in my one shots

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bittengalaxies · 1 month ago

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Kinktober Day 12: Monsterfucking & Cosmic Horror! Engi

1461 words

Cosmic Horror!Head Engineer, AFAB!Reader Captain

(Oh lord, this makes 2 different tentacle fics this month, yes the other one is later in the month, don'T LOOK AT ME. Original concept by @echo-echo31. Captain in this really went "FULL CONSENT BABY LET'S GO")

Contains: Tentacles, biting, the most inhuman dick known to man, oral, deepthroating, facefucking, double penetration, spitroasting, size difference, teratophilia, restraints with tentacles, overstimulation, degradation, SO MUCH DIRTY TALK, use of "whore" and "slut", knotting

The tentacles holding you writhe gently as you look into the eyes of the man who is your head engineer...though maybe man isn't the right word for him. The being, smiled at you, a mockery of the soft smiles you've gotten from him before. Or maybe not quite a mockery, and more of a hunger.

You eyes his teeth, sharp and deadly. The long tongue that ran over them, anticipating his prey...you. And god, what you thought was sinful enough it brought heat to your cheeks. Granted, hard not to think sinful thoughts when you couldn't help notice the claws he had instead of fingertips, or the way his cock was...you had only ever seen toys in sex shops look even remotely close, and they all paled in comparison to what was before you now.

"Poor little Captain. I'm going to make sure you know who's in charge here...it's just you and me, and the crew all in cryo."

The tentacles shifted again, teasing you through the uniform, and you whined. "Yes, yes, please. Yes? Yes."

That gave him pause. "Wha...I. I'm a being from the edge of reality--"

"Hot."

"Here to have my way with you." You nodded eagerly, taking in how the room seemed to fill with more of those inky-infinity colored tentacles, all of varying sizes. "To fuck you like a toy."

"Yes. Please. I am down. Full consent."

It's the most human he's looked since he ambushed you, dragging you into his room. He simply just blinks at you, confused. "You...want this?"

"There are so many tentacles in this room, and your dick looks like the best time I could possibly ever have."

"...Oh."

"Look, my hands are kind of tied? Well, you're holding them above my head, I can't get undressed, but help a captain out, and then you can do anything you want."

"Deal." You aren't so much as undressed as your clothes are shredded off of you, and now that he has a clear sight of you, it's very very obvious to him you're into this. "You're soaking wet, already...I wonder how you taste."

The tentacles holding your legs spread them open, moving you so your hips are level with his head. Those clawed hands force your legs apart further, laying you open as he takes that proper taste, tongue flicking over your clit. You cry out, whining when it's too quick, not enough. And then his mouth is around you, tongue pressing into your cunt and savouring the taste of you fully. Shapeshifting has to be part of his deal, because his tongue is thicker now, writhing in you, pressing deliciously in all the right places, and you know you're going to cum so fast at this pace.

And you do, moaning and flexing against his hands, trying to trap his head there to keep going. Instead, he takes his time to pull back, licking his lips. "Delicious."

You're flipped forward and lowered, that inhuman cock right in front of you and dripping with what has to be an equivalent of precum. Honestly, just seeing that and knowing your legs are still spread wide makes your mouth water, wanting to know what's coming next. You could wait for him to speak, but you pull as far forward against the tentacles as you can, wrapping your lips around the head of him. He moans, moving forward to give you more, letting the thick, textured shaft slip further into your mouth.

"You know, Captain," he purrs as he threads those claws into your hair, starting to thrust slowly, to let you adjust to the size of him before he presses further in. "If I had known you were this much of a whore, I would have fucked you well before now." You moan at his words, making him thrust harder. It feels so good, deepthroating him like this, thought you're surprised at how you don't choke on him. Maybe another part of his inhuman nature, allowing you to take him like this.

The thought barely has time to pass as he stops, holding your head in place where he's fully sunk into your mouth. "Can't have that delicious cunt of yours empty, though." His words are your only warning as small tentacles brush over your pussy and clit. One circles your clit, leaving the tip to slowly undulate over the surface of it, creating a glorious pressure that brings tears to your eyes and makes you clench on empty air. The others spread you open, as a much thicker tentacle pushes its way in, filling you so much. Once it fills you, and how it does, the smaller ones push in alongside it, spiraling around it to add even more to that feeling.

And so begins this round, of the creature, of the monster fucking your throat in perfect timing to rock you back onto the tentacle. In turn, the tentacles push you back onto his cock, a perfect slow descent into feeling full in a way that you could never accomplish any other way. The pace speeds up slowly, more and more, until you feel the cock in your mouth twitch hard. That's all the warning you have before he slams hard into your throat, the tentacle mimicking the motion in your cunt, as he cums. It's so much, and you're lucky he's already so deep in your throat that you don't have to worry about choking on it. Not like you can really truly process it with how hard you're cumming yourself, a wordless scream making him groan and dig those claws into your scalp to hold you in place.

"...Well, well, well. Captain is a slut." Slowly, he pulls out, still hard, and you weakly chuckle. The tentacles haven't left you, leaving you overstimulated in that delicious pleasure-pain sort of way. "A sweet little whore. How much more can you take, I wonder?"

You're moved upright, gravity sinking you only so much further down on the tentacle still filling you. Once more, he steps in, claws, caressing your cheek. "Not too brainless yet, are you, Captain?"

You shake your head, grinning. "K-keep go-going, this...this is amazing."

Your head engineer laughs, his hard cock brushing your hips. "Addicted to this already, are you? Maybe I should keep you like this always."

"Please do."

"...I can tell you're sincere about that." The lust fades away, just a little, until it returns full force. Once more, you're lifted ever so slightly, as he lines himself up. "I think my good whore of a Captain can take more."

It's a moment where you realize what he's going to do, you're about to tell him he won't fit, not alongside the tentacle that's as thick as his cock, and he presses in. The tentacles holding you up by your arms pull back, gravity pulling you further down. But it's not all the way. His clawed hands take your waist, pulling you down hard as he thrusts up, filling your cunt further. You do scream out, calling the name you've known him by as you pull him to you. The desperate noise turns into a whine, and surprisingly, he pauses.

"Is it too much?" You feel the tentacle start to slip out, and you clench hard.

"No. Just. A lot. Keep...keep going. Please. I...I need it."

The moan he lets out in deep and rumbling and endless, like it's echoing through eternity to return to you. "Then you'll have it. You'll have all of it."It's a promise and a threat, and you know it for one, as he moves you with ease, slamming you down over and over to be fully seated on his cock. There's not an iota of space in you for anything but him, all of him, in all these ways. You cum countless times, your body feeling on fire and floating at the same time as he bites down, hard, on your shoulder.

And this time you're a little more aware of just how much cum he's filling you with. The tentacles definitely produce something, thin and slick, but his cum is thick, his orgasm forceful and hard. You didn't know you could cum from how hard someone else cums before, but you now know that you can. At least with him.

Slowly, the tentacle pulls free, the one around your clit loosening and slipping away, until your cunt is full of nothing but his cock and his cum. And then, there's another pressure, and you feel it fill you, leaving you gasping and clawing at his back.

"Shhh, Captain. Just breathe."

"Wh..is...did you just knot me?"

"Yes."

"...Fuck yes."

His laugh shakes eternity, jostles you into a moan, but it's full of dark delight.

He's going to enjoy playing with you forever.

#spicy fey time #nsft #nova kinktober 2024 #markiplier egos #iswm head engineer #cosmic horror head engineer #monsterfucker captain #captaineer #iswm #iswm captain #space sweetheart

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