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fioiswriting · 6 months ago

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The lust we share

Summary : When your husband takes you to Harrenhal, you meet his lover. And things don't turn out the way you thought they would.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x reader, Alys Rivers x Reader, Aemond x Reader x Alys

TW : pwp, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, light angst, threesome, unprotected sex, breeding kink (implied), praising kink, loss of virginity, not proofread.

Words count : 3652

AN : hi everyone!! How are you doing ? SO I know. I know I should be working on all my other works in progress BUT I had this idea and…Well. I had to write this. Who else is excited to see Alys??? Btw I’ve finished my exams and my internship, so I should have more time to write <3

Sorry, it’s filthy. As always.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

From the moment you see her, you're mesmerised by her striking beauty, which makes her mysterious and dangerous. There's something intriguing about her gaze, as if she's reading through you, and it sends shivers down your spine every time. She seems to pierce your soul, deciphering your deepest secrets, leaving you both entranced and unsettled. She moves with a graceful confidence, her long black curls bouncing behind her. You don't know where to look. She's mesmerising. Your gaze is relentlessly drawn back to her. She has curves where you don't. A confidence you don't have.

You can only see in her what you lack in yourself, and in a way, you understand Aemond.

But Alys is surprisingly gentle with you. Her eyes show a kind of pity. You were nervous, frightened, and the edges of your thumbs can testify to that. After all, Alys is the other woman. Or maybe it's you, the other woman. Alys was there before you, after all. And she exudes a confidence, a poise, a maturity that you'll never be able to match, as if she were able to bend anyone or anything to her will. You can see why they say she's a witch.

With you it's different. Alys is patient. You just don't like the pitying tone she uses when she talks to you, as if you were a frail little thing to be pitied, as if she's afraid to break you – but you're no doll. You're not made of glass. You don't need pity. She knows you had no choice. You were forced to follow your husband to Harrenhal. Maybe that’s why she pities you.

She wonders how you manage to stay by his side, when you know the horrors he's committed, and it's something you wonder too. Every step he takes is made of ashes and blood, and you know the cries still haunt the walls of Harrenhal. The blood is probably still fresh, soaking the cobblestones.

She's made a habit of brushing your hair, stroking your long curls, cradling you and talking to you, and there's something comforting about the way she mothers you. You seek solace in her arms, when your husband is distant. At least you are not alone.

Your marriage to Aemond is recent. She listens as you confide in her and caresses your head. You are young and frightened, and you know the King needed an alliance to continue the war - your father had military and financial support to offer him. Marrying into the Targaryen family is a privilege no one can refuse. And especially not when your husband is the Prince Regent.

"Does he treat you well?" Your gaze meets hers in the mirror, but you are quick to look away. There's something too sincere in looking into her eyes. You feel as if she can see into your soul, read the truth, reveal your secrets, and that makes you uncomfortable.

" He's cold. Distant," you reply. Because it's true, Aemond is caught up in the gears of war, and he doesn't have much time for you, but you accept the place he's given you. He has a need to control, you've noticed. He controls and owns and dictates the rules of the game. Maybe it's comforting, for him, maybe it's his way of coping. He never shows vulnerability, at least not to you.

"Does he satisfy you?" Your face immediately turns red. You don't know how to tell her that you haven't consummated the marriage yet. You got married in a hurry. You didn't have time for -

At least he insisted you accompany him to Harrenhal. He didn't want you waiting for him in the Red Keep, he wanted you close to him. Because you are his wife, he said.

"We... We didn't..." You babble. You search for your words. And then you see her smirk, a subtle hint of a smile, almost imperceptibly curling the corners of her lips. You hardly know her, it's strange to discuss such intimate matters with your husband's lover. She knows him better than you do. Perhaps he showed her vulnerability, perhaps she knows what scars his soul. You wonder what she's thinking. She's indecipherable. Alys is a mystery. She exudes a special aura.

" What a pity," is all Alys answers. She has finished combing your hair. She takes the strands that have fallen across your chest and pulls them back behind your back, admiring her work. You hardly recognise yourself. You look bold. Almost confident. Your cleavage is accentuated. You look pretty.

You let her fingers brush over your bare shoulders, the touch light and pleasant. She places the finishing touch around your neck; a sapphire necklace.

"Now you look like a future queen," she whispers, her lips painted red in the hollow of your ear, and you shiver. With desire or surprise, you don't really know. There's a kind of certainty in her voice that intrigues you. You're not quite sure what that is. For a brief moment, you have the feeling that you detect some truth in her words, and you say nothing. Her eyes are shining.

Perhaps there's a part of unspoken desire there that you keep hidden beneath your innocent appearance.

You feel your husband's burning gaze on you all evening. You are alone at dinner. The two of you. The servants have brought the dishes and left immediately. He's at the other end of the table, his head held high, separated from you by steaming plates that make your mouth water. He has barely spoken, but you know that Aemond is a man of few words. He's all about quality.

"You look beautiful."

You politely accept the compliment. You like to feel that he fancies you. But then again, who doesn't like compliments? You cut your meat, your movements precise and delicate, like the lady you've been taught to become all your life. You play your role to perfection, it's a form of comfort, at least.

"I'm pleased that you find me to your liking, husband."

He looks satisfied. A silence falls over you. You are still hesitant in his company. You still have to adjust to him. You need to know how far you can go. What are your possibilities and your limits.

" She's intriguing, your Alys. "Your voice doesn't sound quite the way you would like it to, and you blame yourself. It gives the impression that you're reproaching him. That's not what you want. He stares at you with his one good eye, unreadable.

"My Alys," he muses. "She is, indeed." He lets a doubt linger, and you regret having brought up the subject of Alys. "She sees much and more. She saw a future for me." He pauses. You raise your eyes to him, puzzled. "For us." You and him, he means. And for a split second, you wonder if this has anything to do with what she told you. A future queen. She said you looked like a future queen.

Your pulse quickens. The idea seems dizzying. But there are certain desires that should remain buried, you know it. You don't want to appear power-hungry, even if your core is burning at the thought of having the whole Kingdom at your feet.

Perhaps your husband can see it in your eyes.

Aemond wears the Conqueror's Crown on his head like the Prince Regent that he is, and you can't help but think that it suits him so well. It's what he is made for. He looks like a statue carved in marble, ethereal and suspended in time, the embodiment of Targaryen beauty and grace.

How can such an angelic face hide such a cruel man?

"But don't be jealous, wife." He continues in the face of your silence. His voice is cold. It cuts through the air like a sharp knife. "For it is you I have chosen to marry, and I intend to be a dutiful husband."

You feel your cheeks flush. He's watching you so intently. His good eye shines even brighter than the sapphire you know hides under his eye patch. You feel as if he's undressing you with his gaze.

"I want you, tonight."

The statement sends a wave of heat between your thighs. You know what he means. You want it too. But to hear him express his desire so clearly, as if leaving no room for discussion, awakens a familiar sensation in your core. Aemond wants to take what he wants, what is rightfully his, and you may be sick in your head because the idea excites you as much as it frightens you. He's dangerous. You know what he's done. And yet. And yet, you can't help but want him.

By the time the meal is over, he's already standing in front of you. Tall. He towers over you, and as he leans towards you, forcing your chin up with the tip of his forefinger, he whispers, "You wouldn't deny your husband, would you?"

Gods, you can feel your arousal forming between your thighs, spreading across the fabric of your underwear. He's looking at you, his purple eye burning with desire. Between his legs, a visible bulge is already stretching the linen fabric. You notice it easily; it reflects the hunger you can read in his eyes.

"I wouldn't. Not when you are already so desperate."

To back up your words, your eyes drop to his crotch. He clenches his jaw and remains silent for a moment. You wonder what he's thinking, what thoughts are racing through his brain right now. He looks at you with a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as if studying an unknown specimen. Maybe you've been too bold. Maybe he likes it.

"I bet you are already wet."

A shiver runs down your spine. He doesn't look away, not for a moment, and your eyes are relentlessly drawn to his, as if hypnotised.

" Check. "

He doesn't waste any time. His fingers run down your body, slipping under the thick layers of your dress - you're wearing green to please him, but it's not the colour of your house. They work their way up your leg, up the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps on your skin in a long shiver of pleasure. You feel him brush against your folds; a touch so light it's like a ghost. But isn't that his purpose, to haunt you in the depths of your soul? When he ventures between your warm folds, your teeth bite your lower lip to prevent the slightest sound from escaping your lips. You don't want to give him that privilege. You don't want to show him that you need him.

"Indeed, you are."

He captures your innermost essence with the tip of his finger and immediately withdraws his hand. His forefinger touches his thumb, and he inspects the transparent thread that stretches between his fingers. You look away. Your cheeks are flushed. You're burning with embarrassment at your body's betrayal. He wipes his fingers and straightens up as if nothing had happened.

"Be there when I call for you."

And with that, he leaves the room. You're left alone, staring at the flame dancing in the middle of a candle. Between your thighs, your centre throbs. Your husband is a mystery.

You are lying on the bed. Panting, you are drowning in a combination of feverish pleasure and anticipation of what is to come. Alys plants kisses on the back of your neck, spicy and intoxicating like the finest Dornish wine. Her fingers brush over your nipples, and with a deft movement, she rolls them between her forefinger and thumb, pinching them gently. She is behind you. You lie with your back against her full breasts, her legs on either side of your body. Her long black hair tickles your collarbones as she leans towards you, and an herbal scent wafts through the air; a mixture of sage and lavender.

Her lips were between your thighs a moment ago. With devotion, the tip of her tongue explored your still untouched womanhood, collecting the fruits of your desire, her fingers drawing circles against your entrance. She's experienced. She knows what she's doing. You've never felt anything like this before. And when your thighs have closed around her face, one of your hands buried in her thick mass of black hair, she welcomed your climax into her mouth. Her half-closed eyes looked up at you from under her long lashes, an enigmatic smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She seemed proud of herself, and of her work. You're sure she can still taste you on her lips.

When she had finished, she remained between your legs for a moment, tracing little circles on your lower stomach, her lips still glistening with your essence and her own saliva. Your chest rose and fell quickly. Red with embarrassment, you didn't dare meet her eyes and see the blatant traces of your shared sin still staining the lower part of her face. She let you catch your breath. Regain your senses. Come down from that little cloud you're still on.

It's Aemond who moves first. He stands and joins Alys, wiping what's left of your desire on her lips with his thumb. He looks satisfied. You wonder if he liked what he saw, if he liked seeing his wife tremble under the caresses of another. He pushes his thumb between Alys's lips, forcing her to taste you once more, and she sucks his finger with infinite compliance. You can see in their eyes that they know each other intimately, that he has already tasted her body. You can see it in their eyes, in the glances they exchange. You wonder if there has been more than carnal pleasure. You think there is. He kisses her chastely on the lips.

Aemond looks in your direction. He burns with desire, excitement and anticipation. You are about to become his and he can't hold back any longer. He needs to possess you.

"She did well," Alys murmurs, amused. "Give her a moment."

But he doesn't want to wait, he wants his wife. He undresses, and that's when Alys comes up behind you. She strokes your hair and whispers a series of praises into the hollow of your ear. You're cottony between her fingers, but your core is throbbing again at the thought of feeling your husband inside you.

"Open your legs," Aemond commands. And Alys gently spreads your thighs so that you reveal yourself to your husband.

Aemond details your body. Every part, from your lips to your breasts, from the valley between your breasts to your navel, and then the curve that leads to your centre. Alys follows the path of his gaze - her fingers on your nipples, and then her fingers running along your abdomen to your folds, caressing them gently. Her index and middle fingers slide between your flesh.

"Look how ready she is for you," Alys whispers to Aemond. You’re wet. His eyes are locked on you, right where you want him most. His member is hard, slightly curved against his belly, its angry red tip already leaking white beads.

And you are ready. You're just waiting for it. Desperately. The orgasm Alys gave you with her tongue has awakened a new, hungry desire in you. You stifle a moan that Alys encourages you to express with her lips along your throat.

Aemond leans over you, capturing your lips with his own. He nibbles at your lower lip. You feel his dominance, his need to own you. He's rough with his kiss, as if he's waited too long. Maybe he has.

You moan. Where Alys' body is soft and full of curves, Aemond's is angular and made of muscle.

"I want you," he whispers again against your lips. His fingers slide down your body, lingering on your breasts as he caresses your already erect nipples. Then he moves them between your thighs. He's meticulous with his movements. Precise. He traces your slit, spreads your folds to tease your little bud. You stifle another moan.

"And I can tell you want me too."

His fingers are against your entrance, which clenches around nothing as you feel him draw circles without ever entering you. It's frustrating. Slowly, he inserts a finger. You move your hips, desperate for more contact, desperate to welcome him deeper into you.

"Stay still," Aemond whispers, pressing down on your lower body. Behind you, Alys runs her hand through your curls. She strokes your long hair and when you move, she shushes you.

"You'll take what I give you," he adds, his lips against your jaw, his fingers inside you. "But if you are patient, you will be rewarded. I always reward good girls." You feel a slight stretch as a second finger enters you, and the sensation is delicious. Delicious, but not enough. Even when he starts to move his fingers back and forth - they are subtly crooked inside you, even when he traces the curve of your breast with his mouth, catching your nipple between his lips.

"You're doing well," Alys breathes, praising you. There's her body behind you, and Aemond's lips on your breasts, his fingers buried inside you, deep, and your body is on fire. But it's not enough.

"I'm ready," you moan. "Please."

Behind you, Alys chuckles softly, her chest rising and falling as she senses your desperation, senses your desperate need for more. The impatience of the youth, she thinks - for Aemond is like that, too. Impatient. Impulsive. She had to teach him as well. As Aemond withdraws his fingers and positions himself between your legs, you feel Alys hold your thighs apart. Her fingers are hot against your skin, but there's something soothing about having her against you, around you. Her presence calms the too-rapid beating of your heart - an inevitable form of apprehension at the thought of what is about to happen.

There's something strange about the idea of sharing such an intimate moment with your husband and his lover. It's not what you imagined, and yet you love the feeling of having them both against you. You're safe. You feel safe. The war can't reach you when you're between their bodies - it's a silly thought.

And then, his round tip rubs between your folds, testing your entrance. The contact is hot. When he finally enters you, the stretch catches you off guard, your fingers close in the sheets, then around Alys' arm.

"Fuck. You're tight." Aemond grunts.

The sensation is new and incredible - the slight pain you felt at first quickly dissipates, replaced by pleasure.

Soon you feel nothing else. Alys' hands leave your legs and move up your body. One hand on your breast, the other at the top of your folds, where she draws slow circles around your pearl. She knows what she's doing. She knows what she's doing, and so does Aemond. And there they are, both slaves to your own pleasure.

He sets his pace. She sets hers. You know you won't last long; your walls are already beginning to tighten around his member. You feel him so deep inside you, and there's this one spot, this one precise spot that he hits at a steady pace that makes you feel like you're seeing stars.

Soon your husband's movements become sloppy, messy.

"Fill your wife, Aemond." Alys whispers in a commanding tone, and there's something about hearing her give orders to your husband that sends a wave of warmth through your lower belly. She reaches out her hand, strokes his hair, his cheek. "You need an heir, don't you? So, spill your seed, I know you can." She addresses Aemond, but her honeyed voice echoes in your ears. You shiver, once more. The thought. The thought is -

You feel your release sweep through your body like a wave washing over you. You throw your head back against Alys, who is already kissing you. Her fingers leave your folds. Aemond brings them to his mouth - he cleans every trace of you that still stains her skin with a hm. It's filthy. It's indecent. But you're too far gone to think about that now.

All you can think of is Aemond's arms around your waist as he pulls you up so you're sitting on top of him, facing him, his forehead against yours, as he spills his seed deep inside you, white ropes painting your wombs. He holds you against him, his hands on your waist, the grip mean and possessive. You put your arms around his neck, your breasts pressed against his chest. And he holds you like that, against him, when his member stops throbbing between your inner walls, when he feels his member softening inside you. When you come to your senses, still high from your second release of the evening.

"Now you truly belong to me," he whispers against your lips, and all you can answer is "Yes, I do".

As you lie back, you can still feel the sticky combination of your two fluids dripping between your thighs. But your eyelids are already heavy - your lovemaking has exhausted you. Alys strokes your hair, under Aemond's watchful eye. He's still hesitant, despite what's happened between you - but it's hard for him to be vulnerable.

"You did well," she mutters, but she doesn't know if you can hear her or if you're already asleep. Aemond finally reaches out to caress your face with a gentleness you don't recognise; his thumb against your cheek. He's soft. You look so peaceful, asleep between them.

You are not sure what tomorrow will bring. You are not sure what the future holds. But when you close your eyes, your dreams are made of crowns and sapphires.

Ashes and flames too - but you'd rather forget that. Outside, the war still rages.

#aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #alys rivers #alys rivers x reader #alys x reader #aemond x y/n #hotd x reader #aemond x alys x reader #aemond x reader x alys #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #alysmond x reader

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muletia · 1 month ago

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Optimus should go more mad with longing more often. For MY entertainment.

You write great btw! Good for you!

thank you <333 i love making characters suffer from love

cw: implied stalking

word count: 406

Optimus drove past your house today. He set out on a routine patrol through Jasper, searching for alarming signs of Decepticon activity, but for some reason, his wheels carried him along a route too familiar to him. Humans would call this phenomenon muscle memory, an ability allowing them to perform actions unconsciously if repeated often enough. He did it out of a burning longing.

He knew the coordinates of your house by heart, having been in the area hundreds of times. At first, it was only for patrols, then for drop-offs, and once, for a visit when he had to recharge on your driveway due to unusually high Decepticon activity in the vicinity. And though he was glad you had a roof over your head—such a beautifully arranged one, too—a part of him detested this place. This was where your partings occurred, where he was forced to leave you to fend for yourself, exposed to danger. His paranoia screamed that the Decepticons could strike at any moment, that the second he took his optics off you, they would abduct you. They would take you, wrench you from his servos, and he would be powerless to stop it. They would destroy the primary reason he continued his miserable existence at all.

He knows he shouldn’t slow down as he nears the familiar building. He knows it’s unethical, another boundary he is crossing. But he must be sure you’re safe, that you’re still part of his life. It’s been so long since you were at the base (a week), so much time without messages, contact, certainty. Optimus wants to see you, to finally reassure himself that everything is fine. That you’re alive and haven’t forgotten him because he has thought of you constantly. A relentless stream of questions and uncertainties, but also warm memories, keeping him from descending into madness.

He wonders when the patrol stopped being a duty and started becoming personal. Did he pass your house by coincidence, or did he deliberately take this route, hoping to see you?

Ultimately, it all boils down to him being a naïve fool. Perhaps even a lunatic, spinning endless imaginary scenarios of moments you’ll never share. He drafts plans in his processor that will never come to fruition. And despite the constant disappointment, failures, and relentless fracturing of his spark, he still expects different outcomes, clinging desperately to a sliver of hope that this time, something—anything—will go his way.

#transformers #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #tfp #obsessed!optimus #be silly

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tentenarchive · 5 months ago

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In Defense of Tenten - the Chunin Exams' Written Test and Her Mirrors

A common joke made about Tenten is how obvious her mirror and line contraption, used to share answers with Rock Lee during the written exam, is. In this post, I'll show how her solution is perfectly reasonable and why she wasn't disqualified by the ninja proctors.

Firstly, we have to stablish what the objective of this written test is: to cheat. The written test was designed to be too difficult for ninjas of their level to be able to answer, forcing them to cheat from each other. Such is stated by Ibiki in the end of the First Phase chapters:

Next, the proctors are all higher level shinobi, better prepared and used to seeing various tricks and jutsu. It's not an stretch to suppose they're aware of EVERY cheating attempt made by those Genin, but were responsible for judging if their technique is too sloppy, obvious or ineffective.

My theory is supported by this scene, where Izumo eliminates one of the ninjas doing the test, claiming he took "five strikes".

It implies the competitors are allowed five errors before being disqualified, and one of the eliminated Genin makes it clear to the reader the "five strikes" are five times being caught cheating.

Naruto is also implied to be caught almost cheating when Hinata offers him her test answers (it can be interpreted either as Naruto being closely watched or Naruto's nerves making him think like that, half the proctors' job is to scare the Genin) and even then he is not automatically removed.

Tenten's technique may be obvious for us, as readers who have been shown by the author himself how she did it, but it's a single and successful attempt, and it's not commentated by any other characters, meaning no one caught on her besides the proctors, and they would only disqualify her if she did it more than once (which wasn't needed, she found the mole with all the answers!).

A pettier criticism i've "how isn't anyone seeing the lines?" to which the answer is very simple: manga is a visual media and the author needed the audience to understand how she was manipulating the mirror. If you take in consideration Tenten's fight with Temari in the anime - which is filler, btw, and it's up to you reading this to decide if it's a fair assessment on their abilities or not - she's shown using invisible lines to manipulate her weapons after throwing them. The lines are, conveniently, only visible when the animation needs us to understand how the weapons are moving backwards. Any other frame they're invisible.

You can see in the panel how the lines fade out towards the bottom and only show where they're attached to the mirror.

Finally: that's exactly what Ibiki expected the genin to do. There have been a few posts, specially on twitter, asking "how are you supposed to pass if you don't have a kekken genkai??". Like Tenten. That's how.

Kankuro and Tenten are the only characters which Kishimoto showed us cheating that didn't use an exclusive DNA super power. Kankuro and Tenten both use hidden threads, one uses chakra lines for puppetry and the last manipulates mirrors. They also pass their answers to their teammates, Temari and Lee.

(Sakura is the only confirmed character to do the entire test without cheating. Congrats Sakura!! You could argue Hinata used her byakuugan to cheat like Neji, but if you think she did it by herself, I will give you the pleasure of congratulating Hinata too. Congrats Hinata!)

Tenten's method was practical, and used her specific skill set: summoning and kunai work (where do you think the mirrors came from? a scroll, that's for sure). It was probably set up before the test started, during the commotion Team 7 created with their arrival. We're not shown it because Tenten is a tertiary character and Kishimoto wouldn't invest 2-3 panels of set up for a 3 panel sequence pay-off that works by itself very well. She is smart, did great and made sure her teammate was not left behind.

Tenten is not even the most absurd method used in this exam, so, as a treat, i will show you, in order, the most obvious cheats shown in the manga from least to most!

Sasuke's Sharingan If you're a ninja from the Leaf Village, you know who Sasuke Uchiha is and what a Sharingan is capable of. Unfortunally for him, the Exam is being held at the Leaf Village and all the jounin and chuunin there are from the Village. Any proctor looking at his direction in a position in front of him could see clearly his eyes and know exactly what he was doing.

Neji's Byukuugan Like the Sharigan, you can physhically see when it's activated, with the downgrade of being noticible by people sitting at up to 95º from him, as the veins are visible on the sides of his face too. A fair trade for the ability to see better than the Sharingan, even if you're not able to copy, in my personal opinion.

Ino's Mind Transfer Jutsu The jutsu's hand signal is simple and can be missed, but it's still obvious for any Konoha ninja watching, it is a very recognizable ability. There's also the higher chance of Ino being caught since she needs to do it three times (once for getting Sakura's answers, twice to pass them to Chouji and Shikamaru). Besides, the "dropping dead on the table" thing can be disruptive in a mostly silent classroom.

Akamaru and Kiba's communication Akamaru is barking all the way through the exam, and while the balloon used for the text is the one for thoughts, it's also the same used for whispered conversations up to this point in the manga. The anime makes the barks happen in the real world, and not in their thoughts, and as far as i could find, Kiba can understand dog language but there's no psychic talk between them. By the noise alone he could be caught. I think he wasn't expelled just because a full conversation between dog and human is a novel enough ability to not be considered by most ninjas unaware of the Inuzuka clan's special abilities.

The Most absurd one: Kakuro and his Puppet He put an entire guy no one knows and has never been seen in a room where all the authorities are from the same village and have, at least, a vague knowledge of each other's existence. To increase the absurdity, somehow everyone let Kankuro use his own puppet to guide himself to the bathroom. I cannot express enough how unlikely it is that, in a real info gathering mission inside a single room where all the higher rank ninjas are exclusively from the same village, Kakuro's plan could work. Most decent sensors could also catch the chakra line's signature.

I'll give it to him, making the puppet talk helps with the disguise, but it only fools his fellow attendees, not the proctors. He's too confident that he didn't raise any alarms.

But Ibiki goes as far as insinuating he knows (and has known from the start) about the puppet's existence when Kankuro comes back from the bathroom.

If Kankuro was able to finish the test and not get disqualified, even if he had what I consider the most obvious cheating attempt from the named characters shown, it's fair game for Tenten and all the other important cheaters. Besides, it's a single attempt at cheating, even if it required an entire prep work for it, so it doesn't matter if all the high level ninja's are aware, that's not enough to kick him out.

I cannot leave out the meta reasons why these characters weren't removed from the class: they're important to varying degrees to the story and they need to advance through the first phase to keep readers engaged.

Regardless of how absurd I think Kiba's and Kankuro's methods are, they need to go all the way to the fight tournament after the Forest of Death, where they have important roles to fill: Sasuke and Naruto are main characters and are prioritized by the narrative; Ino and Sakura will have an important character developments and flashbacks during their fight; Neji has an entire arc that only concludes all the way in his fight against Naruto; Kiba is the rival for Naruto in the surprise fighting tournament and he is one of the few characters able to match Naruto's silliness so he can win in a silly way; Kankuro and Tenten are both part of the two strongest cells present in the event, the Sand Siblings and Team Gai, both introduced as real threats to Team 7, and having anyone from these cells lose would undermine the narrative created around then. All of them would get through anyway.

Tenten losing against Temari in future parts of the Chuunin Exam has narrative importance too, a fight I will cover in the next In Defense of Tenten, but in short Tenten was introduced as a threat alongside Neji and Lee, her abilities and experience surpassing Team 7's. Having her lose against one the Sand Shinobi serves to show how big their gap in power is: if someone more experienced and well trained than them can't win against them, Team 7 has no chance. It's part of the build up for the future Naruto and Gaara fight, and the suspense about their real strength (since the fight doesn't exist in the manga, only the result is shown).

Conclusion: people are overly critical of Tenten because she's seen as a "lolcow" in the Naruto fandom, in part by the bad adaptation of her fight with Temari to the anime, which poisoned any feat of hers before and after it; but also because Naruto and Boruto don't give satisfying ends to any of the original female cast besides Hinata (she marries the man she loves and becomes a housewife away from the battlefield, an honorable decision i will never shit on, she never wanted to be a ninja and is a kind mother and wife, good for her!) so all female characters are seem as weak and useless when compared to their male peers. Naruto is a work riddled with undercover misogyny, never out right stated but always preventing the girls to achieve any meaningful resolution or permanent development.

That added to the ever expanding powerscalling abilities and fights make characters with simpler and down to earth abilities and feats outdated by its own universe. Knowing how big the Naruto fights and jutsu get in the future make people look down on crafty solutions like sealing scrolls, kunai and mirrors, when that is a perfectly respectable solution within the series and matches the powerlevel presented this early in the story.

Tenten is not weak, or bad, or useless. She's misrepresented by the most popular media consumed: the anime, and further misunderstood by the fans of said work. Large fandoms can be allergic to text interpretation and infighting is stimulated to the point fans of smaller characters are bullied off social media and forums (i.e. the forum where I got the list of all chapters Tenten is in is filled to the brim with comments about how OP should move the topic to "fan works" since no one would want to read about it in the canon work page, or how the mods shouldn't allow him to have a thread). I respect Tenten's feats, as well as other small characters', and refuse to be fed the same "uselessness" narrative this fandom always had, because i actually enjoy Naruto, even if i have many problems with it, and I take it seriously.

She did great.

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st4vk1nmybra1n · 2 months ago

Text

LOVE POTIONS !

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader Wc: 6.5k! Cont: implied fem!reader, reader is a witch! Suguru geto is an advisor for the king (who's Gojo obviously), kinda suggestive? Author's note: this has been in my draft for AGES and it feels fitting to post it right now! Happy Halloween to those of you who celebrate 🎃 hope you guys enjoy this! Also I'm like half asleep rn so if this is sloppy I'm going to punch myself<3 Hope u guys are on dark mode too btw cuz..

“Good heavens, Satoru will be paying me extra for this,” Suguru, king Gojo’s loyal advisor, grumbled under his breath as he weeded out through the crowds of the bustling village, attempting to look far and wide for that one bakery his friend adored. This was a common errand Suguru had to run, though it didn't help lessen the irritation.

His demeanor confident, stature tall, and figure clad in neat, pressed clothes only the most respected would wear.

Suguru was a man of much lure, put simply.

His father was a commander for the Gojo kingdom for his whole life, and so naturally, Suguru and Satoru grew up together. Suguru himself had been expected to take over his father's position, as would Satoru. The black haired male was talented, without a doubt, and it showed in the way he sparred. But Suguru's expertise ventured outside of the battlefield. His time was usually spent in the library, reading about different social, political, economic reforms, cultural norms, and all in all, Suguru was a natural when it came to social environments.

Satoru noticed this talent from the get-go.

So of course, Satoru, being good friends with Suguru, pushed for Suguru to be more of an advisor, persisting that it was something he needed. Suguru found himself inclined towards the idea more than being on the battlefield, but both his father and Satoru's father had been rather unamused by the notion. Satoru was persuasive, though.

And with a little more pushing, Suguru was Satoru's right hand man, second to him in command.

And while it was intriguing and vital for the most part, it often included errands like the ones he was currently running.

“Oh, dear!” Suguru snaps out of his thoughts with a jolt, having bumped into someone while he was lost in thought. As he looked down with the intent of apologizing, he stopped short in his tracks.

Glancing up at him was possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Thick lashes covered equally striking eyes, and Suguru felt his breath catching in his throat. The expression on your face was innocent, in a way that made Suguru's body heat up. He'd never seen you around in the time he grew up here, but if he had to guess from your appearance, he'd say you were the infamous witch the village spoke of. And to finally see you in the flesh..

“My sincerest apologies, miss. I got lost in thought, please forgive me,” Suguru sincerely apologized, holding out his hand to you. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile as you grabbed his hand in your own, and Suguru was acutely aware of just how soft your hands were.

“It's quite alright. It was partly my own mistake. My apologies, lord advisor,” your sultry voice murmured to Suguru, and two words flashed in his mind as he thought of your voice. Hauntingly bewitching.

Your voice was like driving a wedge into his skin, and seeping a magical healing liquid right over it. While it disgruntled him horribly, the relief that flooded his body was not normal. Suguru couldn't place his finger on it, but something about you was making him feel dizzy.

As you stood up with the help of his hand, he took note of your attire. A dark, long dress draped over your body, cinching and accentuating your waist with the deep, midnight blue corset you wore over the cloth. The sleeves of the dress were long, the sleeves stuck to your skin til your elbows, flaring out right after, adding a certain charm to your look. The sleeves were a net material, and the slight translucency made his mouth water at the cheeky peek of skin. Your nails were painted a dark, shiny black, sharpened like that of a cat's. You wore shiny, polished boots, carrying a dark bag over your shoulder.

“Lord advisor?” You snapped him out of his thoughts once more, tilting your head with a slight look of worry; plump, reddened lips pulled up in a pout of concern. Suguru needed to get away, as his senses were clouded with you. You, and your sweet scent, your beautiful features, your beautiful voice, and oh, your hand that was still in his.

“My sincerest apologies. I must go now, take care of yourself,” he rushed out the words, beginning his walk back towards the bakery.

“Until we meet again, my lord,” you smiled, eyes creasing up as you gave him a cheeky wave, a catty tone in your cooing voice not missed by Suguru.

“Oh, I'd be careful of her, lord advisor. She may end up.. haunting you,” a voice spoke up from his side, and he glanced up, raising a brow. “Oh, no, nothing! Just a word of advice..” the voice continues, nodding a farewell to him, and Suguru pauses, unsure of how to feel.

That night, as Suguru sat in his room with a glass of wine, he still couldn't let go of the fragments of your being lingering around in his mind. It was like if he closed his eyes for a moment too long, your soft figure would pop up in his mind, obscuring every other thought in his mind.

“A witch?” He mumbled to himself, running a hand through his thick hair. Witches were not uncommon during the era of royalty, and he'd read plenty of historical books involving witches and witchcraft. It was never a major subject in these writings, but they existed. Just as you did. But were you truly a witch? You just seemed so.. sweet. So nice, so beautiful–but perhaps that was a part of your charm–then Suguru must see to it that he has a chat with you.

For the betterment of the kingdom, he justifies himself as he lays down in bed that night, head filled with you.

Meanwhile, you yourself weren't faring too well yourself. Clutching your head in your hands, you resisted the urge to do anything, simply letting your thoughts dwell on the handsome advisor. You had your sights on him for the longest while, and the interaction today–no matter how short–had you swooning for the man, even more than you ever were. You bit your nail as you grinned, planning out your next “accident” with the man.

Perhaps casting a spell wouldn't be too bad. Maybe you'll save that for later!

Not that you were egotistical. Actually, maybe you were a little self assured, but what's the harm in that? You were very scrutinized for your craft, and it was ironic, really. Those who turned their noses up at you, judging you from between the slits that their eyes had formed into, were the same people coming into your abode, looking for a way to ruin the lives of the precious companion or the loving spouse they knew. Did you ever turn them down?

Of course not. Easy money is money, at the end of the day, isn't it?

You didn't have much of a care for what anyone had to say or how anyone felt because really, people talk. Whether you love it or hate it, they talk and will continue to talk. So you rejoiced in the attention. The rumors, the conversations, the path that would clear up in a rush whenever you walked. You laughed in the faces of those people who ‘spoke out’ against your unbecoming actions, knowing they would visit your home with some dazzling jewels, some spider eyes and herbs, and the brightest, shiniest coins in their houses, imploring that you try and understand that they respected you, they just had to maintain a reputation.

Whatever that meant, not that you bothered with it.

As you blew out the fire under your cauldron, you covered the top of it with a fabric, allowing it to cool. As you walked towards your bedroom, you heard a meow from the corner of the dim room, glowing eyes peering up at you. “Well hello there, my lovely!” You cooed out at your cat, watching as she jumped into your arms once you sat onto the plush of your bed, your grin widening as she blended in with your clothes, her black fur camouflaging her expertly.

“Could you fetch me some frog legs tomorrow, deary?” You mumbled to the feline, and she purred, bumping her head against your hand that was petting her soft fur. “You're just the sweetest, aren't you?” You smiled, kissing her head as you blew out your bedside candle, snuggling into your bed for the night, your adorable cat snuggled up on the edge of the bed.

The next day, you wandered around the markets, searching for some ingredients for a new recipe you wanted to try. Who knew witchcraft could turn you into a good cook?

“I don't sell to witches like you,” a shopkeeper sneered at you, scoffing.

You smiled innocently, batting your lashes. “What, you sell to the uglier witches with the wrinkles and the green skin?” You questioned, canines peeking out as your smile grew.

“Scram. I don't want you using my crops for your little spells. You're pathetic, truly.” The man argued back, growing more and more angrier by the moment.

“Oh, I wish some carrots and tomatoes could craft up a spell that would make you less of a whiney vermin, but alas, vegetables are unfortunately not the most helpful in my craft. I prefer using hair, blood, maybe frog eggs, or the scat of a mutt. But that's only if I really don't like you. And I really don't like you,” you mused, shaking your head at him.

The shopkeeper, appalled at the nerve you had to even say anything to his face, raised his hand, ready to strike you. But before he could, a veiny hand interrupted his wrist that inched closer and closer to its target.

“I wouldn't lay my hands on a lady, sir.” Suguru, who had been observing from the side, stepped in, eyes remaining sharp.

The other man cowers at the sight, mumbling an apology. “Advisor Geto.. I sincerely apologize, but this woman.. she ruins the lives of our people, you must understand! She is filth that stains our country, she's a good for nothing wench!” He yells out, brows furrowed at you.

“Hey! You people shower once in a blue moon! However, I happen to shower everyday! I know you think it is because I'm working with blood but it's actually because I'm not disgusting! Unlike the likes of you! I am not filth!” You defend rather unseriously, already fed up with the conversation. The shopkeeper gaped, glancing up at Suguru, as if to ask if you were serious.

“That's enough from you. Give the lady the vegetables. I'll pay.” Suguru sighs, crossing his arms.

You nod, mirroring his stance. “Saves you the blood money, as you like to call it.” You add with a hum, and the man at the stall has to stop himself from shutting down his stall as a whole.

As he hands you the vegetables, you take them into your large bag, squealing in excitement as Suguru paid for the vegetables. You lean up towards him, hands grasping his muscular arm. “Oh, why thank you, my lord! It's tough out here for a lady like myself!” You smiled sweetly, and Suguru raised a brow.

“A lady like yourself? Like one who hexes those around her?” He asked sarcastically, and you let out a laugh, shaking your head.

“What would I gain from causing harm to people for no reason, my lord?” You questioned him back as you both walked towards another stall, this time purchasing some bread from a lady who surprisingly did not refuse you. She was apparently the only one who realized that business is business regardless of whom you're selling to. Which is why you always give her an extra coin.

“How do you think I can afford to live in this era, my lord? Surely you understand why I'm even able to buy anything at all.” You pointed out once more, keeping your arm looped around his.

Suguru let out a hum, catching onto your drift. “Because you have people who seek you out. Isn't that right?” and you smile, giving him nothing else to go off of.

“Are you occupied for the day, my lord?” You inquire with a glance up at him, and he ponders for a moment, shaking his head.

“No. I have a free day.”

And your smile grows wider, somehow even sweeter in Suguru's eyes. “Then, may I be so gracious as to invite you to a meal at my house? I assure you, I'm plenty good at cooking! I'll leave out the potions and spells just for you.” You give him a cheeky wink, and he weighs out his options.

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt.” He shrugs, and your smile seems much more genuine for a moment.

“Perfect! I'm making sandwiches and soup today! I hope you're okay with that. And with cats. I have a cute little feline friend waiting for me at home.” You spoke lightheartedly, glancing up at him. “Would you be alright with coming right now? Or would you perhaps wish to come later?”

“Now is fine. Lead the way.” he holds out a hand towards the path, and you nod, looking straight ahead as the people around you stared in awe. The king's advisor? And the town's witch? Walking together, arm in arm?! Surely something must be wrong here. The people really couldn't believe their eyes. They never expected such an outcome, and you simply walked on, not paying any mind to them.

“Does witchcraft run in the family?” Suguru asks as you guys separate from the others, and you hum, smiling.

“My father was a medic. Mother practiced witchcraft, however. It was definitely an amusing combination.” You nod, glancing up at him through your lashes.

Interesting.

“So, you chose witchcraft as what you wished to do?” He asked further, and you raised a brow.

Smile still as cheeky as ever, you asked. “My, can I not do both?” You asked innocently, and Suguru huffed out a laugh.

How ironic.

“Medics save lives. Witchcraft takes them,” he answers, sharp eyes meeting your own. Suguru was having a hard time even understanding what you meant, but he tried either way.

“And what makes you say that? A medic may not always save a life. Witchcraft is not all hexes and curses, there's more to it than just death and doom. A lot more,” you argue back, scoffing at his words.

He raises a brow this time, as if amused. “How come?”

“Well, for obvious reasons, I think it's safe to say that in most cases you want the other person to suffer. Or if it's a different type of spell, it's something unhealthy. Or a minor inconvenience. Something of the sorts,” you explain, and Suguru nods his head.

“To that I ask, is that not cruel? Do you feel any remorse or regret in these actions?” he continues, and you hum.

Of course, many would ask such a question. The ironic part is that many don't realize that the only reason you're even able to keep this up is because of the monstrous emotions that they foster in their hearts. Greed, lust, envy. And the most inherent part of it all; love. Love was the driving force for many of these scenarios. The people of your town loved to parade about their morality in the face of their own peers, only to turn around and ask favors from you.

Maybe you were instilling a way for them to release their hatred into an outlet, but even if you weren't doing what you do, they'd still find a way.

Looking back at Suguru, you raise an earnest brow. “And to that I ask you, am I really the evil here? Perhaps I'm giving them a means for their malicious intent but really, are your people not the ones vying for a chance to see their so-called friends suffering, right outside my doorstep? Remember, I'm not forcing or coercing anyone into seeking me out. I can manage very well without customers, I could wreak havoc. But I exist, and that is enough reason for those that are desperate.” You grin, and Suguru sighs, opting to glance around the overgrown grass near your home.

Ostracized by your own people, huh? Suguru thinks to himself, having suspected as much.

“Here we are. Isn't it just beautiful here?” You grin, guiding him towards the entrance of your rather concealed home.

Typical, he sighed.

As you entered the home, turning to speak to the king's advisor, you were rudely interrupted by him suddenly grabbing onto you, pinning you against your door.

A hand tangles into your hair, pulling it hard enough to glare at your face. “So, reveal your intentions. You think it is that easy to bait me into your home and have your way? Seduce me? Tell me, witch. What is it that you want from me? From the king?” He declares, not even asking, just demanding an answer.

And instead of feeling fear, you felt.. exhilarated. His grip on your scalp was deliciously painful, and you hastily bit your lip to hold back a noise that alluded to your arousal.

“Sir Suguru, if I may?” You asked, and he blinked, urging you to continue. “What makes you think I've bad intentions? That my plan is.. not so innocent? What if I feel inclined to you, and wish to chat with you inside my humble abode?”

And Suguru lets out a laugh. A husky, mocking laugh.

“You? A chat with me? An innocent one at that? Let's face it. You've intentions that are far from sweet.” He sneers, and you let out a small whine as he pulls at your hair even more, his other hand pinning your arms against your back, forcing your body into a mean arch.

You squirm against his hold, and he only further tightens it, most likely even bruising you. “My, this is rather raunchy, wouldn't you say, my lord? The hold you have on me is quite.. lewd, if I may observe.. and didn't you chastise the shopkeeper for laying his hands on a lady?” you grinned, and Suguru's eyes sharpened.

“Do you think you're in a position to be joking? You will be punished for the spell you've cast on me.” Your brows raise in surprise at his words, and you turn to face him.

“A spell? On you?” You ask, clearly amused at the thought.

Suguru feels himself getting more and more agitated as you pretend otherwise. “Drop the act. You spoke of love and lust potions earlier. I know you've done something.” He accuses you even further, hissing into your ear.

You feel yourself smiling despite the searing pain coursing through the nerves in your head at his vicious grip, letting out a laugh. “I don't know if I should be flattered that you feel such an attraction to me, or be offended that you've accused me of casting a spell.”

Suguru grits his teeth at your words, letting go of your arms to reach out to grab your cheeks between his large hand, turning your head to face him. As his other hand tightens around your hair, tugging it further to angle your head, he looks deep into your eyes.

“Listen, witch. I am not fooled by you, nor will I believe your stupid excuses. Tell me the truth, and only the truth.” He hisses, venom seeping through each word he spat out.

At the blatant disrespect, you feel your body waver with pleasure. Though, you were feeling a small seed of irritation planted into you. “I understand you're very sharp and quick on your toes, but allow me to explain myself at least.” You mumble out through your squished cheeks, giving him a glance through the side of your eyes.

“Speak. But only under my grasp.” He orders, letting go of your face to continue pinning you against the door.

You let out a sigh, constructing your thoughts into proper sentences. “I'll explain as best as I can. So you think I've casted a spell of seduction on you, my lord? For perhaps trying to manipulate you into doing harm against the king?” You question, but you don't allow him to answer. “I can very much defend my case in all scenarios you can think of.” You state confidently, letting out a sigh. “First, the most important thing to mention is that to cast a spell on you, I'd need very personal information and belongings of yours. Like hair, blood, lashes, and perhaps other bodily fluids,” you grin, and Suguru has to will himself to not feel flustered at your implications.

“And with our one interaction, I could not have gathered any of that. Not nearly enough. And if this were the doing of another person, then we would not be here in the first place. I would come clean and tell you if anyone else has it out for you, I don't gain anything from keeping secrecy. I'm not afraid of outing the business of others when it comes to me, because my business is not one of dignity to begin with,” you answer transparently, and Suguru knows it's most likely not a bluff.

“And for love spells, they're quite weak. To get a stronger one, I need expensive, rare ingredients. And those are usually provided to me by the people seeking out such spells. I don't go out that often to actively search for them. It's much too laborious. A much more effective method is a love potion. It's a spell in the form of a liquid, which can either be given to you in potion form or mixed into another drink or food. And for that you'd need to be consuming something given to you by me. And under the security of being in the palace, it's quite near impossible. And considering the only reason you believe that I've done anything is because of our prior interaction, it wouldn't be wrong of me to say that I've not done anything to you. If I needed to cause harm to this place, it wouldn't be possible without someone influential involved with me. And plus, I grew up here! Why would there be a reason to overthrow the kingdom or turn this place into ruins?” You continue, making points that Suguru knows are not that easy to form a counter argument towards.

“And might I add, even if i were to cast a spell on you somehow, or have you consume a love potion, the effects would be much more severe, I assure you. It wouldn't be fleeted thoughts, it would be primal urges to ravage and ruin me. Or to completely submit and give up your conscience to me.” You add with a small, barely visible smile, and Suguru feels his breath grow more labored at your words. “I can give an example.”

At this, Suguru's attention is caught. “And what would that be?”

“Before we continue, mind letting go of my hair? My scalp is quite strong but I fear you may be stronger. I'd rather not test that.” You jested, and Suguru sighed, letting go of your hair. You let out a moan of relief, breathing out deeply.

“Right. So the royal knight the kingdom had a few years back? The oh-so dedicated knight, ready to give up his life for his king.” you quipped, and Suguru felt his stare harden.

Of course he remembers the knight. Very clearly. He was very dedicated and never showed any signs of anything otherwise. But he'd left very suddenly and got married, abandoning his duties. Was that a result of your doings?

“Well, a lady had visited me in the late hours, expressing her interest in the man. She'd conversed with him a handful of times, but her admiration ran deep. Much too deep. And she asked for a love potion. And so I gave her one, and she mixed it into a blueberry pie for him. And not even a day later, he'd run off with her and marry her. And now the couple has seven children!” You narrated dramatically, finishing off with a closed eye smile, as if happy for their ‘love’ for one another.

“But really, they aren't passionate about having children. That's not why they have children. It's about the act of conceiving children. The process of making a child is what draws the knight to his wife. Little does he know it's a result of a potion,” you huffed, shrugging.

Suguru was bewildered by your words. Not at the fact that you'd done that, but at the fact that you were willing to talk about their.. unhealthy amount of children. In the span of just a little over a decade. As if sensing his shock, you raised a brow. “What? It's true! I think he must've developed a fancying for breeding–” and he cut you off with a hand over your mouth, attempting to think of what to even say to you.

“Him running away was because of you?” he snapped, and you narrowed your eyes.

“No. It was not.” You answer, tone eerily calm. Calmer than your usual cheeky tone. “Because according to the royal law, my business is under fair use. If I've stated the severity of what I sell and have advised them that I will be telling on them if asked, and if I've made it clear that while my witchcraft is effective, any side effects and consequences is their responsibility, then it is fair use. And if you look at the contracts I've made them sign, you'll see that same information. I'm not obligated to keep their business a secret in situations where push comes to shove, and they are okay with that.” you asserted with a certainty that shocked Suguru, and he took a moment to articulate his own thoughts.

“And why would I believe you?” Suguru continued, and you glanced back up, unamused.

“The contracts are all placed in the chest by the corner,” you nod your head towards a chest in the corner of your home, placed by a bookshelf. “And beside that I have books on witchcraft, and a shelf with my own recipes and observations. Feel free to look through everything.” Your hands squirmed around in his now loosened grip on your wrists, and Suguru paused, taking note of the ingredients stacked on the walls. In the opposite corner, there was a fireplace, with another fireplace beside it, this time with a cauldron on top. For your witchcraft, he hypothesized.

“Those are some items I've collected over the years. For rare spells, common spells, all sorts. Some are given to me by my customers, some I've collected on my own over the years. While I can usually find a lot of items out in the open, some of them involve certain.. parts of each item which I'd have to source from the people of the town. And those can be quite a hefty penny. I wouldn't be gaining much profit from making a love potion to use on you.” You explained as Suguru let go of you, rubbing your wrists that were now bruised. Not that you were complaining, you found it exciting that the advisor had marked you in such a way. Suguru continued looking around, stiffening as he felt something rub against his leg. With a quick glance down, Suguru's eyes squint, taking note of a small, fluffy black cat rubbing up against his leg.

“That's my cat. She seems to like you. She must take after me,” you zinged, and Suguru raised a brow, trying not to show his amusement at the situation. “Here, let me take your coat, lord Suguru.” You grin, helping him shrug off his coat. Suguru tries not to squirm at the feeling of your hands roaming over his muscled back and arms. You take the coat onto your arm, then hang it over the coat hanger you had by the doorway.

“I'll be looking around, then.” Suguru announced, making his way towards the bookshelf. He begins to look through your recipe books. He noted the way you wrote down each spell with a diagram of each ingredient, fixed with witty comments and doodles. Your recipe books oozed with the same charm that you possessed, and Suguru found it rather.. entertaining, to say the least.

“Could I get you some water? Perhaps something to eat? The sandwiches won't take time to make, and you can stick around for soup!” You spoke with a delight in your tone, carefully filling up a glass with water for him.

Suguru glanced up at you, and this time you could make out the playful look on his face, just barely. “And what if you've cast a spell on it, or worse, mixed it with a potion?” he asked, tone sarcastic.

You let out a euphoric laugh, the sound so beautiful that Suguru could listen to it for days on end. Carefully, you bring the glass up to your lips, taking a small sip. The water drips down your lips, down your neck. You smile, raising a brow. “I'm not immune to any spells I create. There. I took a sip, it's safe to consume.” You cheekily commented, handing him the glass. The sheen gloss that you'd layered over your lips had transferred onto the cup, and Suguru glanced away as he took a sip from the water, lips delicately placed over the same spot that was marked with your lipstick.

As expected, the water goes down easily through his throat, and he's surprisingly not hexed! Wiping the excess water from his lips, Suguru hands you back the cup to continue skimming through your books. As it seemed, everything you'd said earlier had turned out to be true.

“What? Feeling lovestruck, my lord?” Tone playful and teasing, you cut your bread into a few slices, placing the rest of the loaf to the side. The black haired man scoffs, shaking his head at your words.

As you continue making your sandwich, Suguru busies himself with the task at hand. And that was–well, he wasn't sure himself. At first it felt like a way of ensuring that you weren't actively looking to ruin his life or the king's life, but now he just found himself admiring your handwriting and your cheeky remarks.

There was something oddly charming about your way of writing; just like your appearance and everything else about you, at that. You had little doodles of your cat on some pages, depicting said feline with a speech bubble to give you reminders on how to not pour all your spider eyes into your cauldron all at once, but rather one at a time. Or how you have to be careful with how many frog legs you put into your potion of melancholia, lest you want another dead person. Wait--

You've killed someone from your potions before?” Suguru's voice cuts through the silence, and you shrug.

“Whoops.” You answer cheerily, delicately placing tomatoes over your bread.

Suguru glances up in disbelief. “Whoops? You killed an innocent person and you're saying whoops?”

“He wasn't innocent. His wife came to me because he was.. abusive. She wanted him in depression, and apparently the potion was strong enough for him to take his own life. Oh well,” you shrug, and Suguru paused.

“And she couldn't inform the king or at the very least, me?” He questioned, oddly enough. He knew his question was a little stupid, but he asked anyway.

You let out a laugh at the question, raising a brow at him. “In a world where women are taught to know their place and not speak up against a man? She was afraid of telling anyone. That's why she resorted to the means she took.” You answered, tone resolute. You were certain that the man deserved what he got, and you didn't see why Suguru seemed to care so much. “If our world cared more about our people, maybe we would not have to resort to such extreme measurements. Everything is done for survival, and if the higher power can't promise it, then someone else, or something else will.” You state plainly, as if it were an obvious truth.

“Still. Taking a life?” Suguru pressed further, and you paused.

With a sigh, you pause your sandwich assembly and turn to him. “Look, the potion wasn't supposed to kill him! If she wanted to kill him, she'd use a different potion! Not the melancholic one!” You defended, adamant on your innocence, ironically enough.

“You have potions to kill people?!” Suguru asked again, frantically looking through your book.

“Yes I do, my lord. Believe it or not, I am a witch, and thus I am not all goody goody.” You answered in amusement, to which Suguru grimaced.

He pauses, crossing his arms. “That's.. not that I didn't already expect such a thing, but.. I'm disappointed.” He sighs, shaking his head.

“And why is that? You and your people prepare for warfare over land and other disputes, killing one another. And that loss of life is an honor, a deliverance. And you imprison those who have openly wronged many, but what of those who work silently? And of those women who are afraid to speak up against what they go through in fear of isolation and hatred? What of those? If I take the life of a man who was simply a bug in this world, why is that a sin? Something vile?” You interrogate, making Suguru freeze.

“Because we are serving the country.” Suguru argued back, to which you hum.

Finishing up the two sandwiches, you cut them and place them into plates. “Are you, though? Does the country not include women being assaulted? By people they know? By husbands? By strangers? When will you serve them? And who will serve them?” There's an unreadable look in your eyes as you speak, and Suguru pauses.

“Perhaps we'll have to look into supporting the women of our nation more, you're right. But killing men is not the solution.” The black haired man explained, nodding at you.

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, please! You'll put me to sleep with all this boring talk of worthless men.” You dramatically drawled, and Suguru glared at you, gaze pointed.

Suddenly, your sly grin returned on your face, and you tilted your head. “What if I've never actually killed anyone? And what if it was a bluff, just to get you to acknowledge women?” You teased, unable to hold back the tease in your voice.

“Is that why you mentioned not causing another death, in your book?” Suguru sarcastically asked, to which you burst into laughter.

“You're so trusting of my word, my lord. It's flattering. How about you put the book down for the meal, now.” You whispered to him, taking the book out of his hands to place it back into its original spot. You take his hand, guiding him into a chair on your dining table. Your fingers rest against his shoulders, featherlight touches caressing the skin with a familiar sensuality.

“Here,” you whisper sweetly, pressing the sandwich to his lips. As he opened his mouth to take a bite, your own lips parted in tandem, eyes zeroed in on Suguru's movement. The tension in the room was undeniably palpable, and Suguru felt his will straining. “Good?” You asked, head tilting.

Suguru closed his eyes, chewing carefully on the food. Your addicting perfume was clouding his senses, and he felt himself being enveloped in you.

“How long have you had her? Your cat, I mean.” Suguru opts to say, and you wipe his lip to remove the sauce dripping down, and you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking it cheekily.

“Ever since she was a little baby. She wandered into my home, she was all feisty. And I had my own worries. We both minded our own business, and I'd lay out some food for her. She would still try to fight me over it though,” you let out a snicker, remembering how she had a habit of biting and scratching you in the start. “But eventually, she brought me a dead mouse as a peace offering! And it was just what I needed for my potion!” You smiled, leaning down to coddle your feline baby.

“I should be going soon.” He mumbled, and your glossy lips formed into another pout.

You stand back up, leaning against the table as you glanced down at his seated form. “So soon, my lord?” you tilt your head, crossing your arms.

Suguru glances up, feeling odd at the emotions running through his body of having to look up at you, instead of his usual towering over others. His eyes focus on your form, your body molding against the table, your figure almost sat atop the table.

“Eyes are up here, my lord. I'm afraid you're staring somewhere quite frisky.” You teased, and Suguru froze up, averting his gaze as he began to eat his sandwich once more.

Your fingers drum against the table, nails clicking rhythmically against the wooden surface. You both remain in silence, and Suguru tries his hardest to not pay attention to your gaze on his form.

“Please, do visit more often. A poor lady like myself gets bored alone in this big house, you know?” You smiled, eyes filled with mirth.

Suguru cleared his throat, grabbing a napkin from his pocket to wipe away at his mouth. “The sandwich was delicious, thank you for having me.” He spoke after a moment, getting up from his chair. Your eyes follow his face, head tilting up to accommodate his height.

You blink, suddenly amused. “Why, of course. The pleasure is mine. Will you be visiting again?” You answer him sweetly, pushing away from the table to stand in front of him.

“If by chance we see each other again, then yes.” Suguru answers simply, and you perk up in delight, rushing over to grab his long coat

You smile as you help him with his upper layer, fingers lingering over his shoulders. “You've simply warmed my heart, dear advisor.” You mumble sweetly, to which Suguru raises a brow.

“What's with all the titles? Just refer to me by my name.” He assures, leaning down to pull his shoes over his feet.

“Your name only, you say? Why, that's certainly an honor, Suguru.” The way his name rolls off his tongue, Suguru pauses, glancing up at you. There's a cattish smile on your face once more, and Suguru turns his gaze back to his boots.

“I'll be off, then.” He answers curtly, and you hum. You lean into him once more, a hand on his forearm and a kiss pressed to his cheek.

“Until next time, dearest Suguru! Farewell!” You wave your hand goodbye, closing the door with a giggle of delight. “He's so dreamy, isn't he?” You ask your cat, and she purrs in response, her ear flicking as if in agreement to your words.

And unbeknownst to you, Suguru found himself stumbling back to Satoru and the kingdom, head clouded with you, all thanks to you and your wicked demeanor.

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number1mackinnie · 25 days ago

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i dont know why but this reminded me of them

#macposting #cardboardcable #<- not ship way btw… duo name #strike implied #<- or actually any ship w/ mac lol

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space-blue · 29 days ago

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What are your thoughts about the vanco we got from the alt universe where vi died?

It's good!

I'm just pleased and surprised they went there within the show, but overall I don't have much to say. It appears to be the sort of bog standard happy AU you can find 20 of on AO3. (This is not derogatory BTW, I have myself written reconciliation AUs that could literally be the prelude to that episode and be fully canon)

It's just funny that they made Vi's death into the catalyst for goodness (and given Silco's grey eye, it seems that him not finding or working with Singed is also important, as he has no shimmer).

I especially like that hint, because to me it implies that EVEN if Vi died in our universe, Silco and Vander may not reunite, because Silco has shimmer.

Aka: the perfect weapon to strike against Piltover.

And our Silco is a zealot. IDK if Nice!Silco was any less of one, but I'm sure he'd be in a different mindset if he hadn't been rotting in an underground lab with Singed experimenting on his eye and selling him hopes of violent uprising.

Ultimately I like EVERYTHING Zaundads they gave us, except for the drowning's timing and the reason for Vander' lashing out being just "Felicia died".

I might make a meta post about it.

But yeah, I'm no stranger to fixing shit I don't like in canon (big Star Wars fan ahaha), and all things considered Zaundads is one of the best ships I sail. Having to doctor the timeline for them a bit isn't a problem. The stuff that doesn't work is based on half remembered memories and an admitedly poorly written apology letter. Very easy to work around.

Honestly, a few things stood out as really disappointing in the show, but the rest is so off the charts excellent that I'm trying to make a conscious effort to not let the disappointment creep into things that only mildly annoy me, like the Vander backstory. I don't want to make myself miserable or bitter around a show that had such an important impact on my life.

#anon ask #thanks for asking!#I may do that zaundads storyline fix post yet #arcane #silco #vander #arcane meta #arcane s2 #arcane 2 #arcane spoilers #arcane 2 spoilers #vanco #zaundads

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lord-squiggletits · 1 year ago

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On the MegOP fandom trend of saying "Optimus should apologize to Megatron"

(Speaking specifically for IDW1, though it applies to a lot of MegOP especially ones that do continuity soup with heavy reference to IDW1)

I was talking to a friend in DMs and they mentioned a common headcanon/fanfic trope that I also concurred with, and both of us said it's something that bothers us: a common take in the MegOP fandom goes basically along the lines of "If Optimus had just apologized to Megatron, the war would've ended" (or other variants including "if he'd tried harder to understand Megatron/work in collaboration with him").

And firstly, this is incorrect for a number of reasons:

There were attempts at peace negotiations during the war, but they fell through. So Optimus WAS trying to work with Megatron to the point of participating in formal diplomatic meetings.

Optimus tried multiple times on page to convince Megatron to just stop fighting and work with him for peace (Autocracy, Chaos Theory) that Megatron rejected. Given that these on-page examples take place at the start of the war and at the end of the war respectively, it makes sense that Optimus asking Megatron for collaboration is something he was trying/willing to do the entire time. So again, Optimus was always willing AND ATTEMPTING to work with Megatron and find a joint solution

Even before the war when Optimus was still Orion, he was very explicitly inspired by Megatron's writing and names Megatron as one of the people who "opened his eyes" to the wrongs of Cybertronian society. So how is it that people claim "the war went on for too long because Optimus never tried to understand Megatron" when OP literally named Megatron as one of his biggest idols, thus implying that OP does understand Megatron's ideals

But the primary purpose of this post wasn't to defend Optimus, actually. Even though I personally think Optimus did plenty (dare I say, everything) to try to end the war, there are some who may still think otherwise, so instead of arguing about whether Optimus did "enough", or who should apologize to whom, or who "deserves the blame" for starting/continuing the war, I'd actually rather talk about this:

No matter who is most "to blame" for the war, it's my firm belief that neither Megatron nor Optimus would even expect/demand the other to apologize to them at all.

On Megatron's side, he would never seek to judge Optimus negatively for the decisions to the point of saying "you wronged me, apologize." Whether it's evil Megatron who doesn't care about atrocities and revels in an opportunity to expose Optimus as a hypocrite, or post-war/Autobot Megatron who knows that his own evil actions are irredeemable, the idea of Megatron judging Optimus and demanding an apology for the war specifically strikes me as out-of-character. Why would Megatron demand or even want an apology from Optimus when Megatron knows fully well that he has his own sins to bear, he prolonged the war for his own selfish/material gain, and that he is responsible for an untold amount of suffering? Demanding an apology would imply that Megatron sees himself as the wronged party and Optimus as the wrongdoer, but by the end of the war, Megatron is too aware of his own part in the war to ever demand such a thing of Optimus. Even if he DID think that Optimus was "equally to blame" for the war (which he doesn't/wouldn't, btw), Megatron's own feelings of guilt would prevent him from trying to seek the petty satisfaction of the moral high ground or making Optimus beg for his forgiveness.

Additionally, Megatron knows Optimus very well as a person: he knows that the position of leadership is full of "loneliness [and] agonizing self-doubt" for Optimus (Chaos Theory) and that "when Optimus hurts others, he hurts himself" (MTMTE). Another reason that Megatron wouldn't demand nor want an apology from Optimus is because Megatron knows Optimus so well that he already knows that being a war leader fills Optimus with immense guilt and suffering. Given that Megatron knows about Optimus' self-doubt and guilt, why would he even need an apology when he already knows how much Optimus regrets the war and desperately wishes/wished for it to end?

Then, as established in the previous paragraphs, Optimus is too full of guilt for his part in the war (both before it started and in being unable to stop it sooner) to demand an apology from Megatron. Again, demanding an apology would put Optimus in an implied position of moral superiority and/or victimhood, but Optimus doesn't see himself as morally superior or as a victim (or rather, he sees himself as being responsible for these bad things happening and internalizes this as a duty to do better/fix wrongdoings). In other words, Megatron and Optimus both share this view of themselves and each other: Their hands are so dirty, and they both feel such guilt over this, and they know each other well enough to know that the other feels this way as well. Because both of them feel blame for the war and are acutely aware of their own flaws/part in suffering, both of them feel far too responsible for the war happening for them to ever blame their archnemesis for "not trying harder" or "being responsible for the war."

Hell, if you even look at the socio-political climate of Cybertron before the war started, neither Megatron nor Optimus were the ones who put this conflict into motion. The corrupt legacy of the Primes, Functionism, class issues-- all of these things existed before Megatron and Optimus did. Even once they started doing things like writing about social issues (M) or fighting against the Senate (OP), both of them were "underlings" in sense that they weren't leaders:

Megatron's writings may have inspired the Decepticon movement, but that movement existed as an independent entity with its own leaders and speakers long before Megatron became the "official" ruler of the Decepticons. He wasn't even the leader of the 'Cons until he took control of the gladiator arena and the nonviolent sections of the Decepticons were (presumably) subsumed into the underground, exploitative battle culture that Megatron created.

Optimus-as-Orion was a police officer to start, but even once he started going against the Senate, he mainly worked in collaboration with others like Senator Shockwave and Zeta (later Zeta Prime), who he either saw as his idols or who were literally superior to him in rank due to government/military structures.

So with this in mind, even from a social level, while Megatron and Optimus may have been "catalysts" of a sort that caused the war to escalate to an outright planetary/galactic level, the scenario is too complex to solely lay the blame for the war at either of their feet. I'm not confident in saying that Megatron/Optimus would explicitly think of this when talking to each other, but what I'm trying to say is that M/OP were just catalysts in a long chain of brewing tension that exploded into a war. Even if one could claim that one of them "started" or "escalated" the war, the social issues that caused the war and the positions of power that allowed them to become leaders in the first place were falling into place before either of them actually BECAME leaders.

In other words, this shared fate of being the final reaction that exploded a societal conflict into outright war... Megatron and Optimus both have that in common. And because of this, I really don't think either of them would even think to ask the other to apologize because they're both in such similar positions, with such similar feelings of guilt and responsibility, that they understand each other's feelings without words. To demand an apology would be akin to taking that shared vulnerability/guilt and stepping on it, attempting to claim that one is right/superior and the other is wrong/inferior, and that the inferior one needs to grovel and take responsibility for the bad things that happened.

#squiggposting #idw megop #idk if this'll get me hate or not but it's something i think about a lot #and verbalizing it to that friend in DMs helped me put into words why that common fanon take bothers me #also. hot take but if any 'apologies' are necessary then it's M who should be apologizing to OP #the war may be both of their faults but M is the one who explicitly did/said things just to hurt OP and break his spirit #i'm tired of ppl who don't understand (or at least don't discuss) how hurt OP is and how he deserves recogniztion of his feelings too #megop #then again this fanon take may just be a consequence of continuity soup culture #where ppl don't have to acknowledge specific things that M or OP did bc they can just selectively include or not include details from canon #so like. i guess in their continuity soup continuties their fanon is technically correct #but in terms of the source material which is the one shared experience we all have and the common language we derive fanon from #this fanon is very incorrect. or at least i hope i've managed to argue that it's incorrect #anyways the thesis of megop is that they're equals and opposites who are inextricably tied to each other #fanon that tries to place the blame on one or castigate one of them is missing the point of megop #the point is that they're equal. equally strong and charismatic and amazing. and equally culpable #even if they're not literally equally responsible for idw megop at least they at least both FEEL responsible #and i don't think idw megops are the type to mince words about who's 'more responsible'#they're both depressed old men who hate themselves and regret basically their whole lives. why would they judge each other like that

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