#void fodder

[camsoblivionjournal]

You’re dating again. 

I’m not jealous. I do not want you. You infuriate me. I almost hate you. You were never going to be an open wound, bleeding and bleeding, I didn’t like you enough for that. But you were never going to be a lumpy ugly scar, you were my first and therefore my everything. I don’t know what we were, to be honest. People who wanted to be wanted? And to be honest, being with you was the least honest I had ever been with myself. 

I think I wanted you to want me. And I think, above all else, I wanted to be wanted. 

No one tells you how to feel. I mean, they do, yeah, in the form of ‘move-ons’ or ‘you’re better offs’ and well-reasoned arguments. Arguments that still don’t tell me how to feel, because they’ve been formed under an incorrect assumption about us. Because truth be told, I do not think I ever really wanted you. 

You wanted me. I needed me to want you. And I needed to be who you believed I was. 

And I think I want you to be happy. After we broke up, I was excited for you to be happy in a relationship again. I wanted you to find what you wanted. Or at least, to find something real. I realize now, writing this, how terminally I crave approval. My fatal flaw. Enough to contort myself for months into foreign shapes and colors. Clearly we did not fit like we constantly believed we did.

So, herein lies the stink of my wound: I’m not supposed to feel any type of way about you dating again. Because, as I’ve so gracefully declared, I did not want you then and I do not want you now. We did not work. 

But I think I almost hate this because you finding someone else reminds me of my utter inadequacy. I hope she actually wants you, like I pretended I did. I hope she actually… 

I hope she says yes, doesn’t shudder in anxiety, and ignores hints. 

That’s not the main reason why I feel like my heart is rotting in my chest. I feel like a stepping stone, a means to an end. I feel like the side character, an obstacle to overcome, in your great love story, while always having been the main character to myself. Worse, still, is imagining y’all doing the exact same things we did. The same conversations, with the same little phrases you like, similar inside jokes, same playlist, same love notes. But who knows? Maybe your new love has a different flavor now. I hope it does. 

God, I hope y’all do not talk about me. But I know you will. Mention me, that is. Mention what I didn’t do, what I didn’t say. Mention the car ride home from the concert, in which I had a panic attack and almost vomited (your greatest fear is vomit). Mention the birthday sleepover, in which I had a panic attack in your basement bonus room bathroom and had to get picked up early because it was my first one and I thought I was dying. Probably whisper to her, between warm sheets, that I never took that leap that night, instead paralyzed in fear on my side of the bed. I never reached for you. I don’t think I could. Maybe I wanted to? But I could not. 

What kind of friends were we? I remember finding you funny. I remember wanting to be funny enough for you. I remember how I changed how I texted for you. I remember listening to your favorite music, watching your favorite shows. It was like you were made to be the object from which I sought approval. I needed you to like me. 

I remember sobbing on a November morning because you had confessed and I could not date you because the thought alone brought tremors and cold sweats. And it was almost never because of who you were and almost always because of who I am. Maybe a month later, you asked again and I said yes. And I remember, after we ended, hating the way you dressed. The way you hid yourself, the way I was certainly too loud for you. The way you could never crack a smile, use charisma, and especially not when I needed it. Respond with ‘what do you want me to say?’ and believe the solution to my problems was to remove myself from them completely. To quit, try and get out of it. The way you viewed your humor as elite, superior. I hated how I viewed you in the same way. 

You were always a club I wasn’t in. 

I did not fit in well with your friends. You convinced me you hated them, and that’s why. You weren’t like them, you had been roped in when you were younger, they were childhood friends. You told me you wish you had friends like mine. It was only after I realized you were probably exactly where you wanted to be. Because here you were, at your big age, choosing to continue associating with these people. It was always a choice. And what of my friends? Well, you had articulated your opinions on ‘weirdos’ and ‘freaks’ (what I am), and for some reason, I chose to pretend they were the exception to the rule. That I was. 

Please don’t talk about me to her. I know you’re up right now, doing that exact thing. I will be a footnote in y’all’s epic love story and I need to be okay with that. I was just wondering if I could get away with not being known as the ex who couldn’t even kiss you. 

God. How do you tell people you don’t think you feel romantic attraction? That you believe yourself to be incapable of participating in what is commonly known as life’s greatest feature?  And, worse even, how do I tell you? I want to explain to you why I was how I was. Because I am how I am. But I cannot, God forbid, I cannot end up in a screenshot. Please don’t reduce me to that. Please. 

I can’t tell you. I’ll have to wait a little while or the rest of my life to prove to the world and then to myself, that who I am is who I am. Deep down I hope I am wrong.

[khaoseldestdaughter]

Let me go-ahead and just make this real quick and ill edit as I go

Hi, I'm Nyx.

Papi is also fine.

I'm an ADULT adult. Minors definitely don't interact in any way. Under 21, don't get cute in my inbox/replies 😐

New blog, not new to Tumblr. I'll get a tag system going as I go

💋 #void fodder - delete later

💋 #nyx daydreams -personal fantasy

💋 #titillating literature - fantasy I like to read

💋 #chuckle - lol. Lmao, even.

[harrenhalyuri]

omw to romance marazhai again now that my hopes of romancing einrich monteg have been dashed

[lurkingshan]

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

That, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

[eldritch-flame]

Making a Flight Rising skin out of impulse for the Flameforger contest, wish me luck gang

[lunanoc]

the more i read through the early dmbj books with the hindsight of things that are unveiled as far down the line as queen's banquet the more i'm floored by the sheer amount of details that have been there from the start explaining and tying everything together so seamlessly

w h a t

[machetelettuce]

Nolawi and Narinder's references for my What Is A Shepherd Without A Flock? au because amidst my Inez craze ive also been thinking about their dynamic against Nolawi and Calvert (my other Lamb)'s personalities.

Ranting about Nolawi + their Narinder below!

Nolawi was conceptualized as a Lamb who tries to sacrifice their life for Narinder SO INTENSELY that the mystic seller fucking GIVES UP and lets them have him... But, they have to give up something in return. An eye for an eye, their entire cult for their god.

This is obviously a very devastating and character-breaking moment for them in which they choose their own selfish wants over the good of their flock, but I think they're an interesting character and this reading is surface deep (i say, talking about my own oc).

Nolawi is the oldest of my lambs, they died at 38 and they were a teacher and leader amongst their population. They had a wife and a young daughter who was killed in the slaughter. They lost their entire herd to forces outside of their control, and now they will lose their flock due to their own selfish decisions. And the worst part of it is that they realize that they don't actually care that much. That's what destroys them-- They don't feel for their herd anymore.

They've fallen into the mindset of... 'well, they're just fodder for the future', without even realizing it. The same mindset that led their past sheep herd to being slaughtered. And so, they've made their choice, they have this horrible realization that they're a terrible terrible person, they now have a formerly chained-- pissy (and in immeasurable pain) god by their side, they are ALSO a god now, and oh yeah, they're both going to DIE if they don't raise another cult soon.

So: Fuck. Fuck. They are so, so fucked. Emotionally they're in ruin, and Narinder is physically in ruin. He's trying to help but he's also been in chains in a void for the past thousand years so god knows he's shoving through a world he hasnt walked in ages and he's trying to navigate an incredibly emotionally charged situation with Nolawi. It's such a mess. And again they're on the verge of death and both getting weaker the less devotion they have, Narinder starts with no devotion either so he's on the chopping block first. Nolawi has to move fast while also trying to not let Narinder die and trying to not give into horrible depression. They suck I love them.

Oh to be two middle aged people trying to survive issues far beyond your control while having an incredibly emotionally messy relationship.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Gobblick

Debut: Mario & Luigi: Brothership

The embargo on Brothership enemies that-I'm-not-sure-if-we-actually-had-or-not is OVER! Which MOD TWEETER is happy about, because she finally gets to talk about her favorite creature from the whole game: GOBBLICK!

From the success of fictional pitcher plants like Victreebel and...er...Victreebel, it's no secret that they've captured the hearts of millions worldwide! And yet, finding a decent video game pitcher plant in this day and age is hard. And that's sad! Especially since Wet-Dry World has arbitrarily decided my rent should be paid for in articles about video game pitcher plants!

Gobblick is SUCH a good pitcher plant design though, definitely worth the wait!! Look at that gut! Those spots! That big, long licker! The ridges on its leaf and lower jaw, seamlessly combining pitcher plant and bear trap aesthetics!

But, of course, the BIG show-stopper: EYES IN A VOID, BABY!!!! I love it!! It works PERFECT with the pitcher plant design! In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they added them to REAL pitcher plants in a future update! They even remind me of that one talking pot in Winnie-the-Pooh that stuck onto my mind since I watched it as a child!

Since they're on the INSIDE of what is definitively its mouth, though, that raises the question...are these Gobblick's eyes at all? What if they're the eyes of something else? But...what would that something else be? A spider? A Lickitung? Perhaps it's the eyes of a treeshrew, and it's attacking out of embarrassment of us catching it using the bathroom? I'm sorry, hypothetical treeshrew! But you probably shouldn't stay in there, if that's the case, even if you're shy!

Or, most likely, these ARE the eyes of the noble Gobblick, and it uses them to watch its food go down! When you're a pitcher plant, is there honestly anything better to do?

Yes! And that thing is: attacking plumbers! Gobblick is such a fan of battling Mario & Luigi that he has not one, but TWO battles against them! That may not seem like a lot, but that's more than most Mario bosses in most single mainline games!

"Well, that's fine and all, but I bet none of its attacks include the coveted Root Attack," you might scoff. And you'd be wrong! Although real pitcher plant roots are, frankly, not really something to write home about, the root arms of Gobblick are able to dig through ground as they approach the brothers, in a way similar to Whispy Woods! Kirby's Dream Land 2 fans rejoice!

But, this isn't even Gobblick's only form! In fact, the first time I saw and fell in love with Gobblick was in its SECONDARY form! Warning, however, that this form is built off of integral spoilers for the game, so if you click below, do so wisely...!

Name: Glohm Gobblick

Debut: Mario & Luigi: Brothership

WOW! If you loved Gobblick already, then I hope Glohm Gobblick was worth the wait–it certainly was, for me!

Wine-red is just a perfect yet underrated color, especially for pitcher plants! I couldn't believe I had never thought about making a reddish pitcher plant prior, myself, but that just goes to show how ingrained plant color stereotypes are! I saw a picture of a pitcher eating a rat once, and it never escaped my mind, and THAT was red!

But Glohm Gobblick isn't just this beautiful shade of red for no reason! It's under the effect of being Glohmed, which makes anyone other than Mario & Luigi more powerful while amplifying their desire to be isolated and lonely! And unlike some other characters, there's nobody around that's worried for our poor friend Gobblick...it exists only as an optional boss you can come across on your own. Don't worry, Gobblick, we love you...!

Gobblick is never truly alone, however. Thankfully, the game specifies that this is not the Gobblick, but a Gobblick! It's one of MANY! Please expect Gobblick to make its way alongside Toads and Piantas as one of the main recurring Mario People, being charming background fodder for decades to come.

Or not, since it's canonically from another world. Too bad.

This should cover my Wet-Dry Rent for the next few weeks! Join me next time when I finally cover the last in the top three most popular video game pitcher plants: Weepinbell. Bye.

[solarpoweredpunkpossum]

having complicated feelings about the politics of rage

like that specific kind of debate bro whose videos are all "liberal DESTROYED raging feminist OWNED by calm facts and logic haha i'm so smart and cool" who thinks anyone not in a perfect stoic state must immediately be wrong (and by proxy their ability to "argue" about things that don't affect them divisive topics calmly means they must be right)

seeing people finding their ways to scream into the void for reaping week or vent the anger and indignity at how screwed up our world is... why is it so taboo? why is it so bad to be upset at, yknow, things that should upset any rational, compassionate person?

because yeah, anger isn't rational and tends to find targets rather than solutions, but for fluff's sake it doesn't just go away! you can't turn off your passion! and you shouldn't! you should be upset! you should be upset about climate change and billionaires and rising fascism! you should be upset that the world is unjust!

but we've created, or accepted, or failed to question, this framework where being calm makes you more correct and being visibly passionate or upset is a bad thing, where being riled up by someone who thinks you don't deserve rights is a sign of weakness, where caring loudly and vibrantly is somehow bad optics because being angry looks bad.

angry people are dangerous. angry people can't be trusted. angry people shouldn't be listened to. angry people can't control their emotions. angry people should just calm down. angry people should be subdued.

just shut up and take it already, won't you?

like. look. the doomerism and despair is strong outside of communities like this. so often i find myself asking where is your rage!? where is your hope?! your joy, your passion, your conviction that a better world will be made!

i spent a long time drowning in some pretty rough crap. when i managed to crawl out of it, the first thing i felt was relief. the second was burning, white-hot rage that i had lived like this, that i had been allowed to live like this. anxiety makes you want to shrink down, be as small as possible, as unintrusive, as unnoticeable. anger told me to be loud, be bright, be visible, shout from the rooftops that i deserved better, turn passion into action instead of wallowing.

yes, i am angry at the world and i should be. i am upset that people who have more money than i can even conceive of can run the planet into the ground and blame me for using too much plastic. i am upset that my existence is someone else's political fodder they can fearmonger about for engagement. i am upset that people are dying over numbers on a graph and lines on a map. i am upset that billions of dollars for guns and tanks gets written off without question, but the single mother of two on food stamps is what's draining the budget. i am upset and i'm not going to apologize for it, because that isn't "letting my emotions control me," it's having basic fluffing compassion for other people.

sorry i can't be calm like you while you're holding a gun to my head. it must be easier when it's your finger on the trigger.

[red-garden]

More of this AU

In the classic reader -> cultivator transmigration path, Loser Troll Bingge gets slam dunked into The Protagonist Shen Yuan’s supportive cannon fodder buddy from his disciple years Luo Bingmei. Bingmei was the source of a lot of Shen Yuan’s initial trauma with agency, power, and decision making, given that he died at the immortal alliance conference after Shen Yuan made a bad call. Loser Troll Bingge decides that he’s going to permanently jade the protagonist into a ‘nothing matters, nothing can fulfill you so do whatever you want until you die no matter if you hurt other people’ type antihero.

Loser Troll Bingge was a Reddit edge lord in his last life, but distinctly not an incell. He had a lot of short term gfs who he mainly used to feel good about himself. He had sort of a manosphere grindset anti intellectualism in media thing going on. Really it’s all an attempt to fill the void of emotional intimacy and fulfillment in his life. He’s got that deeply closeted homophobia going on, as apposed to Shen Yuan who is already actualized in his sexuality as a gay man with few hang ups about it (thank you vague xianxia lack of homophobia setting). While Bingge initially really liked the character of Shen Yuan, as the narrative made him more meek and naïve- sort of stumbling into plots, power, and wives he never shows real attraction to- Bingge flamed the author for making Shen Yuan a blue pilled soy beta orbiter cuck (I took psychic damage just writing that).

Shit like

@ xX_GreatWolf_Xx: who gives a shit about allegory and themes, make SY fuck! I tired of him being being a low T cuck when he literally has a harem of over 300 peerless beauties. STOP MAKING HIM GAY!!!!

He died immediately after posting this from alcohol poisoning

(Note: no, this isn’t me saying Luo Bingge is a manosphere freak. Loser Troll Bingge starts off as a deeply flawed character that gets absolutely obliterated by the bingmeification ray)

[theinsideofablackhole]

(More) Rain World Pearl Writings

Now with some hit-or-miss doodles I made to visualize the pearls. They might be incredibly compressed idk...

Bicker

Interesting… It is a debate forum on the punitive ruling of a homicide. To thrust an enlightened individual across the cycle was considered abominable.

However, the presiding Just Order decided that the perpetrator embodied “The Remorsive Luminance Within”, and recommended her for temporary exile to a temple.

The discourse over the sentencing is… vulgar, to say the least. Many of my citizens did little else but talk, and thus the political landscape mutated into a frenzy of dozens of quarreling factions.

Most systems were commanded by the dynastic Concepts, so the remaining scraps of governance were subject to vicious competition by these factions. Power changed hands constantly.

The perpetrator was lucky. Had it been any other cycle, the ruling Order would throw her in a sensory deprivation tank or wipe her memory. Or perhaps she would be declared unsalvageable and turned into fodder for ritual combat.

It’s a bit baffling that they rarely just transcended their criminals in a Void Fluid bath instead. Probably because it would defeat the point of their bickering…

Mast

Oh? This contains a very old intellectual offering to the 52nd Great Mind, or the Aetherial Mast west of here. It consists of a very flattering, complex riddle.

Since you’ve been to Five Pebbles, I imagine that you’ve seen those grand towers piercing into the sky. They once formed a communication network between iterators, but a few of them - such as this particular one - are actually older than iterators like me.

After the Void Fluid Revolution, people quickly discovered that if any construct got complex enough, it would gain sapience.

So they threw as much computational power as they could into these towers, and waited. They expected the Aetherial Masts to quickly discover a method to implode the cosmos into the earth, achieving global transcension.

It inevitably failed. The 52nd Great Mind was later connected to a larger, more deliberate construct, and underwent apotheosis to become Looks to the Moon. Which is me!

The first of us iterators were reborn from these Great Minds. Afterward, most Masts were created with an iterator already in control.

Thank you, little creature, for this memento from my distant past.

Brain Tree

It's a treatise on memorykeeping. There’s a crypt nearby here, under Five Pebbles - piles and piles of cabinets, holding the legacies of my departed creators.

Through a complex bombardment procedure, the storage components of a person's mind would grow a twin lump, which contained cherished memories. The "memory fruit" was then removed and placed in a cabinet.

When the crypts began to acquire a hefty pile of cabinets, my creators discovered that all the fruits had united via a network of roots. The formation bulged outward endlessly, breaking into a factory far, far away. The cleanup effort was monumental.

Now, a microbe system continually expels the fruits' boundless energy, and kills them if the defenses fail to keep the fruits from getting too large.

Rare as they are, mass fractal neural emissions are a worrying phenomenon. Please keep your distance if you see a fruit that has grown into a tree.

Don't touch it - I don't know what might happen to you.

[yanderemasquerade]

Dark Elf Noble

Notes: Male dark elf x fem reader

He was a noble son of a powerful house, not that that meant much in his female dominated society. As the second boy of four, he was constantly overlooked and outshined, but that did nothing to dampen his cocky attitude. Circumstances dictated that he would never rise above his station, but he was exactly where he needed to be to meet you.

Sitting on the balcony of his stalagmite house, idly watching the slaves kept by his family go about their menial tasks as one watches fish in an aquarium, he spots you, a human woman! He'd never seen a human before, and you obviously stand out among the others, the majority being goblins, orcs, and kobolds. At first he considers you might be one of those evil surface elves he's heard about, but then you would look more slender and angular as himself. Instead, you have rounder and softer features with pinkish hues. You're also quite short and delicate looking compared to dark elf females who are typically bigger and more powerful than the males. It's exactly that which catches his interest, never before has he felt so easily superior to a female, and it instantly placates his overinflated ego.

He knows why you were placed here, to embarrass and demean you, to make an example of a female of another species. He needs you though, needs to explore these enticing feelings that just watching you presents, but he knows he couldn't ask permission. His matron mother would never allow him to keep you, to save you from your fate, nor would she grant a gift to her disappointing middle son. He also knows that he can't leave you here long, to fall as fodder to the brutish slaves around you. As he digests that inevitability, he realizes that if you go missing that would be the presumed reason.

As the town settled for rest, he crept into your holding. The others that possessed the same infrared vision he did quickly parted, not daring to stand in the way of a drow on a mission. Without the fairy fire of the courtyard though, you were totally blind in the void of darkness. You can't possibly see him coming, and you can't hear his assassin-like silent steps; it's childs play to him as he grabs you and holds a hand over your mouth. He whispers something to you, and as everything in this foreign world you don't understand a bit. You have no choice but to comply, and he leads you out into the city. It's as beautiful as it is foreboding, completely alien to you but even you can recognize the mastery of architecture. However the structure he brings you to is in disarray, it is the ruin of a house now destroyed, now forgotten. No one will have cause to come to this place again, except for him, to visit his new prize.

He lays out a bed roll for you, and lines it in blue fairy fire to dimly light the room enough for you to see. You slink into the corner, but you can understand that he's doing something nice for you, at least in some capacity. Even you could predict your fate if you had stayed in his family's compound. To what end has he brought you here, you're not sure, but anything is better than the alternative. He pulls out a scrap of food from his satchel, strange and foreign, but recognizably some sort of cooked meat. You reach out to take it and he slaps your face, firmly but not too forcefully. You look up to his face and he laughs softly, grinning ear to ear. The slap was not discipline, not meant to teach a lesson, it was purely because he could and it was fun to do so. He waits for you to reach back out for it, hesitantly this time, and then tussles your hair affectionately. You take a small bite to test the flavor, and then scarf it down unceremoniously. You're so unrefined in his eyes, like a frightened little animal, and he adores you for it. You will never be in a place to talk down to him, to make him feel small, in fact just this quick first interaction with you makes him feel more like a man than he ever has. He strokes your cheek and you shiver under his touch but don't dare pull away, to your understanding anything could set him off. He leans in slowly and holds his face uncomfortably close to yours, then kisses you softly with his eyes open to watch your reaction. You can't fight the spark you feel when you look into his ruby glowing eyes with his lips pressed against yours, and as you relax a bit and give into the kiss, he pinches your thigh, hard. Startled, you flinch back a little and whimper, and he laughs at you again. You were his most coveted possession now, and only he could have you.

[shhtickerbook]

Baby Feathers

Merry Christmas!

(Helluva Age regression ficlet that takes place post sinsmas)

I don’t see enough fics that have caregivers who want to try regressing!!! So I decided to fill that void and the soul destroying events of sinsmas gave me lots of agere fodder. have a lovely holiday everybody!!! Fic below!

Stolas had everything planned. It was new years Eve and both Stolas and Blitzø had the holiday just to themselves. Millie and Moxxie were spending the holiday with Millie’s family in Wrath, whilst Loona was going to another party at Beelzebub’s. Stolas had spent many a New Year’s Eve at insufferable galas, but there had always been one silver lining. Both himself and Via would slip away from the ball, where the two would sit on the roof of their mansion and watch the first new year’s moon come to rise. He still hadn’t realised that this would be the first year where they wouldn’t be able to share their tradition. He couldn’t stop thinking of Octavia, their last interaction cruelly playing on loop in his mind. His heart was breaking with every second, but at least he had Blitzø. If he hadn’t been grieving so painfully, maybe he’d be able to enjoy himself.

There was one aspect he found great comfort in though, and that was being able to take care of Blitzø. Over the past few months he’d been introduced to the Imp’s smaller side, which had taken a while for Blitzø to open up about it properly. He was a pretty headstrong character, and struggled s lot when it came to expressing any kind of vulnerability.

Stolas had actually found out by accident, with Blitzø regressing involuntarily after a bad night terror. Stolas’s heart had broke when he found his partner looking so afraid and vulnerable. Blitzø wasn’t able to really explain what was happening, but Stolas was already a parent, it was second nature to know how to comfort little ones after a bad dream. The next morning Blitzø had explained what happened, sometimes he found himself slipping younger in age, usually when he was stressed or was reminded of bad things. Especially since he lost his mother, she was the only person who treat him with gentle nurturing care. When he lost her, he never got to feel that again. So when he began to have these episodes, it became a part of himself he had to hide out of shame.

For a long time he continued to suppress this side of himself, pushing away all these childish longings. But he could only hold it back for so long until his body decided for him. When he did find out, Stolas was almost too supportive of it, finding this side of Blitzø absolutely darling. Lavishing him with toys, clothes and all kinds of things he never even considered trying. Stolas even found himself getting a lot out of caring for him too, it made him feel needed.

-

Blitzø had to admit that it felt great to not hide this side of him anymore. Stolas had officially seen every episode of that pony show, and helped Blitzø brush the manes of every single horse figurine he owned. But ever since the trial, neither Blitzø or Stolas had the time or the mental energy to take come time to relax.

Stolas had felt so guilty that in his current state he hadn’t been able to care for Blitzø, and had even collected a set of gifts for him to open from Sinsmas. On the day itself he’d set aside his little gifts so that he wouldn’t have to open them in front of the others. So he’d made the decision to surprise him with a “little sinsmas” on new years, when they knew they’d have the house all to themselves.

Stolas woke up early to get out the gifts he had stored away. Thankfully he had purchased these before he’d lost all of his money and possessions. But when he did get up, he felt awful. The former prince had slept terribly, tossing and turning as he once again replayed what had happened with Via. He was then cursed with unpleasant dreams that only tortured him further. All he wanted was his daughter, but she wanted nothing to do with him.

Regardless of how he felt, he pushed himself through it, today was for Blitzø. The imp had done so much for him recently, he had to pay it back somehow. He quietly looked through Blitzø’s wardrobe in search of some of his little clothes, choosing an oversized hoodie with some colourful horse motifs. It even had an adorable woollen mane that went down the hood. Last of all he collected a plastic box at the bottom of the wardrobe, stolas recognising it. Inside Blitzø kept all of his baby things, pacifiers, some teethers and other equally adorable equipment. It was adorned with multiple stickers, all in the horse variety.

As he entered back into the main room, stolas began to gather some ingredients for breakfast. The plan was to make Blitzø some oatmeal for breakfast, which was simple enough. Blitzø always liked it drizzled with cherry syrup, and if he was feeling little enough he’d even let Stolas feed him.

Stolas carefully arranged the gifts wrapped in coloured paper by the tree, flicking on the fairy lights for added effect. He loved the small touches of sinsmas, indulging in the little details that made it feel magic. Blitzø had mentioned how sinsmas wasn’t really a special thing when he was a kid, the circus would perform through the whole holiday. Which included an extra special sinsmas day show which was very popular, but it meant he never got to really enjoy the holiday.

He thought of a little blitz crouched by the tree, tearing open coloured parcels in glee. You couldn’t help but smile. As a final touch, he pulled the blinds open to let the light in. Such a simple action turned into a huge mistake. As Stolas glanced outside, his gaze was caught to the horizon. Peeking just through the clouds was the new moon, only barely visible. By tonight it would be hanging at the peak of the sky, even in daylight it was beautiful.

How could something so beautiful destroy him so painfully? Stolas remembered everything, his special tradition with his daughter. He thought of Octavia, sitting alone and watching the moon rise. The way she spat her words towards her father, looking like she genuinely despised him. Who was he kidding? It didn’t look like he hated him, she did hate him. Stolas just sank to the floor, his beak quivering as he felt tears building in his eyes. It was all too much. All he wanted was to hold his daughter in his arms again, but would that ever happen again?

she hated him.

she HATED him.

-

Blitzø turned over in bed, dozily reaching over into the empty space of his bed. He’d gotten so used to sleeping next to somebody again, so when he didn’t feel any feathers in his grasp, it pulled him out from his snoozing.

“Mmme- Stolas?”

He mumbled, eyes fluttering open. As suspected, Stolas wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Pushing himself up onto his elbow before rubbing his eyes, recently Stolas had been the one who stayed in bed. Blitzø would usually let him sleep in for as long as he needed, sometimes leaving a note if he had to leave for work.

With a yawn Blitzø pulled himself up, before hearing something from outside the room. It took him a second to realise in his sleep addled state, but he could clearly hear a sadly familiar sound of crying. Within a second he’d jumped from the bed and thrown open the door.

“Stolas? are you okay?”

In hindsight it was a pretty stupid question, especially when he found said bird on the floor of his sitting room. He was curled in on himself, sobbing bitterly. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of what he’d been like when Octavia had rejected him.

“Hey hey- what’s going on?”

Blitzø joined him on the floor, resting a hand over Stolas’s shaking back. Stolas flinched at the touch at first, but couldn’t help but fall into Blitzø’s hold. Blitzø could feel Stolas’s feathers quivering as he tried to control his sobbing. The Imp couldn’t help but notice that a lot of his little stuff was scattered across the room.

His box of pacifiers and that one hoodie he liked to wear, there were also some new gifts under the tree.

“I had planned to- I’m sorry, i just wanted to make today special for you.”

Stolas whimpered, feeling like he’d ruined everything. He thought he would feel better today, if he got to care for Blitzø. But right now owl felt as fragile as glass, but Blitzø held onto him tight and securely. It clicked as he realised what Stolas had been trying to do, his expression softening.

“Oh stolas, it’s okay.”

“It’s not! All I’ve done is mope around and you’ve had to do everything for me. Not to mention the money you’ve spent and the time I’ve taken up. I had it all planned, you deserved a break-“

It took him a little time to string together his response, tears continuing to dribble down his feathers. He felt pathetic, how was he going to care for a regressed Blitzø when he was this much of a mess? It furthered his suspicion that was just a complete failure when it came to any kind of caregiving.

“Stolas listen to me, it’s okay. It’s.. really sweet you thought of this.”

Blitzø gently tilted his beak to meet his face, the tearstained bird’s expression tugging something on his heartstrings. He looked around, spotting the half made breakfast and carefully arranged presents. All the effort he’d made, for him no less.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He chuckled, managing to pull the lanky heap of owl closer into his lap the best he could. His statement seemed to reactivate Stolas tears though, who cried intelligibly into his chest. It was the other way around, it was Stolas that didn’t deserve him.

Whilst Blitzø still wasn’t entirely sure on what had triggered this, it didn’t take an idiot to know it was related to Octavia. In the time Blitzø had known Stolas, he’d never seen him like this. The Goetian Prince was so broken, fragile. But thankfully Blitzø had some experience in that feeling already.

He let him cry it out for a few minutes, with the shoulder of his shirt becoming very wet. He ran his fingers up and down Stolas’s feathers, gently preening him as he murmured comfort. The sobs eventually died down into sad sniffling, but the grip around him still hadn’t broken. Although Stolas’s heart was breaking, Blitzø’s grip around him was at least keeping said shards in place.

As Blitzø rubbed his back, he was hit with a sudden idea. He felt a little guilty that Stolas had gone through all this trouble for him, especially as he wasn’t feeling anywhere near small. And as much as he cared for Stolas, he couldn’t fake his regression either. Anyways, he didn’t feel like he was the one need in comfort right now.

“Hey, here’s an idea. I know we’ve never talked about this before, but what if you let me take care of you today?”

Stolas stirred a little with a frown, peeling his crispy feathered face away from Blitzø’s chest.

“What do you mean?”

“You take care of me when I’m feeling low, why not let me baby you for once? You’re lookin’ like you need it.”

The more Blitzø thought about it, the more he wanted to give it a try. There was something about the forlorn bird in his arms that melted his heart a little. Was this how Stolas felt with him? Nah, he couldn’t he this cute.

“No, you’re my baby. I care for you, I care for people- it’s what I like to do.”

Stolas suddenly felt flustered, face lighting up bright red. He’d never even considered the idea of swapping roles before. Blitzø was his baby, never the other way around. He wasn’t sure if it felt right to him, he wanted to be the one caring for Blitzø.

“Yeah, and you do a great fuckin job at it. So why not let me return the favour, you might even like it?”

Blitzø teased as he gently pinched the owls red cheeks, already delighting in the idea. Stolas found himself wavering a little, especially with how shivery and weak he was. He looked over at the gifts guiltily, but Blitzø already had it covered.

“Look we could try it today, if you don’t like it, we’ll stop. We can save the gifts for tomorrow, and then you can have your turn babying me, sound okay?”

Blitzø sounded so sure that Stolas found it hard to disagree. Although it still felt very alien, he definitely appreciated this cuddling part right now. So in the end gave a defeated shrug, Blitzø’s face lighting up.

“You just relax and let me take care of everything, feathers.”

Stolas shook for a second, before burying his beak into Blitzø’s shoulder again. Fresh tears erupted seemingly for no specific reason. But this time there was a sense of catharsis that came with it, to be able to cry in safety. Was this how Blitzø felt when Stolas would comfort him whilst small? He hoped so, as it felt pretty damn good.

Blitzø began to rock him back and forth, kissing the crown of his feathers. He gave him a few more minutes to cry, Stolas had been forcing himself into long periods of numbness recently and clearly needed it. Eventually Blitzø shifted Stolas to the side a little, who whined at the movement.

“Lemme just move ya onto the couch, I can’t feel my fuckin’ legs anymore.”

With quite a bit of effort, Blitzø managed to lift the bird onto the couch. Unfolding the blanket over the armrest and tucking it around his skinny frame. Whilst no longer sobbing, Stolas had been reduced to the awkward hiccupy stage. Blitzø told ahold of his hand, squeezing softly to get his attention.

“Hey try and breathe a little, in and out.”

The imp demonstrated, and Stolas tried his hardest to follow. But he found himself falling back into the unhelpful gulping, even with Blitzø’s help.

“Here’s an idea.”

Blitzø turned and rifled through his little box, finding an unopened package. Blitzø himself still hadn’t used these ones as he didn’t like the colours. Stolas turned to see what Blitzø was doing, with his pupils pin-pricking when he spotted it. In his hands was a package of pacifiers, a pack of three different shades of lilac to dark blue.

“You’re doing a shitty job at breathing right now, try one of these. You’ll have no choice but to breathe a little slower.”

He spoke so casually, holding out a dark blue pacifier. Stolas had seen this kind of item many, many times now. But now when it was being presented to him, rather from him? It felt a little scary. Blitzø watched as stolas internally fought with himself, rolling his eyes.

“Cmon, open that beak for me, feathers.”

He used the pet name for the second time, which made Stolas melt a little. As if beyond his control he held his beak open, Blitzø placing the pacifier there before he could change his mind.

The sensation was certainly strange at first, the bird wasn’t really sure what to do with it. But his body was still hellbent on breathing hard, so he focused on trying to breathe nasally instead. Without realising he began to suck on the bulb, and breathed in and out. If it hadn’t been such sad circumstances, Blitzø would’ve definitely taken a photo. It was just too fucking cute. Instead he joined Stolas on the couch, still demonstrating his breathing in time to Stolas’s.

“Feels good doesn’t it?”

Stolas looked up at him lazily, his was face a little red self consciously. But he couldn’t lie, the rhythmic sensation of the pacifier was incredibly soothing. With each minute he understood just why Blitzø liked them so much. There was a cloudy fuzzy sensation in his head, one that forced him away from all the sad and scary feelings. It was a blissful escape, but it wasn’t numbing him the way his pills used to.

So he nodded at his partner, squeezing his hand back tight. They spent the next twenty minutes just cuddling, and Stolas honestly felt the calmest he had in months. Blitzø eventually had to pry the owl off of him to sort out breakfast, turned on the TV for Stolas. He considered what to put on, before setting on an incredibly corny fairytale movie about a princess. But it was worth it to see the way Stolas’s eyes lit up when it came on.

Blitzø made himself a cup of coffee, and poured one of Stolas’s weird fancy teas into one of his own sippy cups. Choosing the moonlight unicorn design, after forcing stolas to watch every episode of his horse show, Stolas had eventually chosen his favourite character. When he returned to the couch, Stolas shuffled over to curl into his chest again. The pacifier still hasn’t left his beak since placing it there, he looked undeniably adorable. Blitzø was just so happy to see him looking content for the first time in days. The two could just spend their day with each-other’s company, enjoying every moment.

-

Neither demon even made it to the end of the movie, the two of them passed out in a tangle of limbs. The bird with his head curled underneath Blitzø’s chin, the imp’s hand subconsciously still stroking his feathers. Blitzø had gotten so used to himself being the baby in their relationship, that he’d never considered how much he’d enjoy swapping places. The remainder of their day continued in a similar fashion, Blitzø leading Stolas along in hand. And to his surprise Stolas was a very quiet little, who didn’t speak much for the rest of the day.

It was different than when he was quiet when he was sad though, Stolas would still giggle if Blitzø said something funny and was clearly enjoying himself. Stolas just felt happy that he didn’t have to try and think of words right now, he could just be. He allowed Blitzø to dress him in some loose cuddly clothes, and even hand feed him little squares of pancake when he felt up to eating.

Blitzø loved learning more about this little side of him. And Stolas found himself embracing a part of himself he’d never even uncovered. They spent the day indoors, playing games and watching movies. In the evening when Blitzø was busy running a bath for him, Stolas couldn’t help but glance outside. The moon was beginning to rise in the early evening, himself and Blitzø agreed to head to bed before midnight. The whole new year’s celebration never interested him too much, he really only ever used it as an excuse to get wasted.

Stolas pulled the pacifier from his beak and dropped it to the floor. Feeling the fog of his small space drift away, he took in a deep breath. Slipping outside onto the balcony, he dared himself to look up at the moon. Giving anything just for one more moment with Octavia, wondering what she was doing right now.

“I know you hate me, and that you can’t even hear me- But I love you so very much.”

He spoke to himself quietly, not breaking eye contact with the rising moon. Hoping that just maybe Octavia could somehow get the message. He stayed there for a little while, not even realising the slow tears dripping down his face until he felt a hand on his. Blitzø didn’t say anything, he stood aside the Owl for a while until he stirred from his trance.

“I got your bath ready, even added a bunch of those bath nukes you like.”

“Bath bombs- you mean.”

Stolas couldn’t help but correct, although he still sounded sad. Blitzø held onto his hand and lead him back inside, finding the pacifier abandoned on the floor.

“Hey you still want this buddy?”

He held it up, unsure if Stolas was feeling completely big again. The owl looked at the object, clearly considering it. He watched the Imp as he stared up at him with genuine adoration. Instead of a verbal response, he just took the pacifier back and allowed himself to sink back into that comforting headspace. The Goetian prince stood tall above Blitzø, and to any old person they must’ve looked ridiculous. But Blitzø looked up at the tall owl and only saw a little baby bird, one that was in desperate need of some love and care.

“Cmon then baby feathers, I have a whole collection of rubber duck horses just waiting to play with ya-“

Merry Christmas y’all ❤️❤️❤️

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 71 Heartbreak Posting

Welp. Time to cry, dear void.

Editor's Notes:

First Page: 封印されていたイヲリの記憶... [fuuin sa rete ita Iori no kioku...] "Iori's sealed memories..." Last Page: 明かされる罪… 示された未来... [akasa reru tsumi... shimesa reta mirai...] "Sins revealed... the future unveiled..."

Iori's Past

Iori's 17 in canon, confirmed as of this chapter. Yay we got her age.

A second character gets the spotlight without Chihiro showing up at all, and it's everyone's favourite tragic daughter. Once we get the kanji for her name I'll be confident in saying that she's here to stay as a cast member. Hopefully without getting shoved out of entire arcs, but y'know. No excessive bitterness allowed.

"FINE I guess I'll give her a name. Here. Don't fucking complain about it." - the author (maybe)

Hokazono-sensei really does name characters at gunpoint, huh. We didn't get the kanji for Inori's name either so there's nothing to look into in that respect but man, what a woman. I'm interested in how she met and fell in love with Samura but I think that's beyond the scope of this story.

I kind of hope we don't get any more dead moms for our cast members after this. We've got three confirmed instances now (Char, Hakuri, and Iori) and two implied permanent or near-permanent absences (Chihiro and Hiruhiko, though I concede that the latter is still mostly unknown). Someone in the main cast's gotta have a mom that's alive and well and not intended as tragic backstory fodder, right? Yeah? Even Disney stopped relying on the Dead/Missing/Evil Mom tropes a while back...

Let's talk about the good things though.

Go off, princess!

Well maybe not so good for Samura but we kind of expect him to be a complete and utter failure of a person outside of being a swordsman by now, right? Abandoned his wife and never visited his daughter so she had no idea who he was... poor Iori. She had every right to hate him then, and has every right to ream him out in the main story once they reunite again.

I've only seen Inori for one chapter but I'm going to say it: she was everything Samura needed, but she was too good for him. He lost her by refusing to stop dwelling on the past -the war especially- and she eventually ran out of patience. Good for her honestly! I like it when a character recognises they can't fix a major flaw in their partner and chooses to leave rather than hope they get better some day. She's not hating his guts or anything but she just lost patience with him and his refusal to find a way to manage his grief and be there for the people who love him. It's incredibly human and healthy! (Is that why she had to die?)

Little TL note:

Go off, queen!

What Inori says here is: "He's the worst! He's always dwelling on the past and totally neglecting us!" Hokazono did the little trick with the Ruby again so the word heard spoken aloud is "past" thanks to the hiragana (かこ for 過去 [kako, "the past"]) but the kanji is 戦争 [sensou, "war"] to let the audience know what she really means.

At any rate, she's completely right about Samura being a total failure of a person outside of swinging a sword. He's being such a martyr over what he did that he can't even bring himself to be there for his little girl! The hell! How can you be so wrapped up in yourself that you abandon your daughter and lose a woman like Inori? By being a traumatised war vet with intense guilt that you can't or won't get help for, that's how.

But life forces Samura to face the future through Iori anyway and it's so freaking funny.

It's the little things sometimes.

Samura can't tell what's going on despite his super senses because he's not used to living with a child as a blind man- I love touches like this. The character writing for the series is still top-notch even with the weaknesses in pacing and theme execution this arc. I'm always amazed that a 24-year-old has such a thorough understanding of people and relationship dynamics. Most of all, though, I'm so happy that Iori gets to be a classic morally upright shounen protagonist -nerfing herself fight the "enemy" on their level, facing things head-on with spirit, endangering herself to protect others- to contrast Chihiro's more modern dark and troubled take... without the baggage of being a girl! She's just a kid doing her best with the shitty circumstances she's found herself in. Another author might put emphasis on how she's still a girl despite her shounen characteristics by showing her venting to dolls instead or being extremely cutesy, for example. But Iori's just straight up challenging her dad to "competitions" with training swords and knives and trying to learn how to fight like he does. I adore this kind of writing so so much!

I'm also a big fan of how this chapter was used to quickly explain how Iori could fight while still focusing mostly on how she was "competing" with her dad to vent her anger like little kids do. She's got a firecracker personality and heaps of stubbornness to see her through tough times, but she's still just an 8-year-old kid who loves and worries about her mom very much. So she processes it through trying to get on the same level as her enemy, her deadbeat dad. At least Samura finally realises it's a great way to keep her distracted from her mom's situation! He starts looking to the future at last thanks to Iori dragging him out of his own head. Not a moment too soon, either because...

A dad who recalled his wife's last words and decided to embrace what he'd been avoiding all this time... if Kyora had a will of adamant, then Samura's is far more brittle- but that's not always a bad thing.

He's not a great parent all of a sudden but his heart's finally in it to try, at least. And that's what Iori needs most in the moment.

Chapters like this are the core of what makes me so invested in Kagurabachi. Examining legacy, trauma, and other painful burdens through the lens of parenthood is where this series truly shines. All the kids in the main cast have deeply flawed parents who passed on their pain to them unwittingly, and now they have to figure out how to grapple with it while the Hishaku are plotting dastardly deeds. For me, Kagurabachi is a riveting story of musing on how legacy affects everyone differently and it just so happens to use stellar action scenes to tell the story most of the time. It's what makes more grounded chapters like this stand out and hit all the harder.

Short Detour: On Character Names and Kanji

I mentioned it before so I kind of want to yap about it a bit. It's funny to joke that Hokazono-sensei only names characters at gunpoint, and there's some merit to it with how often we're left hanging, but I think he's quite deliberate about it in certain cases.

For instance, we knew who Chihiro was from the get-go obviously. He's the MC so he needs something for us to call him by. But it was only ever spelled as チヒロ [chihiro] in katakana until this flashback right before the "keep a cool head" moment during Char's rescue in chapter 14:

"It's great that you're so serious about what I teach you an' all. I appreciate that but... don't get too fixated. If you always try to follow in my footsteps, it'll be a waste that you were born as Chihiro Rokuhira".

That's when we saw the meaning behind his given name for the first time: 千鉱 [chihiro, "thousand ores"]. It's not something that can come across in English but the profundity of the moment is exceptional thanks to this small reveal. Chihiro is malleable and can become anything he wants- he has a thousand possibilities in front of him. He should choose his own path instead of strictly following in his father's footsteps. This is what allows him to bend Enten to his will and tap into the blade's True Realm.

The only other characters with names that we don't know the kanji of right now are Char (鏡 凪シャル), Hinao (ヒナオ), Kazane (真智カザネ), Iori (イヲリ), and Inori (イノリ). Everyone else has had the kanji stated, especially if all we know are their surnames/code names (like Azami, the Masumi, and Ikura). "Char" isn't a Japanese word or name to begin with so she'll always have the katakana most likely. Hinao is a mystery but also barely a character so I wonder if we'll see her again much at all anyway. Inori's in a similar boat as a one-chapter character that was used for Iori's tearjerker backstory. Kazane and Iori have the biggest chance of a reveal (assuming Kazane does come back of course). Especially Iori since she's hugely important to the story this arc. She's making a lot of parallels to Chihiro already as a fellow child of a famous Seitei War "hero" with skeletons in their closet, so it would be cool to see a kanji reveal happen at another deeply emotional moment for her. I'll definitely make a note of it if it happens!

Anyway, back to the chapter.

Samura Seiichi, John "Yura" Hishaku, and Sin

[starts foaming at the mouth]

UOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH DON'T TEASE ME LIKE THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAH. YOU CAN'T GIVE ME A PAGE LIKE THIS THEN SAY "KEEP WAITING, LOSER"!

I'm vibrating in my seat, frothing at the mouth, internally flailing and screaming, champing at the bit. I swear to God if we switch back to the present and don't follow up on this page next chapter I am going to fucking explode from an apoplectic fit. It's not just from being strung along with Seitei War lore tidbits for so long either.

There are no world-building tidbits that can get me more interested in a work than post-apocalyptic imagery of cities being overrun with nature. I will dive head-first into anything that has this kind of shit no questions asked- I'm a fucking addict. Forget 2B's lovingly rendered 3 ton ass, I played Nier: Automata because of the atmosphere while running around in destroyed cities. Lord of the Rings is my ultimate comfort read because of all the ruins with deep lore scattered around. I forgive a lot of the flaws in the Xenoblade Chronicles series because it uses this imagery in every game. I even kept confronting my thalassophobia to get through all of Outer Wilds because of this stuff.

The iris and lily flowers in view make it obvious that this is Magatsumi's handiwork and boy howdy do I need to know all about it. Did this happen on the small island that supposedly attacked Japan? Is it still like this today? Or, given John's dialogue, is this something that will come to pass later on? I need to know. I've been edged on this for so long and now I've been served imagery that makes me certifiably, obsessively insane once more so please. Author.

Hokazono-sensei.

Listen to me.

I'm sincerely begging you here:

Let me cum.

Samura, though... oh jeez. Samura. What are you doing man.

Chapter 51. Going to keep this scene in mind as we learn more info.

This scene with Chihiro and Shiba ocurred years after Samura met John for the first time. I ended up making a colour-coded major event timeline just to be sure I wasn't crazy thinking this was pretty whack of Samura. The relevant flow for this is: 22 years prior: Small island nation allegedly appears in the south-east seas 20 years prior: Seitei War begins 18 years prior: Seitei War ends ~17 years prior: Iori born 9 years prior: Inori hospitalised, Iori taken in by Samura 8 years prior: Inori dies, Samura meets John 5~4 years prior: Chihiro meets Samura & goes to his home 3 years prior: Kunishige murdered & blades stolen, Samura makes pact with John 2 years prior: Iori's memories sealed Oct. 5th in present year: Story start

We don't know what John and Samura talked about yet- maybe John didn't give Samura all the info, maybe Samura wasn't on board until after Kunishige was murdered (that's when he made that pact with the pinky ring after all). But holy shit he knew some bad stuff was happening and maybe even knew that Kunishige was going to die. Maybe he already felt that the Bearers all need to go, too. But he only warned Chihiro away from following his path and told him not to admire him. This man is so fucking complex!

Tear track scars again... (chapter 58)

There's also the matter of that pinky promise. My working theory is as follows: whatever John told him had Samura at least somewhat sympathetic to their plans. But he wasn't convinced to act until Kunishige was killed and Chihiro effectively orphaned. That was what brought his desire to save the "future" (Iori) into focus through the lens of the past he can't bring himself to move on from- he decided to end things on his own terms because he saw the same thing happening to his own kid no matter what and wanted to spare her from the pain of losing both of her parents (and his inadequacies as a father/person). So he had her memories sealed to let her live a normal, happy life while he worked with the Hishaku to root out evil in honour of Kunishige's ideals. "Evil" in this case being the Bearers, the Hishaku, the Hishaku's mole, and then himself. I hope this pans out but I'll be happy if I'm wrong too, of course. The author is the best one to tell his story.

Kyora's still my favourite villain so far but all these tragic shades of grey have me extremely invested in Samura. Honestly, depending on how this arc goes, Samura might take the #1 spot. He doesn't have the bombast of Sojo or the personal resonance that Kyora does. Instead, Samura's a rich and incredibly compelling villain due to how much of a genuinely good guy he is. He's fucking up big time over and over again but it's for extremely human reasons. Who hasn't ever given in to wallow in grief and guilt for a spell? Who hasn't felt the effects of those feelings warping them, if ever so slightly? Imagine them compacting down and running rampant for years thanks to a horrible secret you can't share. There's still so much to uncover about Samura and the Seitei war but it's easy to understand how he ended up where he is.

This chapter was a great reminder of why I still read Kagurabachi and yap about it every week. Despite all my complaints about how the story is being told at the moment, the character writing is still top-notch. I hope we see all these puzzle pieces we were asked to keep in mind for 20+ chapters now start to fall into place! For now I think I'll start drafting some comparisons between Kunishige-Kyora-Samura and Chihiro-Hakuri-Iori, with the expectation (wish) that we get the full picture on Samura's motives sooner rather than later... Sojo really stands out as the first arc villain now since he doesn't have the parental ties to the core of the narrative that Kyora and Samura do. He was just a lens to examine Chihiro through, while Kyora and Samura build on Chihiro's character and examine another character's takes on the theme at the same time.

Okay! Hopefully the editor's comment isn't bait and we stay on the Seitei War Lore train next chapter too. Else I really will start malding. See you next time, kind void, and take care of yourself in the meantime.

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐇𝐄𝐗 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 9: WITCH!READER

din djarin x nightsister!reader | smut, 18+ | 1k words

summary: given the task to hunt down an enchantress renowned for her deviancy, din fails to understand just how hard this mission will be to complete.

cw: f!nightsister!reader. dub-con - seduction through enchantment. orgasm denial, threat of cumming untouched, fully clothed, grinding. very similar to something i've already written, but fancied revisiting it - still just as difficult the second time around!!

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 10: CHEATING ⇾

The coordinates handed to Din in the bounty puck Greef Karga had practically thrust into his palm like it carried a bad disease were cursed. The digits and numbers scrawled in blood red pixels across the screen of the Crest when he’d loaded the blasted things might as well have spelt out ❝ ur bantha fodder ❞.

In any other mission upon any other planet, the whole debacle might just have pulled a twitch of a smile behind the Beskar mask. But the crimson of the coordinate pixels are a dead ringer for the ruddy scarlet of your irises, and suddenly Din was struggling to find the humour in this lethal situation he’d miraculously and carelessly found himself in. 

Instead, Din watches a sinister smirk creep across your face, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Dire straits were never straighter than a Zabraki Night Sister on her home planet of Dathomir. 

“I cannot claim to have seen your kind here before,” your velvety voice trickles down Din’s spine. Admittedly, there's an inexplicable agitation dancing in his fingertips, suddenly unsure to the extent just how precarious this fragile stand-off was. Clenching his fists, he steels himself against your probing gaze and reminds himself of the Nightsister’s proximity to the force, and their ability to wield it. 

“I–”

“I know,” you muse, approaching Din with balanced, measured steps. “A member of the Bounty Hunter Guild. You don’t have to state your business.” 

Din’s teeth ache under the pressure with which he grinds his jaw. An impossible foe, he should have considered the risks before arriving on Dathomir. A Nightsister was the last target he could improvise his battle strategy for… 

“I do appreciate your desperation,” you hum softly, practically stalking around Din and tracing the silver surface of his Beskar armour with the tip of your index finger, “I am sure that the occupation allowed for frequent travelling. In turn, it protects the child.” 

A purge bomb could drop in utter silence and Din was almost certain he’d miss it, a rush of blood roaring in his ears as his heart rate lept. Your eyes find his own through the visor of his helmet with unsettling ease, given it obscured his face. 

The moment Din comes to realise he was truly outmatched, he finds himself unable to retreat.

“Hm,” you smile again, a glint of something cunning gleaming in your eyes as you watch him struggle, “I wouldn’t bother, Mandalorian.” 

A grumble of indignation twists violently on Din’s tongue, curdling into a gasp of pleasure. It’s barely there, almost silent, but the victory that dances in the voids of your eyes tells Din you heard it. 

“I must confess,” you murmur, watching as Din starts to feel his knees beginning to buckle at the pleasure that was bubbling beneath his skin, “I enjoy your vulnerability. I never imagined a man as imposing as yourself would be so easy to make mewl.”

If not for the phantom palm applying pressure to his cock, Din would have snapped back with some snarky comment. Instead, he feels entirely tongue tied, eyes rolling back as bliss almost split him down the middle.

“Though it leaves me little fun,” you admit solemnly, your eyes not quite matching your dispirited timbre, “I need to establish a new objective. Perhaps steaming up that visor of yours?” 

Finally buckling beneath the weight of the armour and his shuddering body, Din’s knees hit the dusty, red Dathomirian ground. He groans softly, cock straining in his pants as he watches you lean over him, studying every twitch and writhe of his arousal-riddled body. You seemed to appreciate the pathetic whine that builds in the back of his throat as he rocks his hips forwards, grinding his crotch into the seam of his trousers for some friction, anything to ease the agonising throb. 

“I usually make intruders suffer– though it’s customary to torture them with pain, I find pleasure makes a person far more malleable,” Din hears you address him with such ease, as though you hadn’t reduced him to a blubbering, trembling wreck with the mere thought of doing so. “This… Greef Karga. He’s aware of the bounty you seek, correct?”

“Ohh–” Din breathes and it’s pathetic. Almost like a wail, the sound travels across the open, rocky Dathomirian plains. You raise an eyebrow, prompting Din to speak– and it’s though the words fall from his loose tongue before he can trap them behind his lips. 

“Yes– He-fuck-he knows it’s y-you–,” the sound startles Din. His voice sounds unlike himself, breathy and gritty and desperate to cum- stars, he’s so desperate to cum!

He tries to stretch his thighs open wider, praying it will alleviate some of the building pressure, but his pelvis seems to have a mind of its own and starts to grind against the inseam of his flight-suit trousers that lays flat against his cock. The friction causes a gut-wrenching groan to rumble in his chest.

“Karga. I don’t suppose he sent you because he was too fearful to face me himself? Tell me, what was I deemed a fugitive for?” You muse, circling Din’s writhing body and prattling off a long list of potential reasons for the sextuple digit bounty hanging above your head. “There was the jedi I killed, that sith who inquired about my services– to which I didn’t realise I was aiding and abetting Emperor Palpatine, for your informati–”

“The assassin, Ventress–” Din grit out behind his teeth, cock pulsing in his trousers and threatening to empty his seed like a teenager. “He’s looking for her.”

He watches you pause, chest heaving while observing the surprise at this revelation. Three months ago, the guild had issued the ‘hit’. The bounty was for information instead of your head delivered to Greef Karga in a basket. None of them had ever been stupid enough to believe themselves strong enough to take on a Nightsister. 

“Now,” you grin, crouching to face Din eye-to-eye. There’s that gleam again, the teasing look in your ruby irises sparking arousal down his nerve endings with another strained moan. The building pressure, threatening to spill over and causing Din to vibrate with need cut out almost instantly, the teetering orgasm dying away with the sudden slump of his exhausted body. 

“Why didn’t you inquire about Ventress in the first place?” You hum gleefully, amused by the orgasm denial and relishing in having such a strong man beneath your feet, much to Din’s utter embarrassment. “It would have saved you a very steamy visor.”

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[aurora-313]

Heyyy,

I've tried and tried again to find the bright side of the ending and the Canon couples but I just can't. I don't even like the kids and thier designs are lacking. On top of that, I'm also dreading the day we get to see them in the anime🤦‍♀️

I've given up on the anime. It's glorified fanfiction, and honestly, nothing Kubo can do can really salvage it. Short of ripping Bleach apart from the very first arc and rebuilding it from scratch.

Franky the thing that I fail to comprehend is how Bleach went from "Monster of the week", where the monsters were fundamentally human in their hatred, desires, miseries and pains, to "let's kill/overthrow God and destroy reality".

Implausibly massive leap for a world that only consists of 3 towns and an empty void, wouldn't you say?

The dissonance is so jarring that it breaks suspension of disbelief. The cardinal sin of storytelling. That's why I don't enjoy TYBW. That's why the epilogue and the hell arcs make no impression on me.

A damning indictment of TYBW's quality as an arc is how forgettable it is. Remove it from the story entirely, and absolutely nothing would change.

There's a cult following in the west, sure, but that's all it has. Manga sales during TYBW tanked in Japan. Viewing figures in japan are in the toilet. The only thing keeping it afloat are diehard groupies who are easily distracted by shiny lights and crappy effects to hide how poorly composed it is.

The arc was utterly forgotten until the 2020 trailer dropped.

The storytelling is jank AF and the main villains are forgettable crybabies.

It's funny. By and large, I feel more emotional connection to three relative scrub Hollows from the shinigami sub arc, characters that only had a dozen chapters between them and viscerally hate them for how human their sadism is, but my eyes glaze over at the Sternritters. I barely remember any of their names.

The Quincy are boring. Yhwach is boring. There was an opportunity to salvage him by playing into the manga evidence he was a grifter who conquered, cursed, enslaved, and ate his way into power... but no. They replaced that with basic bitch daddy issues.

Then, there's artificially inflating Chad and Orihime's importance. The problem is that they're pathetically powerless humans by comparison.

Observe their first encounter with Quilge. Weak in the grand scheme of things, Quilge was casually stripping chunks of flesh off them. Compared to the feats the other Sternritters pull off, what can Chad and Orihime really do? Realistically. What CAN they do? The answer is nothing and worse than nothing.

Chad and Orihime, civilians who use reishi-based attacks, against an army whose been training for years-to-centuries, who dominate reishi as easily as breathing. No amount of training can change the fact they're a stupendously bad match-up against the Quincy. They realised their presence is pouring oil on a fire and thought the solution was to pour even MORE oil on the fire.

Tbqh. Ichigo should've put his foot down and told them to leave with Riruka and Yukio. Chad and Orihime simply cannot keep up with Ichigo anymore. Ichigo had left them completely in the dirt after Soul Society, and the rest of the series is Chad and Orihime in denial about that.

Why does Ichigo have to go through this exhaustive humiliation of a character arc, thanks to his elders leaving him to stew in ignorance, while Chad and Orihime got a free pass? And are ultimately rewarded for living in denial.

Want them to grow? Have them confront and accept Ichigo simply doesn't need them anymore. Have them accept their place isn't on his battlefield but protecting their mutual home. Have them accept they are mortals tangling with gods and demons, and they are in way over their heads.

The only plausible reason Ichigo DOES keep them around is cannon fodder.

As for the endgame ships; I don't want to talk about them, except that Ichigo should have categorically refused to have children on principle. After the shit his heritage put him through, why would Ichigo subject another child to that?