#swords x sorcery

[peppermintpuffs]

Mylo/Gale - Crazy For U by Big Time Rush

(Could make a playlist for them that would be mostly filled with BTR tbh)

Kava/Gale - E.T. by Katy Perry

(My Durge run :^) thought this was a funny choice if seen as the song being Gale’s pov lol)

Fuck it we cringeposting.

Tell me:

Pulling from the playlist from your childhood where you imagined AMVs of your favorite pairings, what “cringe/basic/goofy/maybeOOC” song would you use for your Tav x NPC/Companion ship.

I’ll go first:

Rackal/Rolan— Untouched by the Veronicas (because one of us had to take the fucking bullet for this one)

[katiajewelbox]

Although it's late by two days, Happy 24th Anniversary to the Escaflowne the Movie: A Girl in Gaea! This action-adventure anime film with breathtaking animation hit Japanese movie theatres on June 24th, 2000 and later appeared in cinemas in Europe in 2001 and in North America in 2002.

Here is a selection of official promotional art for the movie found on the online art gallery Minitokyo.

In my opinion, the story and characters are not nearly as engaging in the movie version but the animation is amazing. I also like the character designs and the earthy sword and sorcery aesthetics with an apparently Central Asian and Japanese cultural flavour. What's your opinion of the Escaflowne movie?

[retroillustrates]

Jungle

Under cut lineart and b&w

[jerseyartblog]

Keishin watched from the corner of his eye for a moment longer before he let out a sigh and rested his forearms on the edge of the table.  He lowered his gaze and began digging into his stew, finally tasting meat and potatoes like he’d wanted to all evening.

“Mm!”

Keishin glanced up to find Specs shoving another enthusiastic bite into his mouth.

“Mm! So good!”

“Er…” Keishin hesitated. “Yeah… I mean, they do all right, I guess…”

;) @flyingjemsaucer has updated Wild Whisper's Waning! We're tackling some pretty standard fantasy fare with you know--stew and meat and potatoes--but Specs REALLY seems to like it! (And of course, there's something more exciting lurking around the corner)

Read Wild Whisper's Waning on AO3

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Ranni and the Tarnished's Children

So, I've been replaying Elden Ring, getting hyped for Shadow of the Erdtree, so I wanted to imagine what children Ranni and the Tarnished might have. If you believe they're physically incapable then just imagine they magicked them up with God-Powers or something.

ONTO THE KIDS!

-

-

Blaiddyd (pronounced: Bly-thid) (Translated: Wolf Lord).

Named for his uncle Blaidd the Half Wolf, Blaiddyd is the eldest Demigod child of Ranni and her Consort. Tall and blonde, he actually takes after his uncle Radahn quite a bit, being loud, friendly, and boisterous. In Build terms, he's an STR/Faith build, drawing on his faith in his parents rather than in any of the Gods like the Golden Order.

Blaiddyd has an intensely protective streak for his younger siblings and is generally an outgoing and friendly guy. But he does have a wolf's temper and can be a devil in the battlefield, entering something like a Berserker rage.

Blaiddyd fights with the Claymore and his Incantations, especially the Black Flame incantations of the Godskins using the Godslayer's Seal. Both his parents are a bit concerned about his interest in those arts. However, in serious situations, he uses the Sacred Relic Sword, entrusted to him by his parents as a show of trust and faith.

-

Rhiannon (pronounced: Ree-anne-on) (translated: Great Queen)

Named for her grandmother, Rennala of the Full Moon, Rhiannon is actually one of a set of twins. A quiet and reserved girl with pale skin and the red hair of her mother's true form, Rhiannon prefers her actions to speak over her words. She's a DEX/Faith build, relying on speed and incantations and her faith in her family to see her through.

While naturally taciturn, she is actually quite shy as well, and has a hard time speaking to other. She is a Demigod, like Blaiddyd, and often proves the more level headed one when she commands on the battlefield with her brother.

Rhiannon prefers spears and knives in combat, using Incantations only to bolster her already remarkable agility and dexterity. She prefers the Cross-Naginata if she had to choose, and also uses the Dragon Communion Seal as those are the incantations she prefers to use and is renown as something of a Dragon Hunter for it. But in dire circumstances she uses the Bolt of Gransax.

-

Idris (translated: Ardent Lord)

Named for his uncle Iji, Idris is a brilliant scholar of a Demigod, spending most of his time perusing ancient texts and tomes, seeking new and fascinating magics. He is the twin of Rhiannon, though his sister feels more kinship with Blaiddyd than Idris, though that suits him fine, as Idris enjoys his solitude.

A tall and lean brunette, Idris is fascinated by magic, especially Death Sorceries, and retains a frustration at his mother for her refusal to allow him to study the Rune of Death to further his research in the field, though he secretly relishes the challenge of working without it.

While not much of a fighter, Idris uses his grandmother's Regal Scepter for his casting, and a Carian Crystal Dagger is her really must get dirty with it.

-

Mairwen (translated: Blessed Love)

Mairwen, named for the Kindling Maiden Melina who guided her father on his journey, Mairwen is not a Demigod.

She is an Empyrean. A candidate for Godhood. Her mother's heir.

Mairwen is an albino with white hair and eyes, and almost completely mute, save whispering to her parents and siblings when she feels she has something important to say. She's the youngest of the family, and yet perhaps the most powerful, as befitting a God in Bud. Her scarlet pure white eyes see to see everything and nothing at once.

Mairwen is a master of Faith and Intelligence, using sorcery and incantations in equal measure using Azur's Glintstone Staff and the Erdtree Seal, given to her by her father after a secret conversation. But should the occasion call for it, she unleashes the Sword of Night and Flame, and shows her foes true terror.

[charlythelee]

Slightly belated pinch hit for the HQ Fantasy BigBang — have some MatsuHana angst and please check out the fic, the AU and world building are lovely ☺️💕

⇢ Read "Bard Without a Song" on Ao3 by @savannahlovena (Beta by Alaina) ⇢ Akaashi Art

[evilhorse]

Men like this don’t work that way.

(X-O Manowar #18)

[famousnerdtragedy]

The Blade of Aeryn: Witch of Storm and Steel

In the land of Aeldoria, where dragons once ruled the skies and the seas whispered ancient secrets, there existed a realm torn between the forces of steel and magic. Kingdoms fell and rose under the weight of sorcery and the clash of swords, but none could foresee the rise of a warrior who embodied both.

Chapter 1: The Marked One

Aeryn stood at the edge of the cliffs of Valtoria, her eyes scanning the dark, storm-laden horizon. The sea roared beneath her, waves crashing against the rocks like an angry beast. She had always been drawn to the storm—its chaos mirrored something deep within her. A gust of wind swept through her wild raven-black hair, and she grasped the hilt of her sword, Stormcaller, which hummed faintly with an energy only she could command.

Aeryn was no ordinary warrior. Her lineage was steeped in magic, though she had sworn to master the blade before she ever embraced her sorcery. Her mother had been a renowned witch, wielding the elemental forces of nature, while her father was a general, known throughout Aeldoria for his unmatched swordsmanship. From them, she inherited both skill and power, but with it, a burden she never asked for.

Across her back ran a scar—a mark left by a creature not of this world, a shadow-beast that had descended upon her village years ago. She had survived, but the mark was more than just a wound. It bound her to ancient magic, to a prophecy whispered by witches and sages alike: "The Marked One will rise, where steel meets storm, and the world will bow to her power or burn in her wrath."

Aeryn never cared for prophecies.

The wind howled louder, and in the distance, she could see ships approaching—black sails. Pirates, raiders from the islands of Skorn, known for their cruelty and their insatiable hunger for plunder. Her village, perched upon the cliffs, was in danger.

"Let them come," she muttered, her eyes flashing with resolve.

With a flick of her wrist, the air around her stirred. The sky, already dark, grew darker still, as clouds thickened, responding to her command. Lightning crackled in the distance, and the sea began to churn more violently. Stormcaller pulsed in her hand, eager for battle.

Aeryn turned from the cliff and sprinted back toward her village. The time for peace had passed.

Chapter 2: The Siege of Valtoria

The village of Valtoria was small, a humble place where fishermen and traders lived in quiet. But tonight, it would be a battlefield.

As Aeryn arrived at the gates, she saw the villagers preparing for the attack. The village elder, a wiry man named Vorel, was barking orders, his face pale with fear. The wooden gates were being reinforced, but they would not hold for long.

"Aeryn!" Vorel called as she approached. "The Skorn have returned. They mean to raze the village this time."

"Not if I can help it," she said, her voice calm but laced with steel.

"Your magic—"

"I will use it when the time is right."

Vorel nodded, trusting her as he had always done. She had defended this village many times before, but never had the threat been this great. The Skorn were ruthless, and their numbers had grown.

The first of the enemy ships docked, and the pirates spilled out onto the shore like a dark tide. Their leader, a hulking brute named Kordak the Bloodhand, led them with a savage grin. His right hand was a mass of scars, stained with the blood of those he had slain. He wielded a massive battle-axe, its sharp edge glinting in the flickering torchlight.

"Bring me the Witch of Valtoria!" Kordak roared, his voice cutting through the wind. "I've heard of her power, and I intend to claim her head for my collection."

Aeryn stepped forward, her sword unsheathed. "You'll have to take it from my corpse," she said, her voice as cold as the storm brewing above.

Kordak laughed, a deep, guttural sound. "That can be arranged."

With a nod, his men surged forward, and the battle began.

Aeryn moved like a tempest, her sword flashing through the air as she cut down the first wave of pirates. Her training was impeccable, each strike precise and lethal. But as more enemies poured in, she knew steel alone would not win this fight.

She stepped back, raising her free hand. The air crackled with energy as she whispered an incantation under her breath. The clouds above twisted, and a bolt of lightning shot down, striking the earth before her, sending pirates flying. The power coursed through her veins, exhilarating and dangerous.

But magic came at a cost. Too much, and it would consume her.

She could feel it pulling at her, like a riptide beneath the surface of her mind. But she pushed it back, focusing on the fight. Aeryn danced between her enemies, calling down lightning and slashing with her sword, her movements a deadly combination of sorcery and skill.

Kordak watched from the rear, his grin fading as he saw his men fall. He raised his axe, roaring in fury, and charged at her, cleaving through his own men to reach her.

Aeryn turned just in time to meet his strike. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through the ground, but she stood firm, her sword locked against his axe.

"You think your magic makes you strong?" Kordak sneered, pressing his weight against her. "But I’ve killed witches before."

Aeryn’s eyes flashed with lightning. "Not like me."

With a sudden burst of energy, she pushed him back, raising her hand toward the sky. The storm answered her call. A massive bolt of lightning struck Kordak, enveloping him in searing light. He screamed, dropping to his knees as the energy coursed through him, his axe falling from his grasp.

But Aeryn wasn’t finished. She raised Stormcaller, and with a swift, final strike, severed Kordak’s head from his shoulders.

The pirates, seeing their leader fall, fled in terror, leaving the village of Valtoria behind.

Chapter 3: The Awakening

The battle was over, but Aeryn knew it was only the beginning. The mark on her back pulsed, reminding her of the power she had yet to fully understand—and the prophecy she could no longer ignore.

That night, as the village celebrated their victory, Aeryn stood alone by the cliffs, her eyes on the horizon. She had protected her home, but the storm within her was growing stronger. The magic she wielded was ancient, dangerous, and she feared what would happen if she lost control.

But destiny was not something she could outrun. The mark was a beacon, calling out to forces she could not yet comprehend. And somewhere, beyond the sea, something stirred in response.

The storm was far from over.

[athelind]

As someone who started with Holmes Basic, this is all 100% accurate.

People say, "oh, you're an old school gamer," and make THAC0 jokes to me ... and I just kind of look blankly at them, because THAC0 wasn't MY D&D. I played AD&D1, but AD&D2 largely passed me by.

(I am pretty sure that the first printings of AD&D2 didn't use the THAC0 abbreviation, even though it used essentially the same mechanic. I'm working from 35-year-old memories here, though, so forgive me if I'm wrong.)

I spent the '90s playing other systems like Champions, GURPS, World of Darkness, and whatever oddball indy game my gaming group thought might be interesting. My social circle treated (A)D&D as the "gateway game" for newbies, but "experienced" gamers looked for something more "sophisticated".

As hard as it is to believe in this day and age, where D&D has a Chrome-like stranglehold on the market, that was not an unusual attitude in the pre-OGL days. It was not unlike the online gamer culture that dismissed some popular computer and console games as being for "casuals".

Three or four decades down the road, that seems both condescending and naïve.

Having subjected myself to pre-WotC editions of D&D has robbed me of the ability to appreciate a lot of D&D humor contingent on "wow things were weird in the old days" because people will sometimes just get their references wrong and the anachronism doesn't actually elevate the humor for me. Like, if someone's trying to make a point about how weird old-school D&D was by saying something like "You know how Dwarf and Elf were classes in first edition?" while I do agree that it's funny when Dwarf and Elf are classes (and it also rules) I'm now more concerned about the fact that this statement is not true of any version of D&D that could be reasonably called "first edition." Or when someone makes a reference to THAC0 in the context of the three little brown books edition: THAC0 as a concept didn't even exist back then. Heck, the attack matrixes didn't even account for armor classes lower than 2. I know you're making a joke about how weird the old editions were but this is not the THAC0 edition. In this context you'd be better off talking about how this game relies on Chainmail for its combat system and the more well-known "roll d20 and try to hit a number depending on your character's level and the enemy's Armor Class" was an alternative system should the players not have access to Chainmail.

[prokopetz]

On the one hand, it's true that the way Dungeons & Dragons defines terms like "sorcerer" and "warlock" and "wizard" is really only relevant to Dungeons & Dragons and its associated media – indeed, how these terms are used isn't even consistent between editions of D&D! – and trying to apply them in other contexts is rarely productive.

On the other hand, it's not true that these sorts of fine-grained taxonomies of types of magic are strictly a D&D-ism and never occur elsewhere. That folks make this argument is typically a symptom of being unfamiliar with Dungeons & Dragons' source material. D&D's main inspirations are American literary sword and sorcery fantasy spanning roughly the 1930s through the early 1980s, and fine-grained taxonomies of magic users absolutely do appear in these sources; they just aren't anything like as consistent as the folks who try to cram everything into the sorcerer/warlock/wizard model would prefer.

For example, in Lyndon Hardy's "Five Magics" series, the five types of magical practitioners are:

Alchemists: Drawing forth the hidden virtues of common materials to craft magic potions; limited by the fact that the outcomes of their formulas are partially random.

Magicians: Crafting enchanted items through complex manufacturing procedures; limited by the fact that each step in the procedure must be performed perfectly with no margin for error.

Sorcerers: Speaking verbal formulas to basically hack other people's minds, permitting illusion-craft and mind control; limited by the fact that the exercise of their art eventually kills them.

Thaumaturges: Shaping matter by manipulating miniature models; limited by the need to draw on outside sources like fires or flywheels to make up the resulting kinetic energy deficit.

Wizards: Summoning and binding demons from other dimensions; limited by the fact that the binding ritual exposes them to mental domination by the summoned demon if their will is weak.

"Warlock", meanwhile, isn't a type of practitioner, but does appear as pejorative term for a wizard who's lost a contest of wills with one of their own summoned demons.

Conversely, Lawrence Watt-Evans' "Legends of Ethshar" series includes such types of magic-users as:

Sorcerers: Channelling power through metal talismans to produce fixed effects; in the time of the novels, talisman-craft is largely a lost art, and most sorcerers use found or inherited talismans.

Theurges: Summoning gods; the setting's gods have no interest in human worship, but are bound not to interfere in the mortal world unless summoned, and are thus amenable to cutting deals.

Warlocks: Wielding X-Men style psychokinesis by virtue of their attunement to the telepathic whispers emanating from the wreckage of a crashed alien starship. (They're the edgy ones!)

Witches: Producing improvisational effects mostly related to healing, telepathy, precognition, and minor telekinesis by drawing on their own internal energy.

Wizards: Drawing down the infinite power of Chaos and shaping it with complex rituals. Basically D&D wizards, albeit with a much greater propensity for exploding.

You'll note that both taxonomies include something called a "sorcerer", something called a "warlock", and something called a "wizard", but what those terms mean in their respective contexts agrees neither with the Dungeons & Dragons definitions, nor with each other.

(Admittedly, these examples are from the 1980s, and are thus not free of D&D's influence; I picked them because they both happened to use all three of the terms in question in ways that are at odds with how D&D uses them. You can find similar taxonomies of magic use in earlier works, but I would have had to use many more examples to offer multiple competing definitions of each of "sorcerer", "warlock" and "wizard", and this post is already long enough!)

So basically what I'm saying is giving people a hard time about using these terms "wrong" – particularly if your objection is that they're not using them in a way that's congruent with however D&D's flavour of the week uses them – makes you a dick, but simply having this sort of taxonomy has a rich history within the genre. Wizard phylogeny is a time-honoured tradition!

[yanderenightmare]

FEM x M INSERT masterlist

Fem reader x male insert

Yandere and other Kidnapping Tales ~

Yandere kidnapper takes your virginty:

♡ VIRGINITY

Yandere captor has too much libido:

♡ REMINDER

Thirsty thoughts on big yanderes x tiny darlings:

♡ GENTLE GIANT

Yandere kidnapper softly nonconning darling:

♡ soft noncon

Yanderes who keep you high as a kite:

♡ HIGH AS A KITE

Yandere captor using you as his pretty rope-bunny:

♡ ROPE-BUNNY

Yanderes who's obsessed with breeding:

♡ FORCED BREEDING

Yanderes who're obsessed with pet play:

♡ PET PLAY

Spending Valentine's Day with your incel kidnapper:

♡ HAPPY VALENTINES

Yandere kidnapper is a sexual sadist:

♡ RIBBED CONDOMS

Yandere captor staking claim to all your holes:

♡ STUFFED

Misogynist boyfriend keeps you captive:

♡ A SHITTY MOVIE

Strange Yandere keeps you locked inside his playroom:

♡ THE PLAYROOM

Your sweet boyfriend shows his true colors:

♡ TRUE COLORS

Your rich boyfriend buys you everything:

♡ PROPERTY

Poly yanderes with captive reader in apocolypse au:

♡ THE BUNKER ♡ STAYING

Witnessing your own mental state descend into Stockholm Syndrome:

♡ GONE MAD

Your trip-sitter isn't as trustworthy as you think:

♡ TRIP-SITTER

Awful nasty incel:

♡ drabble

The seven days of the week as yanderes:

♡ YANDERE DAYS

Boyfriends and Husbands~

Simpy boyfriend is unabashedly obsessed with your ass:

♡ ASS

Boyfriend is embarrassed:

♡ POST NUT CLARITY

Sweet boyfriend won't stop talking about anal:

♡ SECOND VIRGINITY

Snugglebug boyfriends who're just so clingy and hopeless:

♡ VIRGINAL

Your toxic boyfriend is a little old-fashioned-minded:

♡ BENEVOLENT SEXIST

Breaking up with you bad boyfriend:

♡ BAD BREAKUP

Condescending boyfriend:

♡ HOPELESS

Businessman x trophy wife:

♡ TASTE OF MONEY

Reformed bully boyfriend wants to roleplay the past:

♡ REFRAMING TRAUMA

You break up with your sorry-ass gamer boyfriend. He does not take it well:

♡ GAMER-RAGE

Rich husband owns everything you have:

♡ BARBIE

Sadistic and oversweet yandere boyfriend:

♡ PIECE OF CAKE

Incest and Pesudo-incest ~

Step-bro creeps on you:

♡ CREEP STEP-BRO

Step-daddy puts you in your place:

♡ TRAINING

Omegaverse and other Hybrid Tales ~

Pet collector buys bunny reader:

♡ BOUGHT & SOLD ♡ THE OTHER PETS

Beast boyfriend x human reader:

♡ INSTINCTS

Poly wolfboys x bunny reader:

♡ BUNNYHOLES ♡ GROOMING

You were certain you were an Alpha, but as it turns out...

♡ TWIST OF FATE

Hybrid bear yandere takes bunny darling captive:

♡ BUNNIES MAKE THE BEST SLUTS

You're sent to an omega institution for behavioral correcting:

♡ THE OMEGA INSTITUTION

Patronizing soft dom Alpha:

♡ OVERWHELMED

Behemoth dominant Omega x tiny Alpha reader:

♡ UNNATURAL ♡ part two

Alpha is dogshit at courting Omega reader:

♡ SWEATER WEATHER

You're a poor bunny hybrid sold off to an apex predator:

♡ PLAYBOY BUNNY ♡ CLIENTELE

Sword and Sorcery ~

Massive warrior claims you as his war prize:

♡ WAR PRIZE

Orc master loves making a cum-slut out of his pretty elf slave:

♡ ORC x ELF ♡ ORC x ELF

You become the spoiled prince's personal maid:

♡ FARM ANIMAL

Elf reader captured and gangbanged by orcs:

♡ THE PILLORY ♡ PART TWO

Cruel Emperor makes a harem out of all his bastard sons and daughters:

♡ HALFBLOODS

Set in medieval times, you get punished by the parish priest for gossiping:

♡ BRANK'S BRIDLE

Bullies and other College Tales ~

You let your bully fuck you in exchange for him leaving you alone:

♡ WORSE OFF

Your childhood bully tracks you down:

♡ APOLOGETIC BULLY only avaliable on AO3 ♡ PART TWO

When the playboy finally falls in love:

♡ PLAYBOY

Your strict teacher fucks your throat raw in detention:

♡ DETENTION

You're a popular airhead, and he's your loser tutor:

♡ BLIND TRUST

Teacher teaches you a hard lesson:

♡ HARD LESSON

Pretty reader x virgin loser boy:

♡ VIRGIN BOY

College boy struggles to acclimate to dorm life. Reader neighbour is not helping:

♡ LOOSE SCREWS

Boss-man and other Office Tales ~

Boss uses his assistant whenever he wants and however he wants:

♡ BOSS

The old-fashioned boss with intern reader:

♡ NEW INTERN

Colleague crushing on reader in office au:

♡ CUT TO THE CHASE

Loser colleague crushes on mean girl reader:

♡ ERRAND BOY

Miscellaneous ~

Reader owes the mob:

♡ PROPERTY

You're not cheap, but you're worth it:

♡ FAVORITE WHORE

You're not really a model, but the brash photographer doesn't care:

♡ PHOTOGRAPHER ♡ PART TWO

♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[katiajewelbox]

Images of the beautiful VHS box set of the complete 26 episode USA edition Vision of Escaflowne subbed anime series I used to own. The artwork by Nobuteru Yuki is so ethereal and elegant!

[assumptionprime]

YOU! YOU READING THIS! I HAVE A NEW ONGOING COMIC!

It's called Spell X Sword! It's a modern fantasy story about two women trying to make a living in a city where alligators do live in the sewers, except they're basilisks and someone posts a quest on an app asking adventurers to come kill them for a few bucks!

It's got swords and sorcery and subways and it will be gay!

Go to spellxsword.com and read it today!

[jerseyartblog]

Ukai is trying to live a simple life - but what happens when a stranger turns his plans upside down?

UkaTake secret identity, strangers to lovers.

;) I took part in the HQ Sword & Sorcery Big Bang this year and was paired with the amazing @flyingjemsaucer for this brilliant slow-burn, action-packed sword-and-board fic! Do you like gruff but caring swordsmen? Mysterious mages? A cursed forest? This one is for you!

Read here on Ao3

[risuola]

ENTRY #1 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I lay my dreams upon your feet, please be careful taking your steps.

contents: arranged marriage!au, angst-ish, slight age gap (reader's around 22, Satoru is 28), loveless marriage, brief mentions of blood and toxicity — wc. 1975

a/n: starting a new series while two other are hanging in the air and hundreds of wips are waiting for being written? yeah, that's me, but hey, I needed to start something new to get my creative juices flowin'. this one's gonna be a series of entries, a diary if you will.

series masterlist

When you were younger, a girl innocent and little, blissfully unaware of the world around you, you wished to marry a prince. Influenced by tales told by your mother and tv shows you watched with big and curious eyes, you had a vision of the ceremony straight out of a dream. A magical display of love and the path of rose petals and feathers through which you were meant to stride in a dress made of satin and lace – white and elegant. You also saw him, the man that your heart would choose and desire. A prince handsome and kind, who would love and protect you even if by doing so, his life would be on the line. You were too little to be aware of the naivety of the dreamy pictures in your head.

Sometimes you wished to turn back time and once again step into the shoes of the innocent you who never got to know sadness and fear. Sometimes you think of it with a bittersweet smile, reminiscing the way you used to go about your days without care about the world around. With mild regret you reminiscence the moment you learned that everything around you was–

“I’m talking to you. God damn it, are you deaf?”

“I heard you.”

–a lie.

You were a late bloomer but besides the judgmental looks you were receiving left and right from the elders of your clan, you also owe it the beauty of your prolonged childhood. Few years of freedom that you lost the memory of how it tasted and yet, you like to go back to it and drown in the pictures it left in your mind. Whilst all of your siblings were training and learning, fighting and risking their lives against the cursed spirits, you brought shame to your family. There was no place for someone without a cursed technique in a world of sorcery and you were made painfully aware of it at the day of your tenth birthday. That was also the end of your childhood and the day you wish to forget. You remember how the smiles of your parents turned into frowns and the soft, melodic tone of your mother became harsh and never got back to how it used to be. The tales and cookies vanished and what was left was nothing but suffering and degradation.

“Oh, did you?”

It took you six years of training to awaken the technique that later on was called the most powerful in the history of your clan. Six years of days and nights filled with sweat and tears, six years of bloody knuckles and bruises but also, it took six years of your determination to prove all of them wrong. Despite being the youngest of four siblings, you were able to stand against the worst of curses with nothing but a sword and raw power when everyone else relied heavily on the cursed techniques. You were strong and skilled, you were trained and fearless but still, you were looked down. A shame. To your family you were nothing but a shame.

And then, suddenly, you became a pride. You were on everyone’s mouths; you were talked about as if you were the most expensive and rare diamond. Years of harsh treatment you received suddenly became forgotten because once your technique awakened, you became the strongest in your clan, surpassing your siblings, your parents and everyone else who bore the same name as you. Suddenly other clans were talking about you too, with curiosity and fear. Suddenly, you became someone. But somehow, it didn’t make you happy. Once you realized that the world you were born into wasn’t a tale you always thought it is, you lost the ability to enjoy it. Maybe the pain of what you had given to become a true sorcerer rendered you unable to fully appreciate the adulthood, but you found it hard to see the light, when the darkness seemed to embed itself into your soul.

“You know what? Fuck that. I’m leaving.”

Ah yes, the marriage. With years that had passed since you were young and naïve, you stripped yourself of the dreams of sharing a life with a prince, but a part of you still hoped for love and calm. A part of your heart wished to settle with someone you’ll trust and care for. Someone who will ground you in the world of constant danger and for years you thought that you will find a man with whom the stressful life of sorcery will be a little kinder, a little less scary, a little more bearable. It was a child in you, a faint spark of juvenile carelessness that never died down, even in the darkest of days you endured.

You let out a deep sigh and allowed your lids to close. Your head leaned forward, forehead restless against the cold doors of the kitchen cabinet. The loud thud of doors snapping shut echoed in your ears for few moments and then it became silent. An earie cacophony of nothing but your own breath and soft ticking of the clock on the wall next to you. For a moment you thought about how many times you relived this very same situation already. The cold detachment, harsh exchange of words and then he’s gone. A salve of ruthless stabs that never seem to hurt less and the sound of your own voice forming sentences you wouldn’t think of if the circumstances were different.

First time you saw Satoru Gojo was many years before you truly knew who he is. It was a picture that you noticed by accident, somewhere in the papers your parents had spread out on the coffee table. He was a young boy back then. You remember the impression he made on you. He looked cold, intimidating, unapproachable. He looked like someone you’d never think of becoming friends with. You were young, just barely nine years old and he was already fifteen. He was already the strongest and even though you weren’t actively involved in the world of sorcery, you knew his name.

And then, many years later you sat in front of him. While the elders of your clans discussed the importance of the arrangement that was planned within the sorcerer’s society, Satoru was resting on a couch unamused, with his legs crossed and eyes covered by a layer of white bandages. You watched him, analyzed his lack of interest and the veil of cold arrogance with realization that everything you wished for was never on the table for you. During the two long hours of conversations that were about you and yet no one asked for your opinion, you and Satoru didn’t exchange one word.

You heard his voice actively directed at you for the first time during the wedding ceremony. It was small, very private and filled with people that you mostly didn’t know. It was far from perfect, though pretty in a way. Under the cautious watch of the most important figures of sorcery, you said the vows that made you feel nothing and yet meant so much. The words of promise, that for anyone else meant love and safe future, to you meant status and the name. You became Gojo. You became a wife to the strongest man in the world.

Now it’s seven months after the wedding and the day you and him moved together. The apartment you shared was filled with both yours and his belongings and yet it didn’t feel like home. It lacked the atmosphere of love and understanding and on days like this, you were losing hope it will ever feel different than miserable.

That day was nothing out of ordinary when it came to your marriage. Yet another fight, yet another beeline he made to leave you alone in the empty house. You always argue. There was no warmth between the walls of the apartment, there was no care and respect. Instead, there were snaps and insults, there was silence and avoidance. The large bed in what was meant to be a shared bedroom was occupied only by you, while Satoru preferred to sleep on a couch even though his tall frame was way too big for it. Besides one very brief and formal kiss you shared during the wedding day, you never kissed again. There was no holding hands, no incidental touches, no nothing that would convey any sort of feeling and only times your bodies made contact was when he grabbed your wrists in anger or when your shoulder hit his arm while you were passing by.

Truth is, you had no idea what Satoru was talking about that morning before he left. You were lost in thoughts, but you could only imagine he was mentioning the meeting he needed to attempt in the evening. He probably won’t be home until late and once he’ll come back, he’ll be annoyed by elders and for that, you couldn’t blame him. Whenever you face the elders of jujutsu community, your blood pressure raises as well and you’re quite calm by nature. That being said, if unlucky, you’ll be the one to take the hit of his anger.

Your fingers run across the golden band that adorned your finger. It was an absentminded motion that became a habit of sorts, helping you gather the thoughts, calming your mind. The cold feel of metal allowed you to let go of the stress and forced you to suck it up yet again.

Two hours after the morning fight, you found yourself surrounded by the familiar buildings in the Jujutsu tech area, watching your husband from afar. Satoru was in the middle of teaching students, if whatever the hell he was doing could be called teaching. Megumi was resting next to him as some other kids were fighting on the training field. The sound of wooden swords colliding echoed between the woods that surrounded the expanse of the school zones. Gojo was looking as careless as ever, calm and smiling – a sight that you almost never see unless he’s facing someone else. He was chatting with his almost-son, shouting some advice to the sparing students and going about his day as he usually does, but one thing was different.

 “Satoru,” you called his name as you went down the stairs to reach the spot where he was standing. He noticed you, you knew that. He most likely knew about your appearance way before you even got to see him, but now he chose to actively ignore your presence as his light blue eyes stayed focused on the field instead of landing on you.

“What brings you here?” He asked and you could tell how the tone of his voice changed from the friendly sensei to your husband’s rough approach. He wasn’t happy with your visit; you weren’t welcome near him and everyone knew that. The fact of your marriage being arranged wasn’t a secret and it also wasn’t a secret that it was Gojo’s clan decision, not his own. Satoru felt some sort of humiliation that despite him being the strongest, he was stripped of a choice who to spend his life with and you, as his wife, were paying for his resentment.

“I brought you this,” you replied, reaching your hand towards him. His eyes landed on your palm and you noticed a ghost of relief that washed over his features when he took the band of black fabric from your hold. His blindfold, that you realized was ripped – he left at home in the morning. That was most likely what he was talking to you about because once you cleaned up after the breakfast, you noticed the band and his broken glasses left on the coffee table.

“So you were listening,” Satoru said quietly and securely covered his eyes.

“I wasn’t.”

[floatyflowers]

Butterfly| Dark Samurai X Cursed! Reader

Inspired: Butterfly by Smile.dk

The deadly aura wrapped around the forest like a heavy veil, making it harder to see a clearing.

Yet, you flew through the trees with ease, remembering how you used to walk on land with your two feet, enjoying the sense of freedom you had, but the witch's curse has stolen that from you.

The painful transformation shrank your body, and wings burst from your back. By dawn, you were a butterfly, cured by the witch you insulted.

But she was tauntingly merciful enough to tell you how to break the curse.

'To break the spell, you must find a warrior of steel and shadow. At the edge of his blade, you must stand, and only then shall you be free.'

You had searched for what felt like an eternity, watching as warriors clashed and swords sliced through the air, but none had seemed worthy...until tonight.

The scent of blood and steel clung to the breeze as you approached a lone warrior standing amidst a recent battle.

His armor, though splattered with crimson, gleamed beneath the moonlight.

Long black hair, unbound and wild, framed a face too beautiful for a man who had just ended so many lives.

You, understanding the final step of the witch's riddle, landed on the very edge of the blade, your tiny feet clinging to the cold steel.

A strange energy pulsed through you, a jolt that shattered the illusion of your butterfly form causing the world to swim back into focus, your human senses returning with a rush.

Human limbs tangling as you collapsed against the samurai’s chest.

His arms caught you instinctively, his breath hitching as he stared down at you, a naked, trembling woman where a butterfly had been just moments before.

"What sorcery is this?" he demanded with a voice that is low and dangerous.

You gasped, still shuddering from the transformation.

"A curse," you admitted. "One that could only be broken... by standing on the edge of your blade."

His gaze darkened. Something flickered in those dark eyes, something possessive, and ravenous.

You didn’t understand it. Not yet.

The witch had left out one crucial detail.

Breaking the curse didn’t just free you.

It bounded the ruthless samerui to you.

---

Akao was not a man who believed in fate. He believed in steel, in blood, in the weight of a promise.

But from the moment you tumbled into his arms, he knew Kami has chosen you for him.

You were his.

He didn’t say it, not at first. He gave you his haori to cover yourself, he fed you, and gave his protection as you traveled together.

However, his eyes never left you. His fingers lingered when they touched. And when a bandit dared to leer at you, his blade found his throat before you could even blink.

"You didn’t have to kill him," you whispered that night, watching the firelight dance across Akao’s sharp features.

He didn't answer you, as his gaze was unwavering.

You shivered.

It wasn’t until weeks later, when he pressed you against a temple wall after speaking to one of the villagers, his body caging yours, that you finally understood.

"You are mine," he breathed, lips grazing your ear.

"The moment you chose my katana, you chose me."

You should have been afraid. But the heat in his eyes, the devotion in his touch, it melted your resistance.

The curse had bound you to him, yes.

But as his mouth claimed yours, as he vowed to carve his love into your skin and soul, you realized something far more dangerous.

You didn’t want to be free.

Not from him.

Never from him.