#shes very powerful but not the best at honing her skills

[miss-mossball]

Delphine, oracle of visions

[juletheghoul]

Solus

a/n: I am genuinely obsessed with Marcus Acacius and the thought of him being a gladiator and wanting nothing but you? Imagine? Ughhhh I just want him so bad 😩, please feel free to send in thots, requests, even just musings about him 💕 not beta’d and barely proofread!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, special contraceptive tea, girlie and her bestie gossiping about Marcus and his skills, body / breast worship, Marcus and girlie are really fucking into one another, very possessive of one another in the best way (reader is a slave so there is a power imbalance but so is Marcus), gladiatorial violence, nothing graphic- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 3.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

She is short with you when you greet her back in the main house. There is a look in her eye, a nervous flitting about your form and it falls into place when she beckons you closer; it is worry.

“Did he hurt you? Was he rough in his taking of you?” She gestures to one of the other girls that attended her, calling for something while looking over the parts of you not covered by fabric. 

“No Domina, he was very gentle, mostly.” Head bowed in deference, you turn and show her that you are in fact whole, albeit pleasantly sore.

“Gentle? Truly?” She frowns, shocked but shrugs it off, “that is good, I was worried his brutality would land upon you. Did he spill inside you? I have had the tea made to prevent any issue from your union.” 

Memories flash through your mind as a cup of the aforementioned tea is placed in your hands of all the different ways he had filled you. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the feel of it drying on your inner thighs.

“Yes Domina, many times.” 

“Drink, I imagine you must be exhausted.” She sighs, watching as you gulp down the bitter mixture. “Take a rest and come back to me once you have slept a while and cleansed yourself of his lust.”

“Yes Domina.” You bow again, and head for your chamber.

-

He felt invigorated, despite the fact that he had gotten barely any rest. Her arousal was still smeared all over his cock, all over his fingers and the thought of him carrying her with him into the ludus where he lived and trained kept the smile plastered on his face. 

The other men were already up and training, honing their skills in hopes of advancing. He took his time making his way to his own training, taking a moment to himself to think about all the things he’d done to her, all of the sighs and whimpers he’d gotten out of her, the sweet moans that had burned themselves into his ears. Let himself imagine for a moment, the next time he’d win and ask for her, what other delights he could bestow upon her. 

Most of his brothers ignored him when he finally went out to train, the ones closest to him gave him a nod and he nodded back. With sword in hand, and the sun on his back, he put the softness of her skin and her pink, honeyed tongue away and focused. 

-

Cassia, your closest friend found you in the kitchens after having rested. 

“You must tell me everything!” her nails dug into your arm, her excitement a visceral, violent thing and you laughed at the way her eyes were as big as an owls. 

“Everything? What is there to tell? He took my virtue.” You smile to yourself, filing the tray with things for your Domina to eat while Cassia shook with excitement beside you. 

“Oh, is that all? The fiercest Gladiator asked for you as his prize and this is the answer you give me? And I called you friend!” She pouts, indignant at your lack of candor. Your mouth betrays you and you smile before shaking your head. 

“Very well, I will give you all of the details you desire. Ask me, and I will share.” With your full tray in your hands, you gesture for her to follow you and she does with a mischievous grin on her face. 

“What was it like? Was it terribly painful?” She held onto your arm, careful not to jostle your tray. 

“It stung, burned a little at first, but only at first. He made it quite enjoyable so by the end of the night it felt wonderful.” You sighed, remembering his face as you rode him just how he liked. 

“Was it big? His cock?” She blushed prettily, her pale skin going pink as a flower. 

“Yes, it was big, thick as well. I confess I did not think it would fit.” You laughed, and she giggled, going even more red. “He surprised me, for as much as we thought him a brute, he was very soft, sweet and affectionate. I enjoyed my time with him very much and I hope…” She raises her eyebrows, shocked at what you might say. 

“I hope that he calls for me again.” You press forward, defiant, and honest. 

“You wanton thing!” She laughs, delighted. “I pray to the Gods that my virtue may be taken by one as worthy, and as skilled since you are already begging for a repeat performance.” She laughs and you bump her shoulder with hers playfully, balancing the tray as she separates from you. She casts a wink your way before returning to her duties, and letting you tend to the Domina. 

She says nothing when you bring her the tray, and you fall back into your usual rhythm of servitude easily. 

Weeks pass, and the training in the ludus below intensifies as another game is lined up by your Dominus. There’s a craving within you now though, a new one that follows you around no matter where you go. That ache that he had built up in that stiff bed below with his fingers and with his tongue resurfaced every so often with an intensity you couldn’t understand. 

Whenever you saw him below, whenever you caught his eye, visions of him above you, below you—inside you filled your mind like wine filling a cup. Heat flooded your body, arousal collected at the mouth of your cunt and it was hard to focus on anything beyond the ghost of his filling stretch.

-

When the games finally came, you found yourself paying much more attention to them than you ever had before. Silently cheering for him and praying to all of the Gods that he would come out victorious, while secretly praying that he’d ask for you once more. 

There was yet another feeling now however, as you watched him make quick work of his opponents. A fear that settled low in your belly, deep in your heart as he took a minor blow that he would fall, that you would have to stand there and serve your Domina while watching him die. A shiver ran down your spine to imagine it. 

“Victorious again!” Your Dominus laughed, collecting coin from those who had bet against Marcus. It angered you, that they would bet against him. There was a curious sense of ownership battling for dominance amongst all your newfound feelings. He felt yours, and you felt his. So strange, considering it has only been one night, and there was no guarantee he’d been speaking the truth.

You tried to put it out of your mind as you made your way back home, focused on the tasks at hand and suppressed the hope swelling within when the Dominus called him forth once more. He did not keep you in suspense, his eyes found yours instantly, staring with open desire and your Dominus was quick to catch on.

“Shall I send her down with you once more? Would you not care for another girl? One yet untouched?” The master of the house gestured to others that served alongside you, and you didn’t fail to note the gleam of hope in some of them, in Cassia.

“No Dominus. I desire only her.” He smiled, eyes focused on your form and his heat engulfed you. 

“Very well.” He gestured to you and you obeyed, marginally happier than the first time. 

There was no preamble this time, as soon as you crossed the threshold of that room he was on you. His mouth claiming yours hungrily, his hands landing heavy on your backside. You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He smelled of blood, sweat and victory. 

“Gods above, how I have ached for you my sweet.” His hands grabbed at you, pawing at every bit of you he could reach while he mouthed at your neck, building the fires of arousal within you.

“I must confess, I have ached for you as well.” He groaned, biting at your ear. You pushed him away for a moment, guiding him to the basin to wipe the gore away from his skin. 

“Tell me.” His eyes were frantic, roving over you as though you might disappear if he did not watch you while he made quick work of divesting himself of his soiled armour. With a shy smile, you wring the cloth and set to cleaning the grime from his beautiful face.

“I have ached for you to fill me once more, to take me and give me the same pleasure as you did the first time.” You watched your hands as you worked, blood pounding in your chest and in your cunt to confess your secret thoughts. His fingers pinched your chin softly, guiding your eyes to meet his.

“Did you touch yourself, thinking of my hands?” 

His gaze was so intense, filled with such fire that you could barely move, could barely breathe under the weight of it. Memories of your self exploration in the nights leading up to the games filled your mind. 

“Yes, so many times.” 

Silently he took the cloth from you, making quick work of cleansing himself before discarding it and now he looked so much like he did in the arena, stalking, hunting you down like prey but it did not scare you. If anything, it only inflamed your passion, made your cunt drool its arousal onto your inner thighs. 

“Do you know that you have not left my thoughts since that night? Since before that, I cannot think of anything else. Just your face, your body, your smile—“ he pressed close enough that you had to tilt your face up to keep his gaze, swallowing thickly at his open desire.

With his eyes holding you still, he removes your tunic and his. His manhood is just as thick, just as heavy and stiff for you. It smears his own pearly want against the goose flesh spreading across your belly.

“How do you want me?” Tentatively, you caress his ribs, sliding up to feel the firm golden skin of his chest. 

“I want you in every way there is to want a woman.” He cuts the whimper from your mouth off with a kiss, his words, his touch; it bolsters you and you guide him to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Then I shall ride you, just as you like.” There’s a pretty flush on his cheeks, spreading down his neck and despite your limited experience, you feel like nothing short of a goddess lining him up and sinking slowly onto his cock.

His unabashed moan of pleasure helps with the stretch of his manhood.

“It feels so much better this time.” Your voice sounds different, wanton, confident. It does feel better, the thick pillar of his sex stretching you enough to make you whimper into his mouth.

He groans from deep in his chest, a rumble that makes your body heat from the inside out. Ever since that night you’d been dreaming of this, of having him want you again, fill you again and it’s so much better than your late night fantasies. With trembling thighs you roll your hips, grinding yourself against him, holding onto his strong golden shoulders for purchase. 

His hands grab onto your hips, squeezing at the flesh and guiding your movements. His breath comes out in small pants and there’s so much about him to admire it’s difficult to settle on just one aspect. His strength is obvious. Muscles honed with sword and shield ripple and cord under your fingers. The long line of his neck begs for your lips, beckons you to taste the salt that collects there and you do, drawing a surprised yet filthy sound from him. It spurs you on, your tongue traveling up to his ear to bite at the lobe. 

“Your tight little cunt is going to milk me dry.” You cannot help but smile, a victory of your own shining brightly within at the knowledge of how much pleasure he gains from your body. 

“I am ready, fill me again, I want to feel it deep inside me.” Your lips press against his, your arms wrap tighter around his neck to press yourself closer as you ride him quicker. His arms wrap around your ribs, holding you just as tightly, your nipples hard as pebbles against his chest as he all but bounces you on his cock. 

Sweat beads at his hairline, the effort of using you to fuck himself evident in the gorgeous flush in his cheeks. Your tongue slides across the plump of his bottom lip and he almost growls before offering his own. It’s vulgar, the way your tongues meet without actually kissing, the wet sounds of your joining, it all adds to the heat blooming in your spine. The tingling in your breasts, in your core and when he spreads his legs a little wider something shifts and he’s deeper. You cry out, begging, babbling at him to keep going, just there, please and he obeys. 

The pleasure is a hot dagger through your being, making you seize and squeeze him all the tighter, it is the catalyst for his own release and the spurt of him only adds to your experience. 

You catch your breath, panting while your body feels like a raw nerve, pulsing, clenching, pounding in sync with with your heart. His lips press against your neck, from the sensitive spot just below your ear down to the curve of your shoulder. His calloused hands rub at your back while your muscles loosen. 

You pulled his face up to kiss him once more, enamoured with the taste of his tongue and felt him smile into it. 

He needs time to recover, and so you lay in the bed next to him. Both of you naked as the day you were born. Your fingers trace mindless shapes onto his chest while his hands travel from the slope of your shoulder, down to the swell of your ass. 

“Why did you choose me?” His head turns at your question. “From amongst all the slaves, all of the women who serve in this house… why me?”

“Why? Because I desire you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, you frown.

“You desire me? That is all? Do you not desire any other?”

“No, I do not. I have been in this house for years and while my body desires this-“ he grabbed at your ass, “it is not something I indulge in very often. I have watched you grow from a girl into a woman and you have wormed your way into my brain. I do not know why, but I desire you above all others.” He pulls your face up, pressing a kiss to your mouth. 

“And then once you had me? What did you feel then?”

“I felt joy, that you are sweet as well as beautiful. I felt gratitude that you feel desire for me as well, that you make me laugh, that you feel so good here in my arms… shall I go on?” He grins at the way you cannot hide your happiness, that the shy smile grows on your lips as he confesses and when you nod he pushes you onto your back and slips to slot himself between your legs. 

“I feel confident that I please you, I feel pride when your cunt gets wet for me. I love that you are adventurous and brave and willing to try all of the filthy things I want to do to you.” Your fingers twirl the strands of his hair as he dips his head to lick at your nipples. 

“I feel possessive of you, to know that no one touches you like me, no one else gets to taste your breasts, no one else gets to fill you the way I do.” His cock glides through the combined mess of your joining.

You hum as he worships you, smiling and preening under his words.

“I confess, I enjoy it, being the object of your desire. I was scared you would pick someone else.” Your legs hitch high on his hips, wrapping around to press against his lower back.

“Hmmm, did you now? Did it make you jealous? the thought of me giving this—“ he knotches himself at your entrance, pushing inside with a slow thrust, “—to someone else?”

“Yes—especially with how excited the other girls were for you to choose. One of them asked me what it was like, what you were like.” It’s slow, decadent the way he fucks you. He presses deep enough to kiss your womb before pulling almost all the way out, then presses deeply again. He does not speed up, he does not vary the pressure. 

“And what did you tell her?” His arms bracket your skull, anchoring himself so he can keep up his stamina.

“I told her the truth, that you made it feel so good, that your cock is so big, so thick, that I hoped you called for me again.” You moan the words into his mouth, meeting his thrusts with your own slow roll. 

“Not too big for you, nothing you cannot handle hmm? Nothing this perfect cunt cannot handle, my cunt—“ his words affect even him, his hips speed up, a wet, vulgar sound with every plunge ringing through the room.

“Is it mine?” He asks with a grin but all you can do is focus on how good it feels, how he hits that sacred spot within with every press. 

“Answer me, whose cunt is this?” He slides one knee up for purchase pulling inhuman moans from you.

“Yours, it’s yours, Gods above, don’t stop—“ your hand slides down to glide your fingers against your achy clit, slipping down first to feel yourself spread wide around him. 

It only takes a few delicious swirls before you’re clenching around him, fluttering with your orgasm while his hips move faster, groaning around the tightness of your climax while he chases his own end.

“Going to fucking fill you to the brim, going to be leaking out of you for fucking days—“ he crashes into his own pleasure, barely getting his words out before grinding himself deep enough to hurt, moaning unabashedly, loudly enough that half the house must have heard him.

He collapses onto you, his face pressed into the damp crook of your neck—his sweat soaked skin slipping against yours while you both catch your breath. Your legs wrap tighter around him, holding him inside. The sunkissed, freckly skin of his shoulders is warm under the press of your lips. His voice in your ear is soothing, the low hum of appreciation for the affection you freely give him, something you’re sure he hasn’t received in years. 

It takes him a few minutes to move but you don’t mind. The weight of him is welcome, he isn’t the only one starved for touch and he gives it just as freely as you do. He does not let you separate from him. Even as he falls asleep, you are wrapped up in his embrace. 

You admire him as he rests. The dark fan of his lashes, the silver strands of his hair, so fine between your fingers, the almost boyish purse of his lips. He does not wake when you press your mouth to his, he only tightens his grip, pulls you closer to him. You smile despite the conflict within, you want him to rest. His efforts in the arena are no small thing and with the way the night has gone he must be exhausted. 

Another desire burns within you as well though; that he’ll wake because of you, that before morning comes you will be just as full and pleasantly sore as the first time.

-

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[the-fiction-witch]

We Could Help

Media - House Of The Dragon Characters - Lucerys Velaryon & Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Lucerys Velaryon X Reader X Jacaerys Velaryon Reader - Y/n (Rhaynera's Sister, wife of Gwanye Hightower) Rating - 18 + smut / incest / threeway / foreplay / fingering / breast play / nipple play / breast sucking / licking / masturbating / stripping / fingering / ejaculate / Word Count - 1848

Requested -

hello, can u please write a smut fic with Jace x Reader x Luke? the reader is Rhaenyra's sister, they are very close. she went to Dragonstone to spend some time with them, when she arrived Jace and Luke were training with the sword, when they went to greet her in her chambers she start complaining that her breast hurt from her previous pregnancy, so both Jace and Luke tell her they can help her, both put one of her tits in their mouths and begin to suck her breasts and they completely strip her of her dress while touching themselves, Reader lets them do it and is amused by their resourcefulness, she too gets very excited ♥️

Jacaerys and Lucerys stood on the pristine beach of Dragonstone, the ancient castle looming behind them against a backdrop of clear blue skies. The Knight Ser Lucas diligently watched over them as they honed their swordsmanship skills with their practice blades. The metallic clang of steel meeting steel reverberated through the air, mingling with the rhythmic symphony of waves relentlessly crashing onto the soft, golden sand.

Lucerys turns his head slightly seeming to catch some sound in his ear,

“Attention Lucerys!” Ser Lucas reminds,

“Yes Ser,” Lucerys nodded,

“Actually…” Jacaerys stopped briefly too as he perked up a little,

“You heard it too!” Lucerys argued,

“Nope,” Jacaerys chuckled swinging at his brother’s ankles and knocking him to the floor,

“... ughh dick,” Lucerys complained as he landed on the wet sand,

Jace dragged Luke back up to his feet much to Luke’s annoyance,

“Jace!” He complained pushing him off,

“...Wait,” Jacaerys began looking across the sky,

“I’m not falling for it again,” Lucerys sighed,

As everyone held their breath, a deafening screech pierced the air, announcing the arrival of a magnificent black and blue dragon. Its colossal wings momentarily blocked the sun as it soared downwards, its claws skimming the water's surface as it raced past the beach at an exhilarating speed. The boys instinctively crouched as the dragon swooped by, its sheer power and size leaving them in awe. After a thrilling display, the dragon gracefully circled back and ascended towards the entrance of the dragon mount.

Lucerys and Jacaerys met eyes and spoke simultaneously, “Aunt Y/n,”

“Ser Lucas may we-” Jacaerys began,

“No.” Ser Lucas answered,

“Please Ser,” Lucerys begged,

“... Alright,” Ser Lucas sighed,

“Yes!” Jacaerys immediately stabbed his sword and bolted for the stairwell,

Lucerys handed Ser Lucas his sword and bolted after his brother, “Thank you, Ser Lucas!” He called as he ran,

Jacaerys and Lucerys sprinted through the dimly lit corridors of Dragonstone castle, their urgent footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls. Their only focus was reaching the chamber where they knew she would be. As they finally arrived at the towering door, their pounding hearts drove them to push it open without pause, disregarding any formalities like knocking. They darted inside, the rush of air displaced by their entrance swirling around the room as they came to a sudden halt, gasping for breath after their full-tilt sprint.

“Can- Can- Can we see the baby?” Jacaerys gasped,

“Please,” Lucerys whimpered,

Y/n turned from the small wooden crib still dressed in her dragon riding attire, of black leather trousers, boots, and a laced-up red leather jacket, she rested a hand on her hip and jokingly spoke, “Hello Aunt Y/n, How are you? How was your journey?”

“Sorry Aunt Y/n…” Lucerys blushed, “But can we… pretty please?”

“Yes come on, but you must be quiet,” she told them,

Both did their best to bolt over as quietly as they could to the little carved cradle where the newborn lay,

“She fell asleep on dragon back on the way here,”

“She’s so cute!” Luke smiled,

“Shhhh...” she reminds,

“Sorry… she’s so cute,” he whispered,

“She really is, she’s so beautiful Aunt Y/n,” Jace smiled,

“I know I do make the most beautiful kids don’t I,” she chuckled,

“What’s her name?” Luke asked,

“Samara,” she smiled,

“Samara Targaryen,” Jace cooed,

“Samara Hightower,” She corrected,

“Can we hold her? Please!” Luke begged,

“Alright,” she nodded, she gently picked up baby Samara in her arms which woke the little baby, she cooed and gave the little baby kisses, “Here we are, good morning little lady, did you have a nice nap?”

Samara began to whimper and whine,

“Who wants to go first?” Y/n cooed,

“Please! Please please!” Luke begged, jumping over Jace before he could even speak,

“Alright, support her head, and keep still,” She explained as she slowly handed baby Samara over to Lucerys, making sure he held her correctly. “There we go,”

Lucerys gasped as he cradled baby Samara, he smiled down at her and cooed at her, “...She’s the most perfect little thing in the world,”

“She’s so cute and cuddly,” Jacaerys smiled,

“She likes you,” Y/n chuckled,

“She does!” Luke asked,

“She’s not screaming, so she likes you,”

“Can I hold her?” Jacaerys asked,

“It’s my turn!” Lucaerys complained,

“Hand her over,” Y/n told him,

Luke sighed and kissed baby Samara on the head before handing her over to Jacaerys,

“Aww… hello, aren’t you a beautiful little lady,” Jace cooed, “Look at you,” He smiled,

“She is perfect,” Luke cooed,

“You boys enjoy taking care of her,” Y/n chuckled as she sat down on her couch, leaning her head back and sighed,

“You alright Aunt Y/n?” Luke asked,

“I’ll be fine boys,” She nodded,

“You sure?” Jacaerys asked,

“It’s nothing, it’s just tenderness.”

“Tenderness?! Are you okay!” Luke asked,

“It’s fine,” she chuckled, “Put her down now let her sleep,”

Jace nodded and kissed baby Samara before laying her down in her crib, both boys cooed at her as she yawned and happily continued to nap.

“What’s wrong?” Jacaerys came over with Lucerys in tow, the boys looming lovingly over their beloved aunt,

She rolled her eyes a little, “Well, as you boys will know baby Samara is breastfeeding,” She explained, “I don’t like the nursemaids nursing her it makes me feel very uncomfortable,” She said, “And given how much she feeds they get sore, tired, and I keep having to swap her over or one breast will get painful and uncomfortable.”

“Oh…” Luke nodded,

“It hurts?” Jace asked,

“It can do, I’ll be fine maybe I’ll give them a squeeze and expel some milk or something to make them feel better,” she said closing her eyes as she leaned back,

Jacaerys and Lucerys met eyes speaking to each other silently, before they looked back to Y/n,

“We… We could help,” Jace suggested,

“Humm?” She opened one eye and raised an eyebrow,

“We could help you, we could like… massage them,” Jace suggested,

“And suck on them,” Luke added, “If that would help?”

“Really?” she chuckled,

Both nodded,

“Alright,” She chuckled, “You boys can be helpful,” She smiled turning a little and starting to unlace her jacket pushing it off her shoulders,

Lucerys and Jacaerys came and knelt at her feet excitedly,

Finally, Y/n pulled open her shirt her bare breasts bounced as they were set loose,

Jace licked his lips, and Luke bit his bottom lip, both already getting erections from the meer sight of her,

“Can we?” Luke asked,

“Yes, go on,” she cooed,

Luke moved first taking her left breast in hand, softly fondling her, a moan falling from his lips.

Jace took the right breast soon after, squeezing and massaging her breast,

“Humm… very resourceful boys aren’t you,” She cooed,

“You feel so good…” Jacaerys groans,

“Can we suck? Please…” Lucerys begged,

“Yes go on,” She nodded,

Jace moved first moving up to kneel on the couch and kiss Y/n’s neck, moving down until his lips met her nipple, he gently settled his lips around her nipple and swirled his tongue in a clockwise circle a few times, before he began to softly suck, he groaned and his eyes rolled back as he got pleasure from this, his hips bucking up towards her leg as his erection grew harder,

“Uhh gentle Jacaerys.” she gasps, “Come on Luke darling,”

Luke happily came closer clamped his lips around her nipple and began to softly suck, he moaned hugging her leg tightly and flicking his tongue against her,

“Uhhhh!” she groans, “Get into a rhythm boys,” She cooed stroking their heir to lull them both to suck in the same rhythm,

Both suckled happily both only getting more and more horny as they suck on her breasts,

“Ughhh-” she moaned, she opened her eyes looking down at them,

Just as Lucerys moved his hands away from her leg and began unlacing his britches,

“Luke!” She laughed,

“Umm umm I can’t help it,” Luke whined as he pushed down his britches enough to free his hard throbbing erection and take it in his hand, “Umm! Ughh Aunt Y/n!” Luke moaned taking her breast back into his lips and sucking once more as he stroked and jerked his cock,

“Fuck! I can’t either!” Jace pulled back unlacing his own and pushing them down until his own hard cock jumped free into his expecting hand, “uuh- uuuughhh!” Jace moaned loudly returning to sucking on her breast as he started to jerk off,

Y/n chuckled and blushed a little seeing them so addicted to this, she moaned and groaned softly as she relaxed into their massage and sucking, often enjoying the sparks of pleasure they caused her,

Luke moved his hands from himself and began tugging at her clothes,

“Hey!” she chuckled, but didn’t stop him,

“Yes fuck yes!” Jace groaned as he moved his hands to her clothes too,

Lucerys and Jacacerys together ripped her clothes from her body, leaving her naked on the couch,

“You two are getting a little over-excited,” she laughed, as they both attached themselves to her breasts once more, their hands returning to their hard cocks jerking off hard and fast in their desperation. “Uhh! Boys!” She moaned softly, “Luke!” She squealed,

As Luke took his other hand sliding up her leg and diving his two fingers into her already dripping cunt,

“Ahh! Luke!” She screamed throwing her head back in pleasure,

“Ummm…” Jace groaned moving his spare hand up to her clit too rubbing on it hard as Luke thrusted his fingers, both boys still sucking on her breasts and touching themselves,

“Ohh fuck- boys! Slow down I’ll-” she gasped arching her back and twisting her hands in both their hair as she was forced closer and closer to her orgasm but both Luke and Jace sped up their hands, their mouths, everything they could possibly do to get her closer, “Ahhh! Ughhh!” She screamed reaching her orgasm squirting down Luke’s fingers, her hips bucking up against their hands, her head thrown back, her body trembling, tugging their heads closer to her breasts.

As she hit her orgasm, Luke hit his own moaning against her breast and sending his seed across her leg and ankle, before he pulled away and laid his head against her thigh,

Jace wasn’t long either pulling away to bite hard on his lips and sending his seed across the floor, before he collapsed on her other thigh.

“... did… did we make you feel better Aunt Y/n?” Jace asked between gasping,

“Very much boys,” she nodded,

“We’re happy to help, whenever you want us to,” Luke cooed,

“I shall have to visit more often,” She smirked…

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Duet of Fire and Fate

Part One | Series Masterlist

Summary: his music school having been challenged by Riverrun Conservatory, Aemond is given the opportunity to come face to face with their top musician | Word Count: 4.7k~ | Warnings: smut (not with the main female character), toxic relationship, semi-public sex

Nothing quite compared to the low hum, and delicate whine of a cello. It had been that way for some time, ever since he'd discovered it.

Aemond still remembers the look on his mother's face, her chocolate eyes wide with pride and joy, when her son who was still freshly mutilated, resulting in the loss of sight in his left eye, took an interest in playing classical music.

The cello had become more than just an instrument to Aemond; it was his refuge, his voice in a world that had grown suddenly more silent and unforgiving. The accident had not just taken half his sight but had cast a shadow over his once bright future. Music, however, brought light back into his life, offering a path forward that he had never anticipated.

The Targaryen name, synonymous with power and prestige in other realms, here lent an aura of intrigue and expectation to his performances. Yet, it was Aemond's own skill, the raw emotion he channelled through the strings of his cello, that captivated audiences. His music was a blend of classical elegance and a palpable intensity that seemed to stem from the very depths of his being.

And Aemond was nothing if not a perfectionist at heart.

He perfected everything, to the point of madness some felt. And if he had not invited a feeling of deep, primal intrigue from every performance he gave, then what was the point? This innocent hobby at first, honed by his parents and caregivers alike, was now a way of life. A career. Something to strive for.

As he became older, this competitive nature never wavered once. He embraced it like a challenge to be met. And the conductor of this prestigious school, Otto Hightower, both a friend of his father, Viserys, a business giant well-known across all of Westeros, and conveniently his grandfather, expected nothing short of the best from his prodigious grandson.

He was never self-conscious either, even if he was easily noticeable and stared upon everywhere he went. And one might expect little attention from the opposite sex in a world of classical music and elegant instruments, but for Aemond this could not have been less true.

He attracted in every show, not only with his talent but with his haunting appearance. The straight long scar through his left eye was struck in the middle by a pale blue pupil, his other seeing eye stark in comparison. Women would watch his slender fingers strike fear, passion and energy into their hearts, wishing the very same could grip at their skin.

To their frustrations, he never acted on this popularity.

Alys Rivers was the only woman he ever reciprocated affections of some kind for. At least two decades his senior, his family had been less than impressed at her presence in his life. But there was no choice on their part. Aemond had made his, and Alys Rivers, like it or not, was his muse. A classical music lover at heart. And a professional critic no less.

One might be forgiven for thinking they disliked each other, they rarely exhibited romance. She was more akin to his manager than anyone else, critiquing his manner of playing and giving advice where he didn't want it. And he rewarded her, away from the prying eyes of the public, with quick, angry sex, exerting what control he did have, into intimacy.

She, like him, had a haunting presence to her, but one less mysterious. More overtly seductive. And though sometimes it seemed to irk Aemond, some felt as if they were still acquainted by convenience if nothing else.

Aemond always arrived early to Kings Landing Music College. The stuffy, wood-panelled room gave some semblance of comfort. There was something about the acoustics, the closeness, that felt almost womb-like. Safe. Familiar.

Meticulously, tuning his cello, he half-listened to the skinny, pink-faced Blackwood, practicing at the same time, “sound like a fucking dying pig.”

“Half dying,” Aemond murmured, with a roll of his eyes.

Otto waltzed in, clad in black slacks and a loose forest-green jumper, “Blackwood, get your fucking instrument in tune please. Fucking Cole could do a better job in violas.”

Criston twirled two Timpani sticks between his fingers, giving a look of mock offence from across the room, “just because I'm over here doesn't mean I can't hear you-”

“Alright, alright, before we begin today’s practice, I have an announcement,” Otto declared, his voice commanding attention. The room quickly fell silent, the anticipation palpable in the air.

“We’ve been challenged to a competition by the Riverrun Conservatory,” Otto revealed, his eyes sweeping across the room, measuring the reaction to his words. The announcement ignited a buzz among the musicians, the rivalry between the schools notorious for its intensity. 

“This isn’t just any friendly showcase. It’s a direct confrontation on neutral ground at the upcoming city arts festival. We will be judged on technique, emotional expression, and the complexity of our performance.”

Aemond’s pulse quickened. Riverrun Conservatory had a formidable reputation, known for their strict discipline and innovative performances. The thought of competing against them stirred a mix of excitement and nerve.

Otto’s gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment on Aemond, then moving on. “I want crispness, I want emotion, and above all, I want precision. We will begin selecting the repertoire tomorrow. Today, I want everyone to focus on their sections. I expect perfection and I will accept nothing less than your best.”

With a decisive turn, Otto left the rehearsal space, his footsteps echoing his determination. The room erupted into whispers and hurried discussions; the stakes had been set.

Blackwood sighed, stress gnawing and weighing on his face. “Fuck me, no pressure then.”

“Don't fucking shit yourself. It's only Riverrun,” a lanky guy mumbled behind his flute.

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

Aemond tuned his cello once more, a determined glint in his eye. He was eager to prove himself, not just as a formidable cellist, but as a key player in leading his school to victory. As the rehearsal began, the sounds of strings, woodwinds, and brass filled the room, each musician pouring their heart into the notes.

Aemond knew that every session, every note, would count. The festival was not just another performance; it was a proving ground. And he was ready to claim his place on it.

With his cello perched on his back as if it were an extension of himself, Aemond strode toward Otto’s office. The familiar weight of the instrument reassured him, steadying his nerves as he prepared to discuss the imminent arrival of their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Upon reaching the heavy oak door, Aemond knocked with a confident rhythm and was quickly greeted by Otto, who peered out from behind a mountain of musical scores. His deep-set eyes and beard, more salt than pepper, gave him an air of aged wisdom.

"Aemond, what's the matter?" Otto asked, noticing the urgency in Aemond's posture.

Stepping inside, Aemond carefully leaned his cello against the wall. "I've heard that Riverrun will be arriving tomorrow to practise here, in preparation for the festival. They’ll be using some of our facilities. I wanted to discuss how we can use this to our advantage, especially since their star pianist is said to be among them."

Otto raised an eyebrow, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he saw the cunning nature reflected in his grandson he perceived in himself.

"Indeed, they will be here. It’s a rare opportunity to observe them up close, to learn their strengths and possibly their weaknesses. We’ve managed to arrange different practice times to ensure there’s no direct overlap, but our paths will certainly cross."

Aemond nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "If we could subtly observe their practice sessions, we might glean insights into their preparation and techniques. It could inform our strategy and help us focus our rehearsals where we need the most work."

Otto walked over to his desk and shuffled some papers, revealing a schedule. "Here are the timings. Riverrun’s sessions are slotted just after ours in the adjacent rooms. It’s crucial we keep our interactions professional, but keep your eyes and ears open. Understand how their pianist integrates with their ensemble— it’s not just about her solo performance."

"Should we consider adjusting our pieces or rehearsal focus based on what we learn?" Aemond asked, his voice low.

"Potentially," Otto responded, tapping his fingers on the desk. "But let’s not be hasty. First, observe. See if there’s a particular piece they struggle with or excel in. We’ll adjust our strategy based on solid evidence, not assumptions."

Aemond felt a surge of tactical excitement. "I’ll make sure our section leaders are discreet but observant. We can use this chance to refine our performance to outshine theirs."

"Exactly," Otto agreed, handing Aemond a copy of the schedule. "Use this opportunity wisely. We need every edge we can get against Riverrun. Remember, they are guests in our school, so maintain the highest standards of respect and professionalism at all times."

With a firm nod, Aemond picked up his cello, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As he left Otto’s office, he knew the next few days could define the outcome of the festival. The challenge was daunting, but Aemond was ready to lead his school not just to compete, but to win.

Aemond was barely through the front door of his apartment before Alys was barraging him with questions. Her fine lips were lacquered with red, fingernails painted a charcoal black as she poured herself a coffee.

“I heard about the competition. Riverrun is notorious. Sure you can handle it?” She smirked behind the rim of her cup.

He sighed, setting down his cello, “yes, I can fucking handle it.” That was his only response before sinking into the sofa, laying his head flat back against the sofa, eyes shut, as if he wanted her to disappear.

He was somewhat ashamed to admit the way he tensed and then relaxed at the way her fingers expertly kneaded his shoulders, massaging the stress from him. But even more so as they trailed down, sharp nails ghosting over his neck had his lips parting and his trousers growing tight.

“Now, now. You know I only want you to do better,” she cooed, “and you will get better, with the right critique.”

He could hear her smile, her tone light and sensual as she trailed off.

Aemond turned his head and looked up at her where she was looming over him, her thumbs still pushing circles on his sore muscles.

“Critique?”

Alys’s lips curved up in a knowing smile, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his weariness. Her green, emerald like eyes, were like daggers, hooking and reeling him in somewhere dark.

"Of course, critique," she murmured, her voice a melodious blend of challenge and tease. "Every artist needs it, even the great Aemond Targaryen. Especially with Riverrun breathing down our necks."

She moved around the sofa with the grace of a cat, setting her coffee down on the table before moving her legs either side of him, brushing her clothed core beneath her skirt against his growing hardness. "I watch, I listen, and I provide feedback that no one else dares to give you."

Aemond sighed, shifting to look at her more directly. The red of her lips was stark against the softer hue of her face, a deliberate pop of colour that matched the sharpness in her words. "And how exactly does your 'feedback' help me tonight?" he asked, his tone a mix of scepticism and intrigue.

"It helps because it makes you think. It makes you feel. Isn't that what music is about?" Alys replied, her hands now moving down from his shoulders, her fingers tracing lines across his chest through his shirt. "Besides, seeing you tense up like that, only to melt under my touch—it tells me where you're holding back. Not just here," she said, pressing briefly into a particularly tight spot. Then, her touch sank to his belt, then drifting lower and stroking his growing erection, teasing his length slowly. 

"But here too."

Her approach was intoxicating, a dangerous mix of personal care and professional critique. "You're brilliant, Aemond, but even brilliance can be polished," she continued, leaning in to whisper against his ear. "Let me polish you, make you shine brighter. Let me push you to be the best, and then push a little harder."

Aemond felt the dual edges of her influence—the softness of her caress, the hard truth in her critique. It was a manipulation he allowed, perhaps even welcomed. Her presence was woven into his life, a thread that was both comforting and controlling. Sometimes too tight. 

With two needy hands on her buttocks, he rolled up her skirt around her hips, dipping between her welcoming thighs, his ego somewhat inflated to find she was wet already. Alys did little else in reaction than assisting to undo his belt, taking his hard length in her hand and seductively massaging from base to tip.

He pulled her forcefully against him, fingers dug into her pale skin as she hovered over him and sank slowly, splitting herself open on his cock with a practised moan. Her hips moved instinctually, stretching to accommodate his thickness over and over. 

Between grunts and curses, Aemond was rarely vocal. Sex was a way to dispel frustration and invite inspiration in his clear head afterwards. Alys could be anyone. But he had to admit, he found her interesting, if not for her advice.

Her manicured and rounded nails dug into his neck as Alys moved on him with vigour, one hand stealing between them to circle her bud to try and hurtle herself towards completion.

It had occurred to Aemond that she was similarly using him in the same way.

With a bruising grip around her waist, Aemond jutted up into her shakily, coming hard within Alys’ quivering walls in the aftermath of her orgasm. And once she gained her breath, she peeled his hands off her as if he were suffocating. His member slid out of her, softened and slick with her moisture.

Alys straightened, stepping back to observe him, her eyes assessing as she wiggled her skirt back down. "Tomorrow, I'll come to the rehearsal. I want to see how you handle yourself with Riverrun watching. I'll be watching too, taking notes." Her tone was playful yet serious, a reminder of her dual role in his life.

As she retreated to the kitchen, Aemond lay there, a part of him resenting the ease with which she shifted roles from lover to critic, yet another part eager to prove himself worthy of her praise, his heart going fast still in the aftermath of their hastened sex.

 He knew that Alys's critiques, though wrapped in seduction, were aimed at forging him into a sharper, more formidable musician. In the complex symphony of their relationship, her motives played out in chords, each note crafted to challenge and change him.

The next day dawned crisp and clear, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the grounds of the music school. The building was abuzz with the nervous energy of anticipation, the air vibrating with the undertones of an impending musical clash.

As he made his way through the corridors to the rehearsal room, he could hear the murmur of voices, the tuning of instruments, and the occasional burst of laughter or a sharp command. Today, the halls of his own school would play host not just to its students but also to their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Aemond entered the rehearsal room to find it already half-filled with his peers, each one keenly aware of the significance of the day. The room was set up with chairs and stands arranged in a precise semi-circle, awaiting the arrival of the Riverrun musicians.

Before long, the members of Riverrun Conservatory began to filter in, their expressions a mix of confident smiles and cautious glances. The room's atmosphere thickened with the tangible sense of competition, each group eyeing the other, assessing and reassessing.

Amid this tense backdrop, Alys slipped into the room, a notepad clutched in her hand and a pen poised for action. Her presence was a sharp reminder to Aemond of the dual aspects of their relationship. She caught his eye and offered a slight nod, an unspoken signal that she was here in her professional capacity.

The rehearsal began with Otto taking the lead, his voice firm as he called for attention. "Let's begin with a warm-up. Remember, while we share our space today, let's show our guests the level of excellence we strive for."

Aemond took his place, settling his cello between his knees. His fingers danced over the strings, tuning with meticulous care, his gaze occasionally drifting to the Riverrun musicians who were setting up nearby. Among them, he noticed a young woman, stood between two other boys who looked over her at one another with smug smiles. They were most certainly either violinists or cellists. But the woman between them, he saw, had such delicate fingers, this had to be the pianist he had heard so much about.

All watched them perform with a sort of challenging, stoic expression, as if judging every movement, every chord and sound made. Every choice scrutinised. In the corner of his eye, between glances at the music, Aemond noticed Alys scribbling down notes.

And when their performance came to an end, Riverrun Conservatory clapped, alongside their conductor, Lyonel Strong. He was burly, red-cheeked, strict but well-meaning, as far as Aemond had heard. But the way he and Otto Hightower looked at one another was akin to some secret rivalry nobody else was privy to.

Alys slid up to Aemond’s side as he began to tidy his instrument away, her presence immediately electric. “See that man?” she whispered, nodding subtly towards Lyonel. “He conducts with his heart on his sleeve, not a metronome like Otto. That’s why they play with such passion. It’s infectious, captivating.”

Aemond nodded, absorbing her analysis. He knew of her critical acumen, but there was a personal edge to her voice now. “You sound almost admiring,” he observed, watching her closely.

Alys’s expression darkened slightly, her emerald eyes flitting back to Lyonel. “I might admire his style, but not the man. Not after everything.” She sighed, a sound more resigned than angry. “He might be the maestro of emotions, Aemond, but off that podium, he’s a different story.”

Aemond did not inquire further. If he was being truthful with himself, he didn't much care for Alys' personal grievances.

“Keep a close eye on their cellist,” Alys warned from the sidelines, watching Riverrun tune and start up their instruments for their own warm up.

As Riverrun began their performance, Aemond’s attention initially settled on the cellist, analysing his fluid technique and the rich emotion flowing from his strings. However, his focus soon drifted to the pianist, who was poised before her instrument like a painter in front of a blank canvas. Her movements were almost ethereal, feather-like, as her fingers danced across the keys, each note floating into the air with a delicate precision that seemed to transcend the mechanics of the piano itself.

The pianist's performance captivated Aemond, her connection with the music evident in the subtle sway of her body and the gentle closing of her eyes as she played. It was more than mere execution, it was an embodiment of the piece, a true manifestation of feeling and artistry.

Alys, standing beside Aemond, watched the pianist with a discerning eye. After a moment, she leaned closer to Aemond and whispered, "See how she plays? It’s like she’s not just striking notes, but weaving a spell. Each touch is thoughtful, precise yet so naturally expressive."

Aemond nodded, fully absorbed in the performance. He could see what Alys meant—the pianist wasn’t just playing, she was performing in a way that made the piano speak directly to the audience. It was an inspiring display of how technique served as the foundation for emotional expression.

"Her approach is impressive," Alys continued, her voice a mix of professional respect and genuine admiration. "That’s what we need to aim for, Aemond. It’s not just about the notes, but how you make them feel alive, how you connect them to the listener’s soul."

Watching the pianist, Aemond felt a surge of inspiration mixed with a competitive drive. He realised that this was the standard he needed to meet and exceed. The way the pianist’s performance resonated in the room, how it seemed to stir the hearts of all who listened, including his own—it set a clear benchmark.

As the piece drew to a close, and the final note lingered in the air, a hushed silence fell over the room before applause erupted. The pianist looked up, her expression serene, almost surprised by the intensity of the audience’s reaction.

Aemond clapped, his applause thoughtful, infused with a newfound respect and a burning motivation. He turned to Alys, a determined look in his eyes. "I see it now," he said. "But she's nothing special. Our pianist is just as good."

“Just as good isn't enough. We have to be better. We need to surpass them—to be so outstanding that Riverrun feels like just a prelude to our performance. They shouldn’t just be impressed by us; they should be overwhelmed."

Aemond’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he processed her words. He watched the pianist from Riverrun mingle with the crowd, her presence still resonating with the lingering notes of her performance.

The shy, timid prodigy. A story written a million times. He felt as if he saw right through her, and no way was that washing with him.

“Meet me in the supply room before lunch,” Alys whispered, turning on her heel before Aemond could reply. The swing of her hips as she moved towards the Riverrun musicians and indication of what she wanted from him. All she ever wanted from him.

Aemond merely watched on from the sidelines, arms crossed. Alys mingled with them all, shaking their hands and wishing them luck in the weeks of practice and competitiveness to come. And when she finally shook the hand of the pianist, his gaze flickered between his lover and the delicate frame of this stranger he had yet to know.

Everything about her was different to Alys. She wore sheer black tights, and sensible shoes. Her skirt was flowy and ended mid tight, covered only at the top by her high-necked top, also black. And it was here he recognised a similarity in her and Aemond's dress sense.

Alys on the other hand exuded sexuality. Tight fitting skirts and dresses, no tights and heels at least four inches high. And while Alys wore a sleek straight style, the pianist was loose and free, if not slightly frizzy.

He watched the two women talking animatedly. Alys no doubt congratulating her on how well she plays.

He'd never been in more need of a cigarette then right at this moment.

“I apologise for him, he’s usually more expressive on stage than off,” Alys joked lightly as they approached, teasing Aemond in her usual manner.

The pianist extended her hand to Aemond with a firm, confident grip that surprised him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen your performances online,” she stated, her tone straightforward, skipping the usual pleasantries. Her directness was refreshing yet unexpected.

Aemond took her hand, a bit taken aback by her assertiveness. “Thank you,” he responded, realising only after the words left his mouth that she hadn’t actually complimented his work, just acknowledged it. “Your performance today was quite remarkable.”

“Thank you,” she replied, nodding politely, her smile brief. There was no reciprocal flattery, no effusive praise—just a clear, concise acknowledgment.

Her straightforwardness intrigued Aemond. It was rare for him to encounter someone who didn’t engage in the typical exchange of mutual admiration among peers, especially when one had just praised the other. Her confidence and lack of concern for social niceties made him rethink the usual dance of compliments that often felt more obligatory than genuine.

Their exchange maintained a professional veneer, but Aemond felt a distinct chill in the air as the pianist held his gaze with an unyielding intensity.

“I'm interested. How do you prepare for a performance of this calibre?” She asked in a probing manner, clasping her hands behind her back. And when she swept her hair out her face, a dash of her perfume hit him, light and floral, he noted.

“I focus deeply on the composition's technical demands," he responded crisply, his voice carrying a cool, almost detached quality. "Emotional expression is secondary to flawless execution.”

She bit back a smile he noticed before she could hide it, “that is quite a disciplined approach.”

"It’s the only way to ensure a performance is beyond reproach," he stated flatly, eyes scanning the room. "Judges appreciate perfection.”

“And the audience?”

He shrugged, “whether they do or not, it doesn't change my approach.”

She nodded, leaving a long pause, as if laying a trap, “interesting,” she mused, "I always believed that connecting with the audience was the true measure of a performance’s success."

“Emotions are too subjective.”

Alys, sensing the growing tension, interjected with a light laugh. "Aemond here is all about the technicalities when it comes to music. He believes in precision over passion."

The pianist tilted her head slightly, considering his response with an analytical gaze before a playful glimmer appeared in her eyes. “Are all aspects of your life subject to such rules?” her tone light, but probing. “Musicians are usually branded as romantics, after all.”

Aemond's brow twitched, a subtle annoyance. “There is a time and a place. In a competition, it's about control. Discipline.”

She hummed, slightly amused, “how practical. Does it not get lonely, striving so often for perfection?”

He shrugs, “it doesn't matter. Wins are measurable, feelings not so.”

“Musicians are not remembered for their wins. They're remembered for the feelings they tease out of people.”

Aemond’s gaze held steady, impressed by her ability to intertwine light-hearted banter with serious debate. “Maybe so, but I’d rather be remembered for setting records than stirring hearts.”

There was a long pause, her eyes never leaving him as if trying to piece together a delicate and intricate puzzle. And she had to bite her lip to contain her smile, simmering frustration in his chest.

“Interesting,” she mused, releasing her lip from between her teeth.

She finally broke their intense gaze, stepping back slightly as she prepared to leave. "Thank you for the conversation, Aemond. It was... enlightening," she said, her tone serious and reflective. "I'll be interested to see how your focus on the technicalities plays out in the competition. Good luck."

With a formal nod, she turned and walked away, her demeanour composed and professional. Aemond watched her rejoin her group, the interaction leaving him with a lingering sense of disquiet. Her straightforward, no-nonsense approach had challenged his views subtly yet profoundly, pushing him to reconsider the balance between technique and emotion in his performances.

Something he'd considered very little.

And as he fucked out his frustrations with Alys in the supply room, pushing her front against the wall and plunging into the tight warmth and solitude she offered, the encounter had ignited a new sense of challenge within him, or perhaps it was a hint of doubt, unsettling the confidence he had always felt in his methodical approach to music.

The usual clarity with which he viewed his musical career was now clouded with questions, thanks to a simple yet impactful exchange. It was a confrontation of ideals that made him both wary and intrigued.

It was clear now that the competition had escalated to more than just notes and rhythms—it was a clash of philosophies, a duel of passion in dual meaning.

And he was prepared to meet it head on.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

[animeyanderelover]

Can i request headcanons for feitan, madara, Indra, jojo( Joseph and caesar) for fem reader being a time and world traveler? Like she can come and go as she pleases or when she gets bored and wants to see something else. She enjoys taking her time and exploring each world she visits

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, stalking, clinginess, paranoia, threats, manipulation, blackmailing, violence, female s/o

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama @simplydlightfuldestiny @flaming-vulpix

S/o is a time and world traveler

Indra Otsutsuki

💜​There is something different about you. Years of training and honing his abilities to utmost perfection have given Indra a very keen intuition on people's skills through simple observation. Someone as skilled and strong as he is does not have time like his younger brother to waste his time with everyone, instead he is much more selective with his preferences clearly lying in stronger people. That is why he finds himself seeking you out as he as a feeling that you will prove yourself as worthy of his attention and time. His intuition is after all rarely wrong. As you are a traveler who has found her way to their village, Indra instantly takes it upon himself to separate you from people he does not deem to be worth of the attention and time he plans to invest in you. He shall be your guide and adviser during the time you spend in the village. Despite being known for his unforgiving nature and harsh attitude, you find out that he is quite attentive and mellow when he is left alone with you, answering all your questions.

💜​Accompanying you as you get to know the world around you becomes one of his favorite activities as he relishes in the privacy he can have with only you. As seasons come and go, he finds himself growing quite possessive of your time he sees as far too precious to clown around with those he does not see as fitting. You are far too knowledgable and skilled to waste your day with people who will never become strong enough for him to acknowledge. By now he only seems to tolerate his little brother and his father around you as he scares others away from your side. Yet not only does he scare those he deems as weak away, he also insists for you to let him train you as he would hate for you to not grow fully into the potential he knows you possess. He discovers very soon though that he has barely anything to teach you as the opposite would be much truer. As uncomfortable as he feels when figuring out that you seem to be stronger than him, he shows willingness to learn so that he will eventually surpass you in order to hold the illusion of being in control.

💜​It is his father's decision to name Asura as the next successor that ultimately pushes Indra over the edge and it is the defeat he suffers at the hand of the brother he always thought to be weaker that fuels his obsession. Not being the one who is stronger equals now not being in control which is why he grows quite paranoid with you as he knows that he has never bested you in skills. It is his very real threat of abducting you to keep you for himself that finally leads you to reveal the truth to him about the full potential of your powers. Your powers let you be closer to a god than an actual human and this knowledge humbles and humiliates him. A feeling of insignificance threatens to weight him down as he comes to realise that in your eyes he must be something to be forgotten as time passes by. A knot of emotions, unable to be untangled, is born in his heart and makes it hard to navigate. Between the anger, the sorrow and the paranoia there is one thing Indra is certain of though. That he will have you bending down to his will, no matter what.

Madara Uchiha

🌑​You appear before him in a time of rare desperation as his heart feels heavy as the last member of his family is battling with death after having been mortally wounded by Tobirama Senju during one of their many battles. Everyone from the doctors has proclaimed that there is no saving Izuna yet here you stand, unfaced as you are surrounded by hostile Uchiha warriors and proclaim that you can save his younger brother from the tight grip of death. No one believes you, not even Madara yet you know of his deepest wish to not lose Izuna and ultimately Madara allows you to tend to Izuna. If you cannot fulfill what you have promised, he will see it through to make you regret every single word you have dared to use to lie to his clan. You defy all expectations though as you save his younger brother from unescapable death using a jutsu that no one of the medics in the Uchiha clan have ever seen before. As Izuna is on a safe way of recovery, many beg of you to stay a while longer and to learn the abilities that you possess.

🌑​The Uchiha value power and skill and you possess plenty of it. Madara, quite intrigued by you, only joins the offer of his clan as he asks of you to accept the hospitality of his clan so that he can properly express the gratitude he feels. To the delight of everyone you accept the offer though as you have been planning to settle down for a while to take a break from your travels. As the war continues raging on outside, you are treated kindly within the Uchiha compound as many of the strong clan ask of you to learn from you. You have no interest in the war yet your strength is undeniable as you have taken some offers to spar with some of the warriors out of your personal boredom. Some even suggest to make you an ally to fight against the Senju yet as you voice your clear displeasure against that idea, Madara sees it through to silence all who dare to think like this. It is no secret that he is utterly smitten with you at this point and does whatever he can to ensure that you stay with his clan.

🌑​In his mind he has already named you as the wife he wishes to take as your knowledge, sharpness and skill are most desirable traits. Someone special as you only deserves an equally impressive man. A man like him. Rumors have already spread, the eldest of his clan have already given him their blessing for his decision yet it is then that you decide that it is time to leave. You manage to sneak away from everyone yet he catches you in your attempt. Initially he persuade you to change your mind yet when he realises that you have made up your mind, he switches his plans and instead tries to use force on you. It is that night that he is bested by someone for the first time as not even Hashirama has ever beaten him so effortlessly. He is as impressed as he is humiliated, something he has never felt before. It is only then that you decide to confess to him your true origins and powers. Perhaps for others it would be soothing to know that they lost against someone who transcends through time and even space yet he has never been someone to resign himself to his fate. Red eyes glare at you as you go your separate ways as he swears that he will become even a god to claim you as his.

Feitan Portor

☠️Commonly it is believed that first impressions matter yet if that were to be true, Feitan couldn't care less. You truly appear in the wrong place at the wrong time as the city you currently reside in becomes an unfortunate victim of a heist of the Phantom Troupe. Completely left in the blind with what is going on, you do what you deem to be the right thing to do as you try to save at least some people which leads you to violently clash with no one else but Feitan himself. Initially your brave facade is scoffed at yet you manage to impress him to the point where he even finds himself enjoying a fight he initially is confidet he will win. You are just strong and stubborn enough for him to enjoy the idea of toying a bit with you and eventually break you. Just as it appears like he has won though, you finally seem to be mad enough to use your true abilities. Feitan doesn't fully understand what happens, only that you easily overpower him and shame him as he realises that you held back the entire time.

☠️​Humiliated and ashamed of his defeat he feels guilty for letting the troupe down by not doing his part yet Chrollo does not think badly of him as he knows of Feitan's skills. Instead it begs the question of what your abilities exactly are for you to defeat Feitan as effortlessly as you did. It would be safe to investigate you and Feitan is quite adamant to participate as he is silently brooding due to the defeat he had to suffer because of you. Very soon he finds himself confronted with the problem that he can't find any data about you as not even Shalnark can dig up information involving you. You may as well be a ghost and all of it only feeds Feitan's growing frustration as he finds himself reduced to the pitiful position of stalking you personally, just itching for a chance to fight with you again and get you back for his shameful loss. What was initially obsession for revenge soon turns into something else though yet when he fully realises the seriousness of it all, it is already too late for him to turn back.

☠️​The amount of time he dedicates to stalk you increases as he starts growing quite impatient and perhaps even a tiny bit desperate. Weeks of stalking yet he knows nothing about you nor about your Nen abilities. Why do you have to make it so difficult for him? When he finds out that you plan to leave the city and continue your journey, he is triggered. You react quite unfazed though even as the sharp tip of his sword is pressed against the back of your neck as his quiet and hoarse voice forbids you to leave this city. He still hasn't gotten his chance to beat you after all. To his dismay you reveal to him that you have known of his stalking the entire time, only adding more insult to his humiliation. You manage to defuse the situation though when you offer him the chance to ask you a few questions which you will answer to the best of your abilities. Whilst at first iffy, he takes that offer and asks you the question that has been bothering him the most. What exactly are your abilities? The answer you give him is too ridiculous to believe yet he senses no lie in your words. He falls silent yet you can see how he is brainstorming for a solution in that moment. He knows that you plan to leave. He can't have you do that.

Joseph Joestar

🦾​Your cover is instantly blown when you travel to a new world. Joseph, with his stupid luck, just had to see you suddenly appear through the portal you opened what should have been a reclusive area. Instead you meet eye to eye with none other than the young Joseph who is gawking at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face. You can't blame him for that. In the next moment he dramatically points his index finger at you, asking you aghast if you are some sort of witch. You fear for a short moment that you'll have to do something but to your luck the Joestar has no intention of stopping you as he tends to avoid problems normally. Instead you manage to figure things out with him as you have no choice but to confess to him the truth, especially since he seems to be quite witty and sharp, recognising it if you try to lie to him. After he has been convinced that you are merely a tourist from another world and plan to cause no chaos, you two instantly hit off.

🦾​Can you blame him though? It is not everyday that he stumbles upon someone who can travel through time and space. Instead he finds himself enjoying showing you around and being able to boost his own ego by amazing you with the stuff that is ordinary to him but new for you. He can't stop himself from flirting with you, although you find out that he does this quite commonly with the people around him so you learn to brush it off. He does like to remind you that you have the most unique and otherwordly charm of all people though. Quite literally. He enjoys your presence greatly though because you keep up with his antics, even if it has gotten the both of you in troubles quite some time before. It is only natural in hindsight that he caught feelings and whilst he may appear quite silly at times, Joseph is quite clever. Though he does like to think at the beginning that his feelings are nothing serious, he has no way to deny it anymore at a certain point.

🦾​He proceeds to act the same way he has always done to not rouse your suspicion but on the inside he is brainstorming already. He is no fool after all. You have told him yourself that you travel around when you get bored of a world. Very subtly he attempts to pry for more information about how exactly your powers, expressing genuine curiosity as he asks you if you can bring other people along. Honestly, he doesn't mind your abilities that much if it wouldn't be for the very real chance that you will simply never return to him again. If he would just know that you would reciprocate his feelings, he would even be up to tag along and see some new worlds for himself. He doesn't know if you feel the same though and even if he continues to flirt and has gotten as of lately more clingy and even a tad bit more jealous, he hesitates to tell you. He knows after all. He knows that his feelings are rather creepy and unhealthy. Let's just hope that he can delay your leave for as long as possible by keeping you entertained until he has found a solution...

Caesar A. Zeppeli

🫧​Caesar is no stranger to the concept of courting young ladies and stealing their heart in the process. He seems to be instantly attracted to you when he sees you as you have something special about you that he can't yet put his finger around. Adamant to discover what makes you so special to instantly capture his heart though, he does not shy away from approaching you with a gentlemanly playfulness that has always worked on women before. Whilst you appear to be amused as you can clearly see his intentions, you decide to see how it'll go out of curiosity nevertheless. You can indeed see the appeal in the young and hot-blooded man after a while as he truly doesn't hold back when it comes to his partner. Expensive jewelry and gifts are all given to you, dates in fine restaurants become a daily occurrence and sweet and romantic words that belong in a romance novel are whispered into your ears. Truly, he does not shy away from making a lady feel like the world belongs to her.

🫧​You can enjoy it only because you have heard and seen that he treats all ladies that way which is why you think of this as nothing too serious. That is until you notice the shift in his behavior. His eyes stray less to other ladies and solely focus on you with a warm and adoring glimmer in those green eyes, he invades your physical privacy by always taking an extra step to be closer to you out of growing protectiveness and you have realised his growing disdain as whenever he spots you with another man as he is turning without a doubt more and more possessive of you. You don't intend to have him fall truly in love with you because you know that you would leave him with a broken heart so you try to distance yourself from him in hopes that he will stop. Yet the moment you dare to pull back, his paranoia seems to increase. His mind is racing, wondering what it could be that has caused such a rift between you two and much to your sadness you find him multiple times in front of your door, begging you to tell him what is shackling your heart.

🫧​Caesar is fully aware of his reputation as a womanizer and he truly regrets it now that he has found the one lady he wants to marry and spend his life with. He is far too delusional to fully acknowledge the unfitting desperation he starts to display the further he feels you drifting away from him. As you notice that no rationality will work on him anymore, you decide to leave the city. The world you are in is still big after all and you have much left to discover. Yet you are aware that Caesar has abilities which aren't common for other people of this world to possess so you address an honest letter to him, trusting him enough to keep your secret safe. The heartbreak attacks him like a vicious dog when he breaks into your empty apartment after you did not answer the door and he finds your letter where you explain the situation to him. Still, he refuses to believe your words that deny that you two could never have a future together, something he has already envisioned multiple times. You poor thing must have never felt true love before to think that. As heartbroken as he is, Caesar is just as determined to find you and convince you of his feelings and the dangers that come with traveling all alone.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV Musings - Can vampires LEARN new Dark Gifts?

YES.

And NO.

Three things affect a vamp's Gifts: Time, Blood, & Akasha. ALL vampires have the ability to unlock ALL of the Dark Gifts as they age & drink & get stronger & practice. No one vampire is born with the ability to do things no other vampire can do, that's not how it works. Vampires are superhuman, and preternaturally strong & powerful, even at base level as bb!fledglings. For instance: mere minutes after she was Turned, Lestat's mother Gabrielle was able to shatter glass just with her voice (just as we see AMC!Claudia do); it's basic.

However, some vamps CAN be born naturally more adept at using the Gifts from the offset. Gabrielle's vampiric senses & instincts seemed to be naturally sharper than Lestat's:

And she needed ZERO direction figuring out how to scale walls (anti-gravity)--nothing but sheer youth/age kept her from the Cloud Gift.

A BAMF, AMC!Claudia seems to be teaching herself how to use the Cloud Gift--or at least anti-gravity (OG!Superman could only leap tall buildings in a single bound b4 DC said eff it and let him fly).

Ofc she has the potential for the Cloud Gift already, cuz AMC!Lestat already had it. book!Les didn't learn the Cloud Gift until QotD, after he drank copiously from Akasha. But book!Claudia never stood a chance--book!Les didn't have it yet to pass it down to her.

Another good example's Armand, who is THE best vamp with the Spell & Mind Gifts--a naturally talented savant; a child prodigy.

That's not to say that there aren't other skilled & powerful vamps who're really good at the Mind/Spell Gifts. It's just that from very early on, Armand was uncommonly good at it, and he just honed that talent over time, quicker than other vamps do.

But the Mind Gift is also THE default ability of vampires. Even basic AF young bb!fledglings can use it; and with practice, they can all get good at it--but most don't live long enough to get that good.

But several things CAN hold a vampire back from getting stronger/better with the Dark Gifts--I've explained wtf Rhosh was up to b4.

As bad as Magnus was, he had NOTHING on Rhoshamandes (who deliberately didn't WANT his fledglings to know anything about their Gifts). Magnus was suicidal, and in a hurry to to die, so he told Lestat the barest of bones, but nothing more, then offed himself.

Cuz yes, even BEFORE book!Lestat met Armand & Marius/Akasha, he was ALREADY abnormally gifted (10x stronger than a fledgling his age)--cuz Magnus was old & strong AF thanks to having the blood of old AF Rhoshamandes (via Benedict).

But book!Louis was weak AF, and the WORST with the Mind Gift. AMC!Louis' below average with it, as Armand warned him in 2x2 that he's garbage at blocking his thoughts. But book!Louis couldn't use the Mind Gift AT ALL, he's shockingly bad.

But it's not that book!film!Louis could NEVER be taught how to use the Mind Gift--but Lestat certainly didn't know HOW to teach Louis, or connect with him on a level that could ease Louis into vampirism more considerately. He was a pisspoor teacher for Louis (but not for Claudia, who was more similar to Les & thrived under him--at first).

However, the fact that Lou was habitually starving himself meant he'd stunted his own growth--he CAN'T get stronger/better, cuz his body's too frail by design. Vamps need time, practice, and esp. HUMAN BLOOD, to feed the power within them. book!Lou never did; despite how old he got, it was only once he drank Lestat's super!Akasha!blood in Merrick that he finally unlocked all of the Gifts instantly, in one fell swoop, inc. the Fire Gift. Despite how weak & starved he was, the second Lou got access to Akasha's super!blood thru Les, he was off like a shot. (And I'd bet Monopoly money that if book!Claudia had drunk from Akasha, she'd have every Gift, too.) Speaking of--

Conversely, let's look at Akasha. According to Marius, it took her FOREVER to get the Fire Gift--several millennia. As strong as she was in Egypt, she was still young, and still developing, too. Khayman's Akasha =/=Marius' Akasha =/= Lestat's Akasha. She naturally got stronger & stronger with time.

Back in Egypt, Akasha had to use the Mind Gift (telekinesis) to lift oil lamps that were already lit, and throw them at people.

~500yrs later, Marius saw her kill Eudoxia just by lighting the wench on fire from thin air; with the Fire Gift (pyrokinesis). So it took Akasha thousands of years to acquire the Fire Gift.

But Akasha already had it in her--"lain dormant for centuries." Same as it lay dormant in Marius--he didn't even know he had the Fire Gift, or that it was even a thing--the first time he used it was an accident/surprise, when he was already ~500yrs old & fought Eudoxia's goons.

One could argue that mere time had given Marius the Fire Gift--and his Maker Teskhamen was old AF, strong enough to have survived the Great Burnings, so that was another bonus. BUT! Marius had drunk lots of Akasha's blood MORE RECENTLY than ANY of the Elders did. Her blood was aging while he alone had her, so as Marius drank, he gained access to older/better blood than the Elders before him. He was at the best advantage to get stronger quicker. Marius was better at every Dark Gift than the vampires FAR older than he was (Avicus was just as old as Teskhamen).

With the Killing Gift, Marius could make bodies literally explode. But Avicus, the eldest, could only give them a fatal aneurysm to make their brain bleed out. Mael could only cripple bodies, not kill them.

But the Fire Gift was something ONLY Marius could do, that the other vamps couldn't, younger or older.

Drinking Akasha's blood is vamp steroids, crack, Aim Bot, hax mode, deus ex machina, cutting the line, copying off the smart kid in class. But drinking from old AF vamps can also grant significant boosts. The Children of the Millennia begged book!Lou to take their ancient blood, to help him get strong pre-Merrick; but he always declined. We know from the Tulane drafts that he never drank book!Les' blood, or vice versa. And presumably, he never drank Armand's blood either. (I have reservations/doubts abt whether AMC!Loumand drank e/o's blood, but I'll talk about that in a separate post.) As for Lesmand....

We'll have to wait for S3 to confirm if 2x3 was bullsh!te or not. AMC!Lestat drank Armand blood (and presumably gained the power boost needed to get the Fire/Mind Gifts Armand then taught him to use), but this never happened in the books. book!Les already had the Mind Gift--he was able to read Eleni's mind and know she wanted Renaud's Theatre, which he told her take & run with Nicki. And in QotD Les said he used the Mind Gift "in the first few weeks after Magnus had made me" to telekinetically punch Nicki during one of their fights.

book!Armand drank LES' blood when they fought and Les kicked his arse, but he never drank from Armand in TVL, or asked him about the Mind/Fire Gift. It was Armand's strength that surprised Les--

--mostly cuz Les wondered if he was just as strong as Armand. Les had no idea what his powers were. Cuz barring extreme cases like using the Fire Gift while your life's in danger, vamps don't KNOW the Gifts that are out there, to even know to learn/practice with them--just like Everard said: Rhosh never told the de Landen Coven about the Dark Gifts, and he was 1000+ years old when he learned about them by reading TVL. Knowledge is power, and if you don't even know what your baseline is, how can you ever know your limits/potential?

The most valuable thing book!Armand taught Lestat (and Louis) was information. KNOWLEDGE about the past. NOT about Dark Gifts.

Louis took Armand's word that there was no living vamp older than Armand (proof that God didn't exist), but Lestat took Armand's word that Marius was NOT a fake legend, and went looking for proof on his own.

But AMC!Armand teaches Lestat & Louis VERY important Dark Gifts, which changes their dynamics significantly (I'll make a separate post all about that).

So yeah, I just wanted to think out loud & mull over whether dogs really can learn new tricks or not.

[celaenaeiln]

what dances do you think each batkid would learn/do if they wanted to/could?

like obviously cass has ballet but i dunno i could see dick being into salsa or steph being into hiphop

oh!!!

Dick: I agree! With Dick's natural charisma, agility, and love for excitement, he's made for dances like the Rumba, Salsa, Cha Cha, and Samba. Those fast-paced dances practically embody the rush he thrives on. It's the quick, flashy movements combined with the playful flirtation and it matches his confident, outgoing personality.

It's soo easy to just imagine him effortlessly spinning his partner around with his signature grin lighting up the floor, and perfectly in sync with the fast-paced rhythm. It's the thrill, the connection, and the sheer rush of it all would be irresistible to him. For Dick, it’s about the freedom, the energy, and the glitz and glam.

Jason: Breakdancing. It would pay a homeage to his roots and he would love it because it's about power, strength, and has an element of danger. It has sharp, forceful movements that give the dancer a sense of empowerment. It mirrors his intensity.

Tim: Waltz and Foxtrot. Tim would really like those slow ballroom dances because for him it's about precision and discipline. Tim is the the partner because he always focuses on balance between his and Bruce's Batman and Robin partnership which would translate into him knowing just when to move and with elegance. He's similar to Dick but he has a quieter confidence.

Stephanie: Hiphop. Another homage to her roots but also hip hop is a diverse dance and Stephanie is a bit eclectic. She's fun and serious. She lifts people up but worries a lot. A dance that would suit her best is something that would incorporate many different styles. So she would learn a whole genre of dance that one particular kind. Steph would love the fast, dangerous element of hip hop and in many ways she's similar to Jason.

Damian: Contemporary (My favorite!). It's a style of dance where the dancer infuses meaning into the dance while they move. Damian's character is all about carving out his own place in the world and growing into his own person. Unlike the other, Damian isn't satisfied to be a preset which is why he broke free as Robin as such a young age. He thinks about things very deeply and his family and traditions mean a lot of him. Therefore, Damian would be interested in a form of dance that allows him to create his own self-expression. And this is Contemporary.

Cass: Ballet and Traditional Chinese Dancing. Cass liking ballet is canon. But I also strongly belief she would be interested in Traditional Chinese Dancing. She would love it because it's a way of connecting to her heritage but also, Traditional Chinese Dancing demands intense physical control and focus in the form of utter elegance. Cass, who's superpower is basically to read body movements of others and hone her own skills, would love this form of dance that allows her to gain meaning from slight changes in the body. This form of dance is created for story-telling through the body.

Duke: Jazz. Duke would love Jazz which is known for it's versatility and upbeatness. He's an optimist and a self-engineer. Meaning, Duke literally created his identity from scratch. He knew who he was and went forth on a path that would enable him to continue being that. He's good-natured and humorous. He's innovative and bold. Because of these personality, he would love Jazz which is composed of bold movements such as leaps and kicks but also love the freedom to improvise. It's all about the individuality with him.

[anna-the-undertaker]

The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

I have more ideas for Badass MC and have taken a lot of inspiration from Supernatural. This is slightly different, though, and focused specifically on a female MC. I might give this OC a name. If you have ideas for one let me know:

Armor Art

After Lilith was reborn into human form, as she matured, fragments of her celestial past began to resurface despite Diavolo's attempt to erase her memory. Memories of her time as an angel gradually returned, though the specifics of her rebirth remained elusive.

Over time, through relentless practice, she managed to rekindle some of her angelic powers, particularly her skill in summoning celestial weapons at will. Silently honing her abilities, she painstakingly learned to wield these gifts without endangering herself or others in her newfound human existence. With each passing day, her muscle memory gradually reawakened until she attained a semblance of mastery, adapting to the limitations of her mortal form.

As she reached adulthood, Lilith assumed the mantle of humanity's protector, driven by an enduring love for the beings she cherished. Vigilant against both angelic and demonic threats, she passed down her skills to her daughters, then their daughters, and their daughters, creating a lineage of guardians spanning generations.

However, as time marched on, the noble cause she championed began to fray at the edges, tainted by the relentless march of human ambition and pride. Dogma hardened into unyielding doctrine, and corruption seeped into the fabric of her legacy. And the power passed down waned, sealed away through the mixing of bloodlines.

Centuries after Lilith's passing, MC emerged into a world practically devoid of celestial or demonic presence. One of the lucky few over generations to have been born with the power to use weapon summoning. Armed with the techniques of her forebears, she displayed remarkable prowess and dedication from a tender age, assuming the mantle of hunter at a mere sixteen. Dispatching angels and demons alike, she began to question the righteousness of her cause. Why were these beings targeted? Had they truly committed wrongdoing, or were they merely puppets of human whims?

Years later, one fateful encounter with a young demon challenged MC's convictions. Confronted by the genuine fear and innocence in the demon's eyes, she hesitated, recognizing the injustice of her actions. Letting mercy guide her, she allowed the demon to escape, defying the expectations of her kin. But this act of compassion came at a cost — her status was revoked, and she was shunned from her family's legacy, her very existence erased from their annals.

In the present day, MC finds herself summoned to the Devildom, expecting retribution for her past deeds. To her surprise, the demons are oblivious to her lineage and history, and she resolves to keep it that way, having left her former life behind.

Despite her best efforts to suppress her instincts, a confrontation during the TSL quiz exposes her true nature. In a split-second decision, she defends herself against an enraged Levi, revealing herself to the stunned onlookers with a display of angelic weaponry. Though she spares him harm, the revelation leaves all present dumbfounded, questioning the depths of her secrets.

The dreaded day had arrived, and MC found herself standing in the council room facing Leviathan, whose smug expression grated on her nerves. She silently hoped to navigate through this ordeal swiftly, reluctant to escalate tensions with her new found companions. However, deep down, she knew that a confrontation was inevitable.

"Alright, everyone! Finally, the wait is over! It's time for Devil's Trivia Showdown, the quiz show that pits demon against human!" Asmo's melodious voice rang out.

MC couldn't help but smirk inwardly at the irony of his statement.

As Asmo continued his introduction, MC observed Leviathan's prideful demeanor, sensing his unwavering confidence in victory. She felt a twinge of guilt for what she was about to do, but she couldn't let his overconfidence go unchallenged.

"I am the G.O.A.T. None can oppose me!" Leviathan boasted.

"And his challenger claims to have been introduced to TSL only very recently after binge watching the DVDs! Say hello to MC!" Asmo declared.

With a polite wave and a small smile, MC acknowledged the introduction, mentally preparing herself for the impending quiz.

Leviathan's bluster and threats didn't intimidate her, and with each correct answer she provided, she could sense his frustration mounting, exacerbated by Satan's commentary.

When the moment came to reveal her trump card, Leviathan erupted into a rage, vehemently denying her assertion with a torrent of protests. Yelling that the Lord of Masks wouldn't do such a thing to the Lord of Shadow.

"Lies, all of it! Pure hogwash! Don't think you can fool me by making up random stuff like that!" he bellowed.

Interrupting his tirade, Diavolo interjected with a calm, observant tone, "Hmm. Actually, MC doesn't appear to be lying as far as I can see."

"Levi, you know as well as I do that Lord Diavolo has the ability to discern whether someone is telling the truth." Satan added.

Leviathan's protestations faltered, disbelief etched on his features as he struggled to reconcile his convictions with the truth before him.

"But...no...! Everyone online has been talking about how the Lord of Masks and the Lord of Shadow are totally going to make up... What you said CAN'T happen! It...it just CAN'T!"

Leviathan's transformation was swift. With a surge of dark energy, his form contorted and shifted, the air crackling with unsuppressed power. In an instant, his slender frame elongated and his features sharpened, his skin taking on a sheen of iridescent scales. Horns sprouted from his forehead, curving gracefully as his eyes blazed with a molten hue, reminiscent of lava that boiled the deepest reaches of the ocean. His serpentine tail thrashed and lashed out with erratic intensity, mirroring the agitated movements of a threatened serpent.

Leviathan lunged towards her, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. Despite the urgent warnings from Mammon to flee, MC's instincts held her firmly in place. With desperation coursing through her veins, she summoned her magic, a claymore materializing in her grasp while armor enveloped her body in a protective embrace.

Shifting her stance just in time, she deftly dodged to her left, using the flat side of the blade to intercept Leviathan's attack and push him away. The vibrations of his scales against the blade sent a shiver down her spine, and she silently prayed that she hadn't inflicted any harm, though deep down, she doubted her abilities to cause him significant injury.

As the claymore vanished, replaced by a shield and spear, MC turned toward her opponent and could feel the weight of everyone's gaze upon her. Her heart hammered in her chest, knowing that her true nature had been laid bare, and that she faced imminent danger.

Leviathan rose from where he had fallen, his rage palpable in the air. MC knew that her initial success had been a result of surprise, and she doubted her chances of repeating it.

"Please, don't force my hand," she pleaded. "I don't want this, but I'll defend myself if I must, even if I know the odds are against me."

The chamber fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the ominous hiss of Leviathan's discontent. Before the tension could escalate further, Diavolo's commanding voice sliced through the air like a scythe.

"Stand down, Leviathan," he ordered, his authority brooking no dissent.

Leviathan's protests withered in the face of the Demon Lord's command, and all eyes turned to Diavolo as he addressed MC with measured scrutiny.

"Look at me," he commanded, and she obeyed, steeling herself for what was to come.

"So, you are a hunter," Diavolo stated matter-of-factly.

"I… yes, but no longer. I left that path behind years ago," she confessed, her words weighted with remorse and resignation.

It felt as though she stood on trial, offering her final confession before an inevitable reckoning.

"Were you ever going to tell us?" Mammon's voice cut through the tension, his hurt palpable.

MC sighed heavily, her gaze shifting between the assembled figures. "No. I wanted nothing more to do with it."

"Why?" Diavolo's question hung heavy in the air, demanding honesty.

"Because our purpose had been twisted from protecting humanity's free will to become senseless slaughter," she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. "I won't deny that I took pride in it in the beginning. The ego boost from besting entities who were supposed to be far more powerful than I was intoxicating. It wasn't until my hands were stained with the blood of many angels and demons that I realized what it was I was truly doing."

As she allowed her weapons and armor to dissipate, MC's gaze fell to the floor, heavy with the weight of the lives lost by her hand. Faces of beings flashed before her eyes — some had fought fiercely, others had surrendered, while some had never even seen her coming.

"The more I came into contact with them, the less I could see them as mere creatures to be culled for humanity's protection," she confessed. "They were people, with wants and fears, individuals who had been born into their roles without choice. They had no control over which realm they were born into. They had feelings, desires, just like I did. And most had been summoned to the human realm against their will, called forth by humans seeking blessings or curses. From then on, I let mercy guide me."

"For that," she continued, her voice growing faint, "my sisters in arms cast me out, wiping my name from our history."

Mammon's features twisted with a mixture of hurt and disbelief as MC's confession unfolded before them. His eyes, wide with shock, darted between her and the others in the chamber, struggling to reconcile the image of his friend being a hunter. A pang of betrayal pierced his heart, as if the ground beneath their bond had shifted. Yet, beneath the hurt, there lingered a glimmer of understanding, a recognition that there was more to MC's story than met the eye. Despite the tumult of emotions swirling within him, Mammon's gaze remained locked on MC, silently conveying his unwavering support and the hope that their bond would endure.

Lucifer's stoic facade remained unyielding, though a flicker of suspicion danced in his steely gaze. His keen mind worked overtime, dissecting her words for any hint of deception or ulterior motive. The revelation only served to validate his lingering doubts about MC, solidifying his belief that her presence among them was fraught with hidden agendas. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a subtle indication of the wariness that had plagued him since their first encounter. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her, his resolve to protect his brothers from any potential threat only strengthened by her confession.

Beel's expression softened with empathy. Though surprised, he regarded her with a gentle understanding, his eyes reflecting a depth of compassion that surpassed judgment. Despite the weight of her past actions, Beel recognized the sincerity in MC's words, sensing the turmoil she must have endured.

Asmo's demeanor shifted subtly, his usual indifference replaced by a flicker of curiosity fueled by self-interest. While initially uninterested in her presence, the revelation of her past as a hunter ignited a spark that had previously been absent. His gaze lingered on her, though his scrutiny was not born out of empathy or concern, but rather a selfish desire to satisfy his own curiosity. The prospect of unraveling the mysteries surrounding her magic holding a tantalizing allure.

Leviathan's eyes widened in shock, his jealous outburst forgotten. Their past dealings flickered through his mind, casting a shadow of doubt over his perception of her. While he had once viewed her as nothing more than a means to an end, her sudden revelation threatened to upend his carefully constructed worldview. His paranoia, a constant companion, whispered doubts in his ear, urging him to distance himself. The notion of forging a pact with MC, despite their agreement, now seemed fraught with uncertainty.

Satan's eyes gleamed at the promise of uncharted knowledge, his mind ablaze with a myriad of questions, each craving to unravel the enigma of her past and the intricate motivations of her order.

"How is it that your 'sisters' managed to elude discovery for so long?" he inquired, his voice laced with curiosity. "Centuries of clandestine hunts on both celestial and infernal fronts surely would have left a mark. When did this begin? And who was its progenitor?"

MC hesitated, her uncertainty stemming from the lingering remnants of spells that had once bound her to silence.

"Our origins trace back to a single woman, though her identity remains unknown to me," she revealed. "Details of her existence were obscured, relegated to forbidden archives. What I do know is that each of us is a descendant of hers, inheriting not only her lineage but also her magic. I am the first in three generations to manifest this magic, however. The dilution of our bloodline has dimmed the genes potency."

A mix of astonishment and relief bloomed in her chest, a surge of liberation coursing through her veins. She had shattered the shackles of secrecy that bound her, reclaiming her voice after years of silent submission.

Undeterred, MC forged ahead, her loyalty to her sisters eroded by the passage of time. "As for our concealment, with each entity vanquished, we acquired new arcane arts, using them to cloak our existence and our elders used them to enforced our silence. Moreover, our armor veils our very souls, rendering us indistinguishable to both demon and angel when not in the field."

Diavolo cut in, prompting MC to look at him.

"Why reveal this now?" he pressed.

"Because I dedicated countless hours to unraveling the bindings that once tethered me," she declared, her tone resolute. "I refused to remain ensnared by chains that held no sway over me any longer."

Satan's contemplative gaze bore into MC before posing his next question, "How is that a meer human like yourself, magic aside, has been able to overpower angels and demons?"

"As I'm sure you know," she began, "angels and demons are inherently weakened when traversing the human realm. Some magics draw upon the energy of their respective realms, and when removed from that source, they become vulnerable to manipulation and restraint. This vulnerability applies primarily to lesser demons and angels. However, it's important to note that our tactics would prove practically useless against beings such as yourselves or the Archangels. Hence, why you have never been targeted."

Barbatos maintained his serene composure. He regarded her with a knowing gaze. His powers had afforded him a unique perspective. Though he had been privy to MC's past as a hunter, only sharing his discovery with the demon lord, Barbatos had seen no cause for concern. In his eyes, her journey had been one of growth and redemption, and he quietly observed her honesty in this moment with quiet approval.

Diavolo's cheerful demeanor returned. Barbatos' subtle encouragement had indeed led him to ponder the implications of MC's past. Yet, rather than rushing to judgment, he had chosen to reserve his conclusions until after getting to know her better and her honesty in this solidified his trust in her. In his eyes, compassion and understanding were the cornerstones of effective leadership, and he applied this principle not only to his fellow demons but also to humanity.

Diavolo's laughter filled the room, resonating with a warmth that belied the gravity of the moment. "Thank you for your honesty. It's clear to me that you've been truthful. I'm delighted to say that you truly were the perfect candidate for the exchange program."

Gasps of astonishment reverberated from the others, even Lucifer's usually composed facade cracked with surprise, while MC stood in disbelief, her jaw nearly hitting the floor.

"You knew?" she stated, shock written across her face.

"Of course," Diavolo replied with an unwavering smile. "We took great care in selecting participants for this program, ensuring the safety and integrity of all involved. I must say, I'm impressed by your ability to keep it hidden for so long, and equally surprised that others hadn't noticed your familiarity with certain subjects."

"But why keep it a secret?" MC questioned, her confusion evident. "Wouldn't it have been simpler to address it from the outset?"

"While it may have been easier, it wouldn't have fostered growth or understanding," Barbatos interjected, prompted by his lord to offer insight. "Your past is best shared by you, the one who lived it. Each person's perspective shapes their understanding, and by witnessing your emotions and reactions, we've all gained a deeper understanding of this aspect of humanity allowing us to cultivate better relations in the future."

MC stood in stunned silence, her emotions swirling in a chaotic whirlwind of relief, confusion, and disbelief. She struggled to find the right words to express the myriad of feelings coursing through her, her mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

"I honestly expected you to throw me into a pit of fire after killing some of your people," she finally managed to voice.

Diavolo's laughter filled the room once more, echoing with a warmth that washed over her like a comforting embrace. "While the loss of my people is indeed a tragedy, it's important to remember that those of us gathered here have all taken lives in the past," he remarked, his tone gentle yet resolute. "It would be hypocritical for any of us to pass judgment on you. Besides, I have full confidence that you no longer harbor any intention of causing harm to anyone."

As the weight of Diavolo's words settled over the room, a sense of peace descended upon MC. She felt a burden she had carried for so long begin to lift from her shoulders.

With a grateful nod, MC found her voice once more. "Thank you," she said. "For seeing beyond this and giving me the chance to prove myself.

Diavolo's smile widened, and with a final glance around the room, MC let out a deep breath. She was ready to embrace this change and embark on the next chapter with courage and resilience.

This got weird toward the end because I'm tired and have only slept 6 hours in the last 48. I may or may not do one more chapter that includes relationship changes with the brothers and the introduction of Simeon, Luke, Solomon, and of course Belphie and their reactions to her past. It really depends on how im feeling and if I still have the urge to write. this whole thing probably sucks if im being honest.

[drunken-ender-art]

Blightknight Amity

The younger scion of House Blight, Amity is a prodigy in the arcane art of Abomination Magic, rivaling the likes of Hunters and Students of the Blood Coven.

Her talents and skills put to service under the illustrious sigil of her House, stalking the dark alleys and moonlit squares of the giant city of Bones'yard with unmatched elegance and finess, as she purge the streets from beasts and enemies of the House alike.

It's during one of those many nights of Hunt that she would meet a particular new huntress... from that day on the nights of Hunt became less lonely, and blood was not the only thing she would eventually be looking for.

"The tale of House Blight is written in blood, human..."

House Blight is as pompous as it is powerfull on the Boiling Isles.

While the House as a whole is formed by a court of witches and knights, its heart and lead is the Blight Family itself, formed by Duke Alador and his wife Duchess Odalia, the twins Lady Emira and Lord Edric, and the young prodigy Lady Amity.

They are the only one, outside the Students and Researchers of the Blood Coven, to perform and actually create Abomination magic, a dark arcane art made from a very difficult and obscure process of refinement of the blood.

While all the youngs of House Blight are required to be trained in the way of the Hunt in a way proper to the House's status, only the scions of the Family are trained in the way of Abomination magic, seeking the precious blood needed to fuel their magic... this, with their pomposity and snobbish attitude, often led to many ill mouthed rumors such as the Blights being vampiric monsters.

Obviously no one ever dared to say that to their face.

"...I don't know what those dreams of yours means, but these are not people anymore ..."

House Blight is also known for his own Workshop, led by Duke Alador himself and few others students, producing a vast arsenal of Abomination-fueled weapons, mostly for the Blood Coven and few very rich patricians that can afford such pieces of arts. Those weapons however, are toys compared to the power of a real Abomination magic wielder, for when properly "brewed" and used, Abomination goop has the capacity to latch onto the flesh of its victim and eat away the tissue, drawing the blood to the surface and letting it spill copiously.

Spectre is no such toy.

The handle is but a conduit and container for the abomination. The blade, its sharpness and power are all fruit of Amity's ability of manipulating the goop. The ability to effortlessly change and shift the blade mid-combat into two claws' like daggers a skill honed in infinite bloodshed under the light of the moon.

Spellcaster, while a more standard House Blight weapon in function, is nonetheless a masterpiece of Alador's craftmanship. A gift for the most skilled daughter House Blight has ever seen.

"...so close your heart and let the blood flow copiously... until our heads spin together drunkenly into the night~"

Amity, Blightknight of House Blight, one of the best huntresses on the Boiling Isles.

Continuation of my Owlborne concept: The Owl House X Bloodborne crossover

[residentflamingo]

Only One Call Away

Rosé x gn! reader

Summary ———> Rosie decides to go out to drink with her friends. All is fine until reader gets a call from her two hours later. What happened while she was out?

Requested?: yes 🫶

Warnings: bullying, toxic friends, & cursing

Genre: hurt/comfort & a fluffy ending

A/N: To the person who requested this, thank you so much because this was probably the most challenging and longest thing I've ever written. And I put all my heart and soul into this. I think I made it a lot longer than I was supposed to, but that's okay. I always love a challenge, and a perfect opportunity to hone my writing skills. Anyway, I hope both the person who requested this and everyone else reading, enjoys this fic. You can also check out my other stuff if you would like, it's very much appreciated ❤️

Word count ———> 5,394

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 → 10:00 PM 

“Babe, are you sure about this? Your friends are terrible! They don’t even pay attention to you half of the time when you guys hang out.” 

“Yes, it’ll be fine! Besides, they're not as bad as you say they are. I’ve been friends with them for a long time, they love hanging out with me!”

You were currently standing in front of your girlfriend, about to escort her into the cold winter night, trying to convince her not to go out with her friends. She was wearing a beautiful purple dress, with a cream colored fluffy coat over her shoulders, and a beautiful pair of Saint Laurent heels that made her look powerful with each step.

Her hair was curled, and it effortlessly flowed down her shoulders, making her look like an absolute goddess. You couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. You felt so lucky to have her as your significant other.

The only thing you found truly bad about her, was her friends.

No matter how good she looked, they always found different ways to ridicule and belittle her. Not her four best friends from Blackpink. No, these were her other friends she claimed she met in high school.

She would tell you stories of how they were really close back then, and how she kept in touch with them over the years as she got more famous. You loved hearing her tell stories of the adventures they had, and how she used to sneak out during the night and go on joyrides with them.

You hung out with her and those friends one time, just trying to see what they were like, and you couldn’t stand how rude they were. They constantly threw insults at her, mentioning how her aussie accent makes her sound silly when she talks, saying she needs to get a different hair style, and even making fun of the outfit she was wearing. You were absolutely disgusted at the way they were acting towards her. It was as if they didn’t even treat her like a normal human being.

They would even emotionally manipulate Rosie, making her think they were just joking, so she never noticed their horrible behaviors. When you confronted her about them, she always just insisted to you that that’s how they joke around. So it was hard trying to convince her to not be friends with them anymore. You love your girlfriend very much and you just want the best for her. You would hate for her to keep getting her heart broken over and over by those low-lifes she calls “friends.” But for now, all you could do was wait for Rosie to realize the huge mistake she was making.

You sighed, “Okay, whatever you say. Are you sure you don’t wanna stay home instead? I can order takeout, and we can watch movies.”

“Yes honey, I’m sure. There’s nothing to worry about. My friends will keep an eye on me, and make sure I don’t get too wasted.”

“Alright then. Just remember, I’m only one call away if you need me. I don’t mind picking you up.”

Rosie shook her head, and smiled at how protective you were being. She then stepped up towards you, put both of her hands on each side of your face, and looked you in the eyes and said “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. I love you darling.” She then gave you a soft kiss on the lips, slowly walked towards the door, and turned around before opening it to look back and make sure you said “I love you” back to her.

“I love you too.” You said softly, as you waved her goodbye and watched her walk through the door and saunter down the long hallway of the apartment complex. Her words from earlier kept replaying in your head, making you wonder if she was ever going to come to a realization of how she needed to get rid of her supposed high school buddies.

After closing the front door, you turned around looking at Hank saying, “I guess it’s just me and you now buddy.” He leaned his head down on the tile floor with a loud sigh looking depressed. Almost as if he perfectly understood what you just said. You let out a loud sigh and plopped down on the couch, deciding to watch some boring Netflix shows that have been recommended to you for sometime.

Man you sure did miss her already, even though she’s only been gone for ten minutes. Before you started watching tv, you picked up your phone and made sure your notification volume was at full blast, so you wouldn’t miss one text or call from Rosie.

→ 11:30 PM

Meanwhile at the bar in downtown Seoul…

“Hey I’m gonna go get a drink from the bar, you guys want anything?”

“No, we're good, you hoe. Besides, you probably wouldn’t even order our drinks right anyways, knowing you and your terrible accent. People can even understand what you’re saying half of the time!”

Rosie’s so-called friends all started laughing at McKenzie’s remark, making Rosie’s lip quiver and her eyes start to water. So far tonight they didn’t hold back on the snide comments, and rude remarks against her. By the end of the night, Rosie had already felt like she was being pushed to her breaking point.

She had no idea how she never realized how mean her friends actually were to her. She hated how she would just ignore the rude remarks half of the time, and never say anything about it. She hated being taken advantage of. She knew deep down that they weren’t her real friends, it was just a matter of realizing it that was important.

Tonight she had a recollection of all the times they asked her for money, begged for free concert tickets, made fun of her outfits, bullied her, and even made her pay for most meals because they were “too expensive”. After tonight, she wanted nothing to do with them. She knew she should’ve listened to you, but she was too scared to let them go. She’s had so many good memories with them, and it was so hard for her to just throw it away.

They used to be such good people. It saddened her how much they changed over the years, and how she couldn’t do anything about it. Tonight was her chance to finally lift that weight off of her shoulders, and move on with the next chapter of life. Preferably without them in it.

“Okayyyy bestie, we’re gonna go to the bathrooom real quick. We’ll be righttt back heheh.” McKenzie slurred. Her and the rest of the people in the group turned around, and walked off into the bathroom, leaving Rosie alone as she went up to go order something at the crowded bar.

About 15 minutes later when Rosie finally got her drink, she walked over to the table everyone was originally sitting at, expecting them to be there waiting on her. Only to find out that none of them were there like they said they would be…

“Hey guys, they finally got done making my drink! Wait where is everyone..?”

→ 12:05 AM

“Aw shit, what the fuck is that?!” You shouted with confusion, as your phone suddenly started going off. You fell off the couch, startled from the loud noise, and then frantically searched for your phone in between the cushions. You realized you had fallen asleep on the couch, and was out for almost 3 hours. God that show must have been really boring then you thought. After finding your phone, your stomach dropped reading the caller id. Rosie. You quickly pressed answer, and whispered “Hey what’s up? Is everything alright?”

There was a couple seconds of silence over the phone, making you really worried, wondering if it was a prank caller or a kidnapper. Panic was about the only thing going through your mind right now, just begging for her to say one word over the phone. Then she finally did. You could hear her sniffling and crying, making your stomach drop.

“N-no. Something happened earlier. We were at this really crowded club and I went up to get a drink real quick, and when I turned around a couple minutes later, they were all gone. l-looked through the whole club asking if anyone knew where t-they went, and all of them said no. So I went outside, thinking I could walk home by myself, but I-I ended up getting lost, and now I have no idea where I am. They left me all alone and n-never texted me asking where I was. I’m so scared, Y/N. Just come and get me please.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious? They just left you all alone in the club? Those fucking bastards. Okay, I need you to stay where you are, and try to send me your location from your phone. Once you do that I’ll be able to track you down, and come pick you up. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yeah I can do that. I’m so sorry for calling you this late Y/N. I didn’t think something like this would happen.”

“Honey it’s okay, it doesn’t matter anyways. I don’t give a shit about what time it is. If it was 4 AM, I still would’ve come to pick you up. Don’t worry about it at all. Just focus on sending me your location.”

You let out a deep breath that you had been holding in, hoping it would calm you down a little, after thinking about Rosie’s friends leaving her by herself at the bar. They were absolute pieces of shit to her. Completely knowing that she’s an idol, and that she could've gotten kidnapped or stalked, they still did it anyway. I mean what did she ever do to deserve that?

You couldn't even begin to imagine how scared she was right now. All alone in an unknown part of the city, losing her friends in the same night, and knowing she was being used all those years because she was famous? Absolutely terrible.

While waiting for her to respond, you hurried up and got dressed, picked up Hank, grabbed your car keys, and rushed out the door to run to your car.

“O-Okay I sent it to you. You should be getting it in a second.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in five minutes! Don’t move or go anywhere unless someone is following you okay?”

“Okay I will. I love you Y/N. Please hurry…” She said in a quavering voice.

“Okay I will don’t worry, bye!” You quickly hung up the phone, tossed it in the passenger seat, and swallowed a big lump in your throat. Your hands were currently gripped on the steering wheel so tight that your knuckles were turning white, your legs were shaking with anxiety, adrenaline was coursing through your veins, and sweat was running down your spine.

You had never been more panicked in any situation, than at this very moment. The constant reminder that your girlfriend was all by herself walking through the streets, in the midst of the dangerous neighborhoods, had you on edge. In a split second you quickly pulled out of the parking lot, faster than you ever had in your entire life.

You were currently speeding through the streets, going at least twenty miles over the speed limit, with all of your surroundings flashing by so fast that you couldn’t even process where you were. Quite a few citizens and onlookers had given you dirty looks, and shouts of insults along the way.

You obviously knew better than to speed. But with the situation at hand, you didn’t give a fuck if you got a ticket or not. Emotions were running high, and your mind was working faster than your normal decision making usually was.

Funny enough, right before the navigation on your phone signaled you weren’t that far from the destination, “A Thousand Miles” started playing on the radio. “Really? Right now?” you thought. The irony of it was quite hilarious, but that was something you wouldn’t notice until later. You really would walk a thousand miles for your girlfriend if you had too.

After making a sharp turn through the dark alleyway, you drove very slowly down the unfamiliar street, making sure Rosie would spot you in your small vehicle. The alley was filthy, trash layed out everywhere, and street lights were flickering making the area seem even more ominous. You hated going down dark places like these since they always made you so nervous, but that nervousness turned into determination as you were frantically searching for your girlfriend.

While your eyes were scanning the area through your windshield, you were suddenly startled by your girlfriend standing in front of the beaming headlights. You swiftly slammed your foot on the breaks, and made the car come to an abrupt stop. It seemingly scared the both of you, as you put your hand over your heart wondering if you just had a mini heart attack.

Meanwhile, Rosie’s eyes were widened with fear seeing an unknown car drive slowly in the alleyway, thinking she was about to get kidnapped by someone. Fear was running all the way through her body. So much so that her hands were shaking, and chills went down her spine. She slowly backed away from the car, and clutched her purse with both hands just in case she had to make a run for it. You looked at her and tilted your head in confusion, wondering why she wasn’t coming towards the car. Then you realized, “Ohhh. She probably thinks I’m someone else trying to pick her up.”

You then rolled the window down, and stuck your head out the window shouting "Hey, it’s me!” Rosie let out a deep sigh of relief, and thanked the lord for sending you her way to protect her. She felt so reassured to see you, knowing she could finally wrap her arms around you, and let out all of her bottled up emotions from tonight.

She was finally safe.

After a couple seconds of calming her nerves, she snaps out of it, and slowly walks over to the passenger side of the car. Climbing in, and firmly sitting down on the comfort of the smooth leather seats. She sits her purse down near her feet, and leans back in the seat letting out another deep sigh. This time to suppress her emotions down, so she wouldn’t have a full on nervous breakdown. You looked over at her and mumbled “Hi honey,” not wanting to speak too loud, since it was still late at night. But still trying to show excitement in seeing her, since you were so glad you found her.

She looked over at you and tried to speak, but words couldn't come out of her mouth. Her lip was trembling and her breaths became short, as all her emotions were threatening to break free from the invisible bottle she was containing them in. You took notice of this, and reached over to wrap your arms around her chest, enveloping her in a warm hug.

You had never seen her this pent up before, and it absolutely just broke your heart to pieces. You then made sure to speak up and let her know it was okay to let her emotions go, since she was so used to hiding them for the camera and the public eye.“It’s okay love. Let it all out, you can let your guard down around me. I’m here to listen.”

The flood gates had then been opened, and Rosie’s eyes began overflowing with tears as she let out a heartbreaking sob only you had ever heard. Not even her long time friends, or family members had ever heard her cry this hard. She felt completely comfortable around you, and decided to just let all of her emotions go in that moment.

She couldn’t believe how long her friends were using her for, and just the selfish way they had left her behind. On top of all the insults thrown at her. She tried to just ignore them, but she just couldn’t take it anymore. Along with that, she also felt guilty not listening to you whenever you tried to warn her about the toxicity she was constantly putting herself around. “How could I be so dumb, and not think to listen?” she thought.

She suddenly pulled away from your embrace, looked you in the eyes, and said “I’m so sorry for not listening to you, I don’t know what I was thinking. Y-you were only trying to help me, and instead I-”

As Rosie was going on trying to apologize to you, you interrupted her and hugged her again saying, “Hey hey hey, don’t worry about it. That doesn’t matter now. Everyone makes mistakes, and I know it wasn’t your fault. Besides, you’re better off without them now. You got me, Lisa, Jisoo, and Jennie to talk too. So trust me, you aren’t losing much.”

“Thank you Y/N. I don’t know how, but you always know the right thing to say. It really amazes me how perfect you are sometimes” Rosie mumbled, leaning her head over your shoulder, and giving you a tight squeeze to your chest.

At home whenever she needed advice, or a little encouragement for the day, you somehow always knew what to say no matter what it was. You’re always the best person she can rely on, the one person she could really be her true self around. As she thought about it a little harder, this was a moment in her life that determined how much she really does appreciate you, and how much she really does want to be with you.

She smiled to herself, thinking of how good of a partner you would be when you guys got married someday. She couldn’t wait for that day to come. Marriage was always something she had dreamed about, and you made it even more possible for her. When she finally snapped back to reality, she took a look over your shoulder and saw a familiar face sitting patiently in the back seat.

It was Hank, her favorite dog in the world! She slowly pulled away from you with one of her eyebrows raised, “Is that Hank there in the back seat?” You turned your head around to look at him too and chuckled saying, “Yeah I brought him, knowing you would be super excited to see him.” Hank looked up at Rosie and started wagging his tail with enthusiasm, sharing the same excitement Rosie had.

She then leaned over and picked up Hank, gently putting him in her lap. “Hiiii buddy! Are you so excited to see mommy? I know you are! Hahaha” You looked over at both of them and smiled, happy to see Rosie so cheerful again. While looking at her, a good idea had suddenly crossed your mind and you thought it was perfect for the situation at hand.

“Hey babe, you wanna go get some ice cream?” you asked.

“Yeah that sounds great!” she said cheerfully.

After checking to see if Rosie had her seat belt on, you put the car in drive, and gently pressed your foot on the gas to make the car accelerate. As you drove around a little bit, you could see people walking home from the bars, and stumbling over their own feet from consuming so much alcohol.

It was pretty much a normal sight, since it was a late friday night. You could tell that the only places that were open were the bars, making you a little bit nervous since you promised Rosie her ice cream. And most fast food restaurants definitely did not stay open until midnight.

But to your luck, as you made a left turn down to main street, you spotted a nice burger place that was still open. With the name “TJ Burger”, flashing on a huge, bright, neon sign. “Perfect” you mumbled under your breath. Hopefully they had ice cream, because this was probably the only fast food restaurant open for miles.

As you pulled up to the drive through looking at the menu, they had almost every kind of American food you could think of. Burgers, onion rings, chicken tenders, whatever it was, they certainly had it. Then when you looked over to the other side of the menu, there it was, twenty different kinds of milkshakes and ice cream flavors.

You smiled and looked over at Rosie, pointing to the menu to prove to her that they indeed did have ice cream. She smiled and mumbled “Yayyy”. While you were looking at the menu, you were suddenly interrupted by a booming voice from the loudspeaker that spooked the both of you a little bit. You shook your head and laughed over how jumpy you were, then you turned to Rosie and asked her,

“What flavor do you want honey?”

“Uhmm, I’ll just get chocolate.” she answered with a whisper.

You turned back around facing the loudspeaker, ordering a small vanilla cone for yourself, along with Rosie’s ice cream, then casually pulled up to the drive-thru window to wait.

The atmosphere in the car was kind of awkward, since you hadn’t really talked about what had previously happened earlier. So while waiting, Rosie wanted to find a way to kill the time. So, she got curious and asked you, “Have you ever been here before?”

You looked over at her and answered, “Nope! But I heard it’s really good. Why do you ask?”

She shook her head and said, “Oh I was just wondering. I figured you knew about this place already.”

“Nope I had never been here until now. I mean, I knew it was-”

Before you could finish your sentence, the fast food worker interrupted you and said, ”Here’s your ice cream.” with a rude tone. He then carefully handed you the cones, and before you could even say thank you he said “You’re welcome have a nice night.” then shut the window with an attitude.

Rosie chuckled saying, “Wow he must be really pissed off since we came in 10 minutes before they closed.” You widened your eyes sarcastically and laughed, “Yeah I think so too. That’s okay though, at least he didn’t notice you. That would’ve been a whole other ordeal. Anyways, here's your ice cream honey.”

Rosie smiled and grabbed the cone saying, “Thank you so much. I really don’t deserve you.” You smiled back at her, got all of your stuff organized, and then put your foot on the gas driving away into the city. She continued to shuffle in the seat trying to get comfortable, and finally took a small taste of her ice cream. Her smile grew even more after tasting the ice cream, and she started to do her little happy dance. You took a quick glance over at her, and laughed at how cute she was being.

On the way over towards the secret destination you were driving to, “Cooler Than Me” by Mike Posner started playing on the radio. It was a song both you and Rosie were very familiar with, since you both grew up in the early 2000s.

She quickly got excited upon hearing it and started singing the lyrics, “ If I could write you a song to make you fall in looove, I would already have you up under my arrm~” You giggling over how silly she was being by swaying her arms and singing with the music. Soon enough, you caught on and started singing along with her too.

By the time you both were done singing to the song, you were driving up a gravel road leading to the top of a hill. Rosie looked around confused, having no idea where she was at. So she turned to you for help.

“Hey, where are we at? I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”

“Haha, you’ll see…”

You slowly drove the car up onto the top of the hill, and put it in park. There, through the windshield of the car, was a marvelous view that cast upon the whole city of Seoul. It was an absolutely beautiful site that made Rosie’s jaw stay open in shock. She had never seen anything quite like this before.

You could see all of the twinkling lights coming from the towers, all of the ant size cars driving down the highways, and all of the shining stars in the sky that were more visible tonight than they had been any other night. Your father used to take you to this spot during the early years of your childhood. It was a very special place to you, and you had only ever shared it with two people. Your mom, and Rosie.

Rosie couldn’t even believe what she was seeing right now. She had been living in Seoul for almost half of her life, and she still never knew there was even a spot like this. She was absolutely amazed as to how beautiful this sight was. I mean, how could you not be? Rosie wanted to see the view even more, so she placed Hank down in the back seat, slowly opened the door, and stepped out of the car in awe.

You watched her as she walked up even closer to the edge of the hill, and continued to look into the distance with amazement. She then turned around and signaled you to come on, waiting to share this moment with you. You obliged and got out of the car, jogging towards her.

Now standing next to her, you looked out into the distance admiring all of the lights gleaming in the vast city of Seoul. It was still as beautiful as it was during your childhood. But as happy as you were to see it, Rosie looked like something was bothering her still.

“What’s on your mind honey?” you said softly.

As she looked out in the distance, her smile faded a little bit and her expression was replaced with gratitude. “Well, I-I don’t know what to say. This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen. Even though this night was supposed to be one of the worst ones of my life, you made it the best one. I haven’t had this much fun in, gosh… I don’t even know how long. All I can think of right now is, thank you. Thank you so much, I don’t know what I would ever do without you. And, oh yeah, and I guess this ice cream is kinda good too.”

She started giggling over the little joke she made, and tried to continue eating the ice cream from earlier. At that moment, it almost seemed like she had completely forgotten what had happened a couple hours prior.

All the snide comments, the betrayal, losing her friends, it was all becoming a mild loss for her now. At that moment she had realized how much she really needed someone like you in her life. Rosie continued to laugh so hard that tears were forming in the corners of her eyes.

You smiled back at her and said “You don’t have to thank me Rosie. You are my girlfriend after all. I would do anything for you. Like I said, I’m always one call away if you need me.” Rosie’s laughter slowly settled, and she walked over to you to give you a warm hug. “But I do have to thank you somehow.”

As Rosie pulled away from the hug, and gave you a soft kiss on your lips, you were suddenly lifted up to cloud nine. She had kissed you many times before, but this kiss felt extra special. It was a kiss of gratitude, love, and compassion rolled all into one.

You stood back from her, feeling stunned, and tried to cover the growing smile forming on your lips. Along with your cheeks turning red, like you had just received your first kiss. Rosie giggled even more and took the perfect opportunity to tease you.

“Honey are you really blushing?! I have kissed you so many times, how could you be blushing now?”

You retorted back, “Whaaatt, I can’t help it when the hottest woman in Seoul is practically kissing me. You can’t blame me ya know…”

“Yeah true… Haha! Naur naur, I'm just kidding.”

“Oh shut up! Don’t make me take back what I just said.”

“Oh yeah? You won’t. I dare you!”

As the both of you continued to bicker and giggle like longtime best friends, the night had gone by a little bit faster than the both of you had realized. About an hour later, you both realized you had left Hank in the car after he started barking and whining continuously. He wasn’t in danger or anything, you both knew he was probably getting lonely waiting for the both of you to finish talking to each other.

So as soon as you heard him barking, you stopped laughing and said, “Oh shoot! I better get Hank, I bet the poor guy is getting lonely in there.” You then quickly jogged back over to the car, and picked him up out of the car seat, bringing him to where Rosie was standing.

While the both of you, including Hank, were looking into the incredible night view of Seoul, a little lightbulb popped into your head and you had a great idea to finish off the night. You jumped up onto the hood of your car and leaned your whole body back onto it, trying to make yourself comfortable.

Rosie laughed, “What are you doing?” You looked back at her and said, “I’m looking up at the stars silly. Here you should come try it too. The stars are really nice at this time of night.” You patted the spot next to you, intending for her to lay there. She shrugged her shoulders and mumbled, “I guess it couldn’t hurt to do it once.”

Rosie then placed Hank down next to her spot, and climbed up onto the car to lay back and stargaze with you. Exactly like the reaction from some time ago seeing the lit up city, she looked up at the sky in awe, with her mouth slightly open in amazement.

The sky was aglow with a visible canopy of shimmering stars, and the constellations were perfectly aligned making the sky look even more magical. “Wow..” she mumbled, “You really do have all sorts of tricks up your sleeve huh.” You smiled, loving how she was enjoying the view as much as you were.

“Yeah I guess I do. Wait, look up there, it’s the big dipper!”

“Oh look there’s the little dipper too!” Rosie shouted back, pointing up at the sky.

As the both of you were looking up at the sky, savoring the moment for what it was worth, the moon became very visible as the clouds started to drift away from it. It was a full moon. Rosie thought it was a cute coincidence. The moon was full just like how complete her life felt with you being in it. She looked back over towards you, and said, “I love you y/n.” With the stars reflecting off her eyes, making her look even more ethereal. You smiled and turned your head over towards her, “I love you too Rosie.”

The both of you continued to lay in comfortable silence, as the cool summer breeze drifted through the air, and not a single sound could be heard for miles. Rosie knew that after tonight, her whole perspective of you had changed. Not in a bad way of course, but in an even lovelier way.

You had done everything you could to make her smile again, and she really appreciated it. Not many people would go that distance, but now she definitely knew you would. Even though she had lost some “friends” of hers tonight, she gained something more important. Her unconditional love for you. Thanks to you, this would be one of her favorite memories to be shared for years to come. The love you both have for each other would become even stronger. And when she got back home, she could brag to the girls how cool you were too ;)

[rayalltheway]

Remember the Little Warrior AU?

Well guess what campers - we got a new LMK OC for it

She’s a newcomer to a whole lotta established lore so quite a bit of that is mixed in, but I’ll try to contextualize it easier. Character Description time (The events described go up to Season 4 of LMK) :D

Tiě hú

Alias: The Iron/Gunpowder Fox

Gender: Nonbinary She/her

Age: 2000+ (Young adult mentally/physically)

Species: Hulijing (Awakened Gunpowder Weapon)

Background: Tie Hu is no typical fox demon - she was once an ancient experimental gunpowder device crafted by humans, and through means of cultivation, eventually came to life. This might have something to do with her human makers being unknowingly being aided by hulijings, stealing her away for their own selfish purposes just as she gained awareness. Her time with the hulijings was throughly unpleasant, eventually getting discarded once she proved to be more trouble than she was worth. As technically a “thing” unable to remember the reason for her existence, Tie Hu was aimless until she encountered the leader of an isolated clan of demons, a gibbon named Bai Meimao, who took the young fox girl into her fold and showed her true compassion. Tie Hu would become a faithful servant to the Butterfly clan, utterly devoted to her lady (and to a lesser extent, Bai Meimao’s elder sibling Changbiyuan) like a loyal daughter. She would use her nature to hone herself into a deadly assassin skilled with gunpowder weaponry -- still taking it as her purpose to be solely a living weapon rather than an actual living being. But when a powerful bone demon came and destroyed her adoptive family, including Bai Meimao, Tie Hu was unable to fulfill it and was burnt out, forced into a lifeless state for over a millennia.

During this time, Changbiyuan had escaped Lady Bone Demon as a spirit, and eventually garnered enough strength and help to return to the mortal realm and avenge their family -- but was also left believing they were the only survivor of their clan. Meanwhile, Tie Hu finally woke up thanks to the sheer force of a powerful fire somewhere in the world...and unlike Changbiyuan, she’s not ready to let go yet. She wants her family back, and rumours of a scroll containing memories of the world might be her best shot.

(Concept sketches)

Soooo...she's basically an ancient version of a robot. A very explosive tempered, socially withdrawn and immature robot who wields guns, is made of iron, heat and gunpowder and hates the demons she’s modelled after, but yeah. I’ve already got a lot for her already, hope you guys are intrigued:D

(young design)

Oh, also she’s an oc x canon ship with MK. Anyways more to come on this fox girl ehehehh

Link to the LWAU master post

[bestworstcase]

mankind, salem says, is strong, wise, resourceful, passionate, and ingenious. (she notes “resourceful” twice.) there will be no victory in strength, and notably she excludes “strength” when she lists the traits that allowed humanity to prevail and thrive despite the grimm; ergo wisdom, resourcefulness, passion, and ingenuity are the four virtues she actually values.

wisdom—experiential knowledge and soundness of judgment—choice.

resourcefulness—the ability to analyze a problem and apply what you have intelligently to resolve it—knowledge.

passion—intense emotion and, via christianity, connotatively profound suffering and death leading to resurrection—destruction.

ingenuity—inventiveness and originality, imagination—creation.

these are the four divine qualities she’s talking about, creation and destruction, knowledge and choice, but rather than recite them by rote as ozma does, salem defines what they mean to her, and in doing so she reveals that she values knowledge above all, because she sees choice and destruction and creation as things arising from different forms of knowledge. when she says ‘there will be no victory in strength’ what she means is ‘victory lies in knowing.’

[in ‘the shallow sea’, the god of animals is characterized as sagacious, perspicacious, and veracious—wise, insightful, honest—and fascinated by human adaptability or, you might call it, resourcefulness. do you hear the way this rhymes?]

you have traveled here today in search of knowledge, says ozpin, to hone your craft and acquire new skills. but all i see is wasted energy in need of purpose, direction. you assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. it is up to you to take the first step.

salem believes that knowledge is everything; that it underlies creation and destruction and choice, that it is essential, that without it humanity would have never risen from the ashes the brothers left behind and could never have survived in this unforgiving and unforgiven world.

ozpin states in no uncertain terms that the pursuit of knowledge is a waste of energy. he believes—or at least he would like his students to believe—that knowledge is impotent, that what matters is to be given direction and guided by unerring purpose. what he values is faith, as he tells coco in ‘after the fall:’

Make no mistake, there is a higher power guiding our actions. Call it Fate. Call it Destiny. Call it the gods. Or maybe it’s simply the randomness of existence. Whatever it is, I have to trust that we are here for a reason.

from the very beginning, in plain sight, this story has been about the ideological conflict between one who champions the truth and one who stands for blind faith. the undoing of ozpin’s cause is his decision to lay his hopes on the shoulders of a more honest soul.

the grimm are manifestations of anonymity, pyrrha says. that is why they lack souls, why they are the darkness and we are the light; but it’s about knowing, understanding both dark and light (and everybody has some of both). yet it is the grimm-witch who values knowledge and the huntsman who rejects it.

while ozpin tells ruby that she has to be perfect all the time lest everyone turn against her, port tells weiss that her bad attitude reflects poorly on her and she ought to spend less time worrying about not getting what she felt entitled to and instead focus on honing her skills and becoming the best person she can be. both ruby and weiss take the advice they’re given utterly to heart, winding it into the very core of their selves; ruby drowns, and weiss blossoms.

the subtext has a bullhorn.

[hyperfixationcritter]

Ok so I rewatched some of the first few episodes of Soul Eater and I have more thoughts to share with the class lol XD about the au

I forgot that Death the Kid started to attend the DWMA after attempting to intervene on Maka, Black Star, Soul and Tsubaki's remedial lesson. Whether or not Mel is a child of death or blessed by death, I'd like her to have some connection to Kindred in this au. Because of this scene I thought it worth considering if she similarly, was doing some work on her own/directly with Kindred before taking an official position at the Academy. Mel's position in Piltover in canon was about her making a life for herself (in exile) based on her own principles, and I think it makes sense to have that sentiment to carry over into this au.

Ambessa's role in this au is hard for me to place because, like Death and Death the Kid in the manga, she dies and Mel takes her place but it makes more since to me to have Kindred, the actual death gods, be Death. I feel like Ambessa works better as a meister than a weapon (Rictus would be her weapon) but given her connection to Kindred and theories that came from her music video.... I could potentially see her as a death scythe and maybe the other Kindred blessed she fought in the music video could be death scythes as well????? I'm not sure just yet 🤔

On the note of Viktor, to keep some of the elements of his character in the show, I feel like it'd make sense for him to have worked at the DWMA in the past the same way he worked in Piltover in canon. Rewatching Stein's introduction to the cast made me think it's worth considering adding elements of his character to Viktor as well in this au, especially since his storyline later connects to Crona's. Also, ya know... the whole Frankenstein references both characters make.

So for right now, rather than being raised to be a weapon since birth like Crona, Viktor used to work at the academy but left, went missing or something of the sort. Like in canon, he could've known Singed as a kid and crossed paths with him again at that point but I'm still thinking about the details around their au dynamic beyond that. I can honestly see Singed as just a mad scientist like he is in canon/like Stein or a witch for the purposes of this au. It works either way for me right now.

I'm on the fence about whether or not Viktor has the level of wavelength control that Stein has because on the one hand, that'd just be cool and showcase a skill Viktor developed on his own that reflects his inventiveness. On the other hand, Stein's skill is set up to later be used as the best tool to combat Crona with at the time of their introduction after they overpower Maka and Soul. So I'd either not give him that skill or have him teach that to someone else/have someone else (maybe Sky as another genius from Zaun) figure that technique out on their own and, like in the show, use it against Viktor.

I can also see Mel, given her canon powers, having pretty good wavelength control as well. Since she's set up to be the silver bullet against Viktor, it would make sense for her to have a skill like that at hand to combat him. It could also be another cool parallel to have between them/show their similarities by having honed a similar skill.

There's room for some fun ot3 drama by having Viktor and Jayce once being meister and weapon partners before or simultaneously with Mel and Jayce. I like the idea of Jayce, working in the forge, being pretty versatile in what form he takes as a weapon like Tsubaki. Idk if he can match up with just about any meister the same way Stein can match up with just about any weapon but, Jayce would at the very least be compatible with both Mel and Viktor.

As for the black blood plotline, it made sense to connect that to shimmer somehow, which @xxxregulusblackxxx also pointed out/suggested (thank you for the comment :>, I appreciated it). I kind of wanna rewatch some more before I bring up more ideas around that but I will say that remembering the demon guy Soul starts seeing after his injury gave me the hilarious image of Jayce seeing Heimderinger in a dreamscape so there's that 😂🤦🏾‍♀️

Like I can't unsee this lol

But yeah, that's it for now. This post is already kinda long. I'll probably make a separate post for my thoughts on what arcane characters would be weapons, meisters, witches, etc.. I'll try and post that in the next few days. But if you read all of this, thanks for listening ;)

[humorisstoredinthetits]

The Heathers+Veronica play D&D

What a surprise, another random AU that I came up with

So one day the gang is hanging out and JD mentions that he wants to play D&D with them and he thinks it would be fun

Everyone but Chandler is all for it while she, like usual, is being a bitch about it

'Its a nerd game and I'm not a nerd' and 'It sounds boring'

Eventually Mac uses her puppy-dog eyes which makes Chandler relent and agree to play the stupid nerd game

JD DMs while The Heathers, Veronica, Betty and Martha play

He's the kind of DM that goes all out, spending untold amounts of money on minis and other kinds of shit

Eventually the day arrives where they start playing

They enter the room and holy shit JD decked the place out

He put blackout curtains on all the windows and turned the lights off so the room is pitch black besides the candlelight of a chandelier he hung on the ceiling

He put a fancy looking blood red tablecloth over the table

At each seat there is a set of dice in each person's assigned color (The obvious for the Heathers and Veronica, Pink for Martha and Purple for Betty)

They aren't the cheap plastic ones no, they are the metal ones that are as sharp as a knife

JD himself is wearing a gray cloak that covers his face

They sit down and JD begins the campaign

The premise is simple, they are students at a magical academy where a series of murders has happened recently, and they have decided to take it upon themselves to investigate it

However, there is a twist

One of them is the murderer, and it is their job to make it to the end of the school year and graduate, thereby being able to flee the investigation and live freely

Of course, they don't know that the killer is one of them, except for the one who was assigned the role

He starts by going over each of the player's characters

Betty drew a picture of everyone's characters to get an idea of what they all look like and she shows off the picture when they introduce themselves

The Heathers are all named Hecate bc of course they had to have the same name in D&D too

There's Hecate Carnation, Hecate Dahlia, and Hecate Magnolia

(Their last names are all different kinds of flowers bc their actual name, Heather, is a type of flower so they thought it would fit)

HC is a Sorcerer who comes from a long line of powerful magic users and came to the academy like her parents and grandparents before her to hone her skills

She looks pretty much like what she looks like IRL and she acts like how she did in High School, acting superior to everyone bc she thinks she is

She thinks that solving this simple Murder Mystery case won't be a problem for someone as talented as her

So basically she's Claire from I'm In Love with the Villainess

HD is a Wizard (Or Witch ig, the class name is Wizard but she's a girl sooo) who came to the academy to learn the Wizarding arts from the talented professors the academy employs

HD also looks like IRL Duke, but much taller and with longer sleek hair compared to Duke's short curly hair

HD acts as the check to HC's id, being the ego and the one who can rationally look at a situation and make the best course of action from there

She's not very good with emotions, however, and can struggle to act appropriately in emotional situations

HM is a Druid who hopes to get some hands-on experience with the Druidic Work while studying

She is the superego to the other two's id and ego, the one who can look at a situation with both emotion and logic and determine the best course of action from there

She also looks generally like IRL Mac, but she has light brown hair compared to blonde and is a bit less muscular and more well endowed in certain areas

The Hecates joined the investigation as they are obviously the most capable of doing so, and as such they have a responsibility to be apart of it

Veronica is Vadina Siannodel, a High Elf Cleric

She picked Cleric bc she just knew that the Heathers were gonna do some dumbass shit and she was gonna need to bail them out with her healing

She is also the only one of them to pick a non human race

She joked Duke should pick a dwarf bc she's so short and Duke elbowed her in the stomach

She looks kinda like Frieren from that anime (She watched it with Duke around the time JD said he wanted to play so it influenced a lot of her character choices)

Vadina is a model student, the one who always aces her exams and does everything she can to help those at the academy to prove those who didn't want her there wrong

The academy is generally only open to humans and other races, especially half-elves and other mixed races, are looked down upon and by and large not accepted to it

But, because of Vadina's overwhelming academic talent she was admitted despite the prejudice at the academy

But with the murders occurring, many suspect the non-human students of being the murderer, especially Vadina, who many assume to be behind the attacks as an attempt to off her academic competition, and so she joined the investigation to prove her innocence

Martha is Megara Deepcrest, the Warlock, who made a deal with the demon Jami for power in exchange for the occasional sacrifice (animal, not human)

While everyone assumes that she is the one who did it, she knows that it wasn't her bc her patron desires the blood of fauna, not humanoids, and this school ain't big enough for two Warlocks

Everyone is just kinda stunned bc they assumed she would be a Druid or something but they did not expect Martha the Warlock who sacrifices animals in elaborate rituals every full moon to maintain her power

She looks nothing like Martha, she is a tall, lanky figure who wears a cloak which covers all but her hands, which reveal an elaborate tattoo on each palm and her fingers are covered with rings with unknown gemstones in the center

She is not in the uniform of the academy but all the professors are too scared of her to say anything

Finally Betty is Barnabas the Bard

Out of everyone Betty is taking this the least seriously, she heard the stereotype of bards seducing everyone and thought that was hilarious and decided to make her whole character around it

She put all of her stats into making sure that her seduction rolls would have the highest chance of being succesful

It kinda ruins the whole vibe JD had going on but whatever as long as she's happy

Her plan is to figure out who the murderer is then seduce them into not killing anymore

Once JD got all of their character descriptions he had to decide which of them is the murderer

He ruled out Martha immediately because it would be too obvious, he couldn't think of a motivation that would fit Betty's, and Veronica, while giving him a reason to pick her as the murderer, would probably have more fun trying to find them instead of being them

That left him with the Heathers, which works as they had created their characters together as a well-oiled machine, so by throwing a wrench into it he could make it more difficult

He settled on Mac bc he thought it would be unexpected, but then he realized that she is a terrible liar so he switched to Duke who agreed to be the murderer

Duke is smart enough to know how to cover her tracks and has that element of chaos that would make it more fun

HD's motivation is that the wizard track was overcrowded with students who weren't born with magical abilities and were forced to study, and it made it hard to stand out, so she eliminates other students, knowing that the school would turn their attention to the wizarding track, where she would be able to show them how talented she really is and hopefully be placed into higher-level classes

She also knows that even if the other three get suspicious, the other two Heathers would never suspect her and that infighting may allow her to get away with things

**Line break bc tumblr is dumblr**

So from there the campaign starts

They meet once a week, Wednesdays at 5:30 to 8:30 at JD's, Betty's and Martha's house in what became referred to as the D&D room

It starts with the group forming after the 3rd murder this month and an overview of all the evidence found so far

So far there had been 9 total murders over the school year

JD put a dossier on all of the students on the table and had all the players look over it

They quickly discovered that all 9 students had been in the Wizarding Track, but besides that they had little in common

They had a range of academic scores, came from a variety of different backgrounds and had varying social standings

The group came to the consensus that their culprit was probably in the Wizarding Track

They decide to then get a list of everyone currently enrolled in the Wizarding Track from the School Dean, to which Duke suggests that they also find anyone who used to be in the Wizarding Track as well

By doing that Duke hoped to increase the suspect pool and introduce the idea that it might not be someone directly in the Wizarding Track

They get the list from the Dean and in total there are 30 students in the Wizarding Track and 9 Former Students who transferred out

The group goes back to HC's dorm and they discuss the game plan

Vadina says that they need to eliminate suspects one by one and narrow down their options, which everyone agrees too

HC tries immediately eliminating HD form the list, arguing that if she was the killer she wouldn't be part of the investigation, but Vadina counters back that this could be a cover up and a chance for her to mislead them

Duke is sweating bullets and trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible but thankfully both Chandler and Mac stick up for her and even Betty and Martha think it would be unlikely that someone would join the investigation if they were the killer

That discussion stops when Chandler threatens to make Veronica sleep on the couch if she keeps accusing Duke so she backs off

From there, they spend each session looking into one or more of the suspects, interrogating them and comparing their testimonies against the evidence, and eliminating those from the list who could not possibly be the killer

Chandler rolls so many Nat 1s and she swears up and down that the dice are rigged (They totally are, JD and Duke both thought it would be funny to see her get mad over it when she didn't even wanna play in the first place)

Much to JD's horror, Betty's seduction strategy works more often than not and despite his attempts to put a stop to it, she always finds a way around them

JD (speaking as the NPC): "I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not attracted to women"

Betty: "Ya wanna bet?" Out of character "JD, If I roll a Nat 20 and add that with my +5 bonus can I still seduce him?"

JD (Done with her bs): "Sure why not"

Betty: rolls a nat 20

JD (Doing just fine he lied he's dying inside): "You all watch as Barnabas somehow seduces a gay guy, and as JD regrets all of his life choices"

It becomes Mac's mission to make as many animal friends as possible and to stop Martha from sacrificing animals to her demon overlord

Whenever they have to fight an enemy that is even remotely animalistic, Mac tries to roll for Animal Friendship and to make it her friend

Like one time they were fighting this Tabaxi (Cat person) and Mac tried to use Animal Friendship, arguing that even tho its humanoid its still a cat and therefore an animal

She ends up somehow becoming friends with an Owl Bear and she plans to use it to smell some cloth left by the killer and track the killer

Duke acts quickly by sending a quick text to JD while hiding her phone under the table so no one sees saying that she does something to agitate the Owl Bear, sending it into a frenzy which allows Duke to kill it, saving herself

When the party questions JD on that he says that somebody did something to anger the bear

Mac got pretty upset after this so after that session they all went out for ice cream

Over the course of the sessions Veronica becomes more and more suspicious of Duke but no one believes her despite the mounting evidence that points to her involvement

Sometimes at the start of sessions JD will add that another student died, sometimes just a random that they hadn't gotten too or one they had decided wasn't the killer, but sometimes it would be someone they heavily suspected, forcing them to question themselves further

Eventually they get who they think is the culprit and they are arrested and the group thinks they won, only for JD to start the epilogue where he says that because of all of the deaths that she caused, Hecate Dahlia was able to stand out more among her class, allowing for her to be placed in the upper classes and get a better job once leaving university, and that she lived the rest of her life guilt-free for both the murderers and the innocent person she condemned to death by framing them for the murders she committed

Veronica jumps out of her chair screaming that she knew it the whole time but the rest of them didn't believe it and that she was right and they were wrong

Mac, Betty and Martha look betrayed

Chandler storms out of the room and tells Duke that she's sleeping on the couch for a while

Meanwhile Duke and JD are just cackling about how they actually got away with it

Duke ends up sleeping on the couch for a month before Chandler lets her back in

Whenever someone brought it up Chandler would get pissy and they would say "But I thought you didn't wanna play the stupid nerd game Chan-Chan?" and she would only get more pissed off

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Waters

Summary: Layla knows your body well, almost too well, and she knows how to put on a show.

Pairing: Layla El-Faouly x f!Reader x Marc Spector

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: polyamory, smut (18+ only please), wlw, fingering, literally no plot here besties, (I would love to write for this pairing more)

A/N: Your honour my bi ass loves these two so fucking much. Also this is me trying to hone my smut writing skills, so please bear with me as I improve. Written to celebrate one year of Moon Knight!

I don't own photos or characters, divider from @firefly-graphics

Layla is making the sweetest sounds from underneath you, touching you in ways that drive you mad. 

Your hands are in her hair, as they have been thousands of times before. It’s the thousands of times that you hope will come that make your head dizzy. 

You’ve always been a little obsessed with her hair. 

It had been one of the first things you’d noticed about her. 

Her curls had been blowing in the wind, moving in a way that made you think they had a mind of their own. She had walked into the cafe, caught your eyes briefly and that had been the start of your infatuation with her. 

From the very beginning, you had wanted to touch them, to curl your fingers around them and watch them bounce into place. 

Now that you get the chance to touch, to curl, and do much more you snatch at it with greedy hands, tugging her hair when her head is buried between your thighs, when her mouth is against yours, stroking it softly when you’re both spent and sweaty and in each other’s arms. 

In a breath, you’re kissing her again, pushing your hips down into hers and getting her to open her mouth for your tongue. She whimpers as if she’s the one that turns into putty in your hands when the two of you are like this; you’re more than certain that if you stood up now, your legs would give out underneath you. 

Falling in love with the rest of her, had been just as simple, just as right as the way she had come over and sat down at your table and started to talk with you, offering to buy you a muffin and just as easy as the way the conversation had bled into dinner and ended the night with her lips against yours. 

Layla was beautiful in ways you were still learning about. Her voice, with the honeyed accent laced into it, the curve of her eyebrows, the slope of her shoulders and her golden skin with the freckles littered over her chest. Everyday you woke up and found something new about her that you’d obsess over. 

She had permeated into your system like a hazy cloud, an emulsion. An addiction you never wanted to quit because though it did take you apart, it also put you back together in the best of ways. 

You feel her reach under your shirt, to trace the outline of your spine and she hums happily. She comes to cup at your breast, moving her hand in ways that’s oddly reminiscent of the waves of the ocean. 

It’s just the way you liked it and the dynamic has started to show its true colours. 

In truth, Layla could get you to do close to anything with just a flick of her head. She held a shocking amount of power over you in her hands. 

Her other hand comes to mirror her movements, and you’re sure now that you’re dripping for her, lust wet between your thighs. Your soul is trembling with need but you don’t know for what, all you know is the rapidly growing desire for Layla to touch you more because if she doesn’t you’ll soon enough go out of your mind. 

As if she can hear your thoughts, her fingers start to trail down your stomach, a tantalising trail that both satiates and lights up your desire from the inside. 

“Layla…” your voice is drowning in desperation. 

“Baby…” even if she aims to imitate you, it’s an imitation. She has a remarkable control over herself during times like these, one you can only dream of having during your most clear-headed moments. 

The tips of her fingers are cool as they trace the line of your underwear, teasing you towards an edge she could send you hurdling over in minutes if she wanted to. 

But where would be the fun in that? 

Half of Layla’s pleasure comes from driving you out of your mind with lust and want. She makes a practice of laying you out underneath her and pressing your buttons to see how long it will take you to snap. To see how long she can practise her discipline and when she’ll snap too and make you see stars ten times over. 

She’ll kiss you and tease you until you're dripping down your thighs and into the bed below you but then she’ll always make up for it by fucking you good and solid afterwards. 

Layla had been the one to teach you what good sex meant, who lit up nerves in your body you’d doubted the existence of. 

With her, you’ve never felt more alive. 

You’re drawn out of your heady thoughts, already in anticipation of what’s to come after she’s had her fun with you, by the sound of your name dressed up in her voice. You realise too late that she’s asked you a question. 

Her hand comes to rest on the side of your neck, and she leans in, starting to press opiate-like kisses from the soft bit of skin behind your ear, moving down your neck, “Hm, sweetheart? What do you want?” 

“Touch me,” it’s a pathetic little whimper. Though you know what you want, mustering up the words to say it takes a herculean effort. As your relationship bloomed, Layla became an expert in making you scream. She knows your body better than you and makes it insanely difficult to speak. 

“Where?” her hand reaches back and grabs your ass possessively. You whimper and thrust forward, hunting for friction. She tsks when you don’t answer, pulling back and raising an eyebrow in warning. 

Instead of speaking, you show. Her other hand in yours, you guide her to your pussy, bring her fingers to your clit so she can get an idea of what you want and how wet she’s made you. 

Her eyes widen. 

If you were with another shame would be quick to lick up your back, have you pulling away and apologising. Layla had been quick to train you out of it. Falling into bed together is a delicate dance of give and take. She’s shown how much you want her and she shows how much she likes it in turn. 

But this time she’s not expected this much and this quickly. 

She starts to say your name when you cut her off, pressing her fingers forward against your core, making you moan out loud. With your free hand, you come to cup her breast, the comforting weight of it sitting heavily in your palm. 

You start to caress in the ways she likes it, both hands moving in tandem to bring the both of you pleasure. Her eyes flutter closed and flutter open just as quickly when you pinch her nipple, a gasp running out of her that makes another wave of arousal flood from your legs. 

The friction on your cunt having quickly gone from satisfying to the end of adequate, you cry out, at a wit’s end, “Layla, please.” There’s a fuzz of hunger around your mind. Words have evaded you, your lust for her so deep and driving that you ache for a release in your bone marrow. 

The press of her skin against yours and the heat of her gaze as she comes to recognise how little you’ll be able to manage to hold on for her is a salve, it could bring tears to your eyes. 

She helps you strip off your shirt, and almost immediately her hands are in your underwear.

She teases only slightly, enough to wet her fingers and drive you just a little further up the wall. Though it doesn’t need it, she runs her hand through your folds to get it wet, and with an insistent press of her thumb against your clit, she slips two fingers inside you. 

It’s the wash of the cool ocean on a hot day and the suffocating smoke from a wood fire at the same time. It makes you cry out and Layla shushes you, “It’s ok, honey, it’s just one to take the edge off.”

She starts at a drunken pace, hitting the right areas at the right times. Though she may tease you to tears, when she does decide that she’s done, she gives you pleasure in spades. 

At the bottom of it all, she lives to spoil you. 

You’ve only been with one other partner that was like that, who saw your pleasure as their own. 

Your hands grapple around her neck and you bring her lips to you, opening your mouth and asking for what you want. As her fingers pull out of you, a delicious friction against your walls, a third one is slipped in the moment her tongue meets yours and makes your synapses tie themselves together. The sounds you’re letting out are unfamiliar to your own ears. 

With quick, expert movements she hurdles you towards the edge, swallowing your moans as if they could sustain her if you let her do this long enough to you. Your hands travel from her neck and into her curls, a rock in turbulent waters threatening to take you under. 

There’s static in your ears, the only thing you can truly hear being the hammering of your heart, the hurried movements of your blood in your veins turning into riptides. 

It’s why you hadn’t heard the lock turning and the soft footsteps that approached you two. 

Layla breaks away from your kiss, her fingers incessant in their rhythm, her thumb having moved only to allow the base of her palm to take its place. You’re about to ask her what’s happened, if you can muster the words when a roughened hand takes you by the jaw. 

You’re met with the dark gaze of Marc, his eyebrow raised as he struggles to catch his breath at the sight of you. From the looks of him, he’s been watching for a lot longer than you’ve realised. 

You want to poke at him with funny questions, ask him why he didn’t want to join, but you’re too far gone, Layla’s free hand having returned to your chest making you feel like an instrument. 

Marc leans closer into you, the tip of his nose grazing against yours, and before he kisses you he whispers, “Come, baby.” 

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought of it and if you'd like to see more of these three, it means the world to me! Masterlist here.

(I've decided to discontinue tags for my own sanity.)

[sad-endings-suck]

Blue Eye Samurai: regarding Mizu’s “plot armour” or her “ridiculously over-powered” abilities.

“Mizu is way too overpowered, it doesn’t make sense.”

I feel like a lot of people don’t realize just how much the mind over matter mentality plays a roll in Mizu’s “abilities”. Mizu isn’t the best because she’s physically the strongest, or had the best training, or the most experience, or whatever. Mizu is the best because she has single-minded focus and immense tenacity that borders on psychotic due to how intensely dedicated to revenge she has been for almost all of her life. All the years she spent training, all the time she spends taking out enemies, she is being driven by single minded focus and iron willed determination that never wavers. She has been sharpening and honing not just her body, but her mind, for exactly this. She has dedicated her entire life to her quest for vengeance, and in her own words, there is no room in it for anything else.

People also seem to be making a lot of assumptions about what kind of training and how much training Mizu has or has not had. As the audience, we’ve only been shown bits and pieces of Mizu’s past, which includes her experience learning martial arts. Asking shit like “how is she so good with a sword if she’s only self taught?” is like asking “how can she read and write if Master Eiji is blind?”. The answer is that Mizu has obviously learnt these things from more than one source, but documenting her entire education in detail doesn’t exactly serve a purpose to the narrative. We are explicitly shown in one of Mizu’s flashbacks that she’s been practicing with a wooden sparring sword since she was very young. It’s actually her child self that we see in that brief particular flashback. Not her teen/tween self, her child self. She’s also following the movements and instructions of an older man that is clearly a skilled samurai or warrior of some kind based on context (which y’all love to ignore). Besides, who else would want/need a sword from a master sword-maker besides an expert swordsman? How many skilled fighters from all over Japan have come to Master Eiji’s forge hoping for a blade, and wait with nothing better to do but train while their blade is being made? How many of them have divulged information about certain fighting styles (like Shindo-Ryu, which Mizu was familiar with despite never having been to the dojo before). Or practiced around her and with her? We are clearly shown through Mizu’s flashbacks that receiving training from a visiting client has not been unusual for her throughout her apprenticeship with Master Eiji, and her little spar with Blood Soaked Chiaki was no one time event. Yet Mizu is never given the benefit of the doubt by the audience, despite context clues indicating that she should be.

“Taigen has way more training in an actual dojo, so why is Mizu better?”

Whereas Taigen, while he was determined to become more than just a fisherman’s son and was driven to rise through the ranks of the Dojo and become a skilled samurai, did not have that same desire or determination to hone every part of himself to be the most deadly weapon he could possibly be, like Mizu did. Taigen believes in the samurai code of honor and upholds it in his own way (preventing him from learning how to “fight dirty” so to speak) and he also had a life outside of his training (he had a social life, he drank, he partied, he snuck around a lot to see Akemi presumably, etc). In fact, we actually never see Taigen practice, train, learn, hone his skills, or anything (to my recollection) throughout the whole season, until he’s bested by Mizu in combat. I’m assuming Taigen had to work quite hard for several years to become as good as he is, but I get the sense that ever since he has been regarded as a prodigy he has allowed himself to get cocky and maybe a bit too comfortable. He has always been the best and always thought himself to be the best, so he never needed to give 150% effort when he fought. In fact, as he got older and more practiced, and it became more and more apparent how much better he was than everyone else, he probably stopped giving his 110% and allowed himself to get a bit comfortable putting in 100% effort, and then eventually 80% effort (which is part of the reason why I think he’s so pissed he lost to Mizu in their first fight, because he knows he could have done better: been less cocky, been more tactical, more driven, etc).

We also never see Taigen meditate or mentally or physically prepare himself the way we do with Mizu. Mizu will pray before a major upcoming battle, not because she’s religious, but because she’s mentally, emotionally, and spiritually preparing herself. We even see Mizu submerge herself in very cold ocean water (during the winter mind you) as a ritual/practice of sorts that serves to center herself and prepare mentally and physically for what’s ahead when she feels herself getting “too emotional” or too stressed or unfocused or even just slightly off kilter. Mizu sacrifices every part of her life, so that she can be the deadliest version of herself possible. She has no social life. She has no friends, or significant others (Mikio aside). She has no other activities to participate in, because she’s been completely alienated and thus being anything but the best is not an option in her mind because she has no options. She tried married life. She had the best possible life that she could have had as a biracial woman in Edo era Japan. She did as she was told by her “mother”. She showed her true self to Mikio, just as he desired. Yet the blood and vengeance still caught up with her. She has no other options anymore. Pursuing revenge is the only thing she knows how to do, because every other avenue in life has been cut off from her. So she has to be single-mindedly focused on her vengeance, which means being as skilled and as dangerous as she can possibly be. She has no hobbies or jobs or responsibilities beyond sword-making (which allows her to become as familiar with the blade as possible) and training herself. If she has extra time, she uses it to practice, to train, to improve, to simply maintain peak performance. Such as when she was hacking through those trees in episode 2. Afterwards, we see Taigen attempt to replicate her training (by cutting down trees with his sword). Though even then, it was more about curiosity and trying to suss out Mizu so he could gauge her skill level, then it was about actually honing his own abilities (until episode 3 when he practices with Chiaki’s broken blade). Which does count as training in its own way (assessing your enemy), but my point still stands. Taigen does not have the same unwavering focus and force of will that Mizu does (partially because he does not actually want to kill Mizu, as we do see Taigen go cold blooded with focus when he kills Heiji Shindo, but those are whole other discussions).

“Mizu just has ridiculous plot armour, that’s the real reason she survives every encounter.”

I feel like people that think Mizu has ridiculous plot armour are just not at all familiar with the Samurai or Western/Cowboy sub-genres at all, or even action as an overarching genre on its own. I don’t believe I have ever engaged in a single piece of action media in which the protagonist didn’t have “plot armour��� in some way. Basically half of all male protagonists from any and all modern western action movies ever, have been way too over-powered and been able to take a ridiculous amount of damage that should have killed them multiple times over. These action heroes (who in western media are almost always cis-het white men) have ridiculous plot armour in the most classic sense. Yet no one complains when it’s a white man. Only when it’s a queer-coded biracial woman of colour. Shocking.

In fact, you could argue that every main character in every fictional story ever told has plot armour to a certain degree, because having an entire narrative revolve around one character is inherently “unrealistic” and therefore the main character has plot armour, yes? No? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Oh, and on the topic of the samurai genre specifically (and many martial arts based action media) there are certain genre specific tropes that are nearly integral to the genre. One of the most prominent being the samurai/ronin/warrior/martial arts master that is “ridiculously over powered”. It’s literally part of the genre. In fact, the western/cowboy genre is quite similar to the classic samurai genre. Now, how many westerns have you watched in which Clint Eastwood or John Wayne shoot 5+ guys with one pistol before any of the guys they shoot even get a shot off? A lot I bet. Is that not the definition of “over-powered” and “unrealistic”? Or is it just a genre trope, or even perhaps, a genre staple? No one thinks Arthur Morgan (Red Dead Redemption 2) is over-powered. No one thinks that Joel (The Last of Us) is over-powered. In fact, when the TLOU show came out, people actually complained that Joel, the fifty-something year old man that has been living in a post apocalyptic wasteland for 20 years, was not badass or strong enough (he kills dozens of humans and super zombies and he’s legally a senior). So, who is the “judge” of what is and is not realistic in action media that borders on sci-fi/fantasy based on how “over-powered” the protagonists “realistically” are?

“It’s just weird that Mizu is so powerful when other characters within the story are not. It makes Mizu such a Mary Sue.”

Okay… so, with all that in mind, let’s circle back to where I started when referring to Mizu as someone driven by unwavering determination, and how that affects her “abilities”. That facet of her personality and motivation is nothing new when it comes to the action genre, especially for protagonists of revenge storylines. Think of Kill Bill or John Wick. Why does John or the Bride keep going and keep winning even when they are constantly getting injured and always fighting. Is it because they are simply that much better than everyone else? Yes and no. No, because they are not superheroes (technically), but also yes. Because their single minded determination and need for revenge drives them to push that much harder than anyone else on their skill level. They are the best, but they win against everyone else that is also “the best” because they want it more. They need it more. Mind over matter. They are willing to endure what others are not through sheer will and pure cold rage. Mizu, Beatrice Kiddo, John Wick, and so many more similar protagonists in action-revenge narratives don’t keep winning and keep getting back up no matter how inured they get because they are just “that much stronger and more talented than everyone else”. Yes, they are extremely skilled and would probably be one of the strongest and most deadly combatants/killers in their respective universes regardless… but their refined skill and raw talent and power are not the only reason they win. Their unwavering force of will, extreme determination, ice cold fury, and single-minded focus on revenge is what drive them to be that much tougher. Their tenacity is their superpower. They want to win more than their opponent does. They need to win, because this is their one and only goal in life as of now. Mizu (Blue Eye Samurai) Beatrice (Kill Bill), John (John Wick), they all share a philosophy in life when it comes to their revenge, which basically boils down to “Either I kill you, or I die trying. There is no middle ground, there is no negotiating, no other choice, no path of least resistance, no other goal or motivation. You will die, because I ain’t fucking dying until you do.”

Mizu doesn’t have plot armour and she’s not over-powered. She is an archetypical protagonist of the action-revenge narrative and the samurai/western genre as well. She arguably even has better reason to be completing the feats that she does than John Wick or The Bride, because the medium of Blue Eye Samurai is animation and not live action, and the genre borders on magical realism far more than Kill Bill or John Wick. Now, how many anime protagonists (probably almost all male) can you think of that are “ridiculously over-powered” especially compared to any live action counterparts, but no one complains about it? Why does no one complain about it (aside from misogyny)? Because the medium of animation inherently has different “rules”, expectations, and set standards for suspension of disbelief, than the medium of live action film or television. For example, is it ridiculous and unrealistic when you’re watching a Looney Tunes cartoon and Bugs Bunny’s legs pinwheel in super-speed for 3 seconds straight before he starts running, or when he runs off a ledge and gravity just lets him hang there for a sec so he can look straight at the camera before he falls? No, it’s not “unrealistic” or emersion breaking, not even a little, but why? Is it because any of those things seem even remotely probable or “realistic”? Of course not! It’s perfectly acceptable because the medium, genre, target audience, atmosphere, art/animation style, narrative choice, storytelling style, and more, have all established that Bugs Bunny defying physics is normal in Looney Tunes, and therefore not a “plot-hole” or “unrealistic”. In fact, if Bugs Bunny or Tom and Jerry didn’t defy physics in ridiculous ways all the time, then it feels far stranger and off-beat than if they did. Same goes for pretty much all action anime. If the characters in those stories were strictly limited to what is 100% humanly possible in real life, most of those animes wouldn’t even have storylines anymore. They’d be turned into completely different content that may be unrecognizable from the original source material. Or wouldn’t even have any material anymore because all the characters would be dead after their first fight scene. So why is Blue Eye Samurai being held to a different standard?

Now, do y’all get it yet?