#(ironic given their canon dynamic)

[eahsayswhat]

I love how authoritative Apple looks moments before her brain catches up with her mouth. Cue the flustered mess in 3...2...1...

Happy Pride, everybody!

[aphelea]

17 & 21

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

I think it would be cool if there were more fics set pre-canon/describing the backstories of certain characters or events! There's a few of those already, I know, but not as many as I think I'd like there to be.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Definitely the love triangle. Also, I don't know if this really counts as canon, but I personally don't care much for shipping moments between the kids. Like whatever Tam-Biana-Dex thing is going on. It's not bad, I just don't particularly care much about them.

[msmorningstaarr]

let me be yours. | part I

ao3 | masterlist | part II >

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x F!Martell!Reader

Word count: 3.1K

Summary: You, a Martell princess who was recently brought into Rhaenyra's courtyard as a sign of goodwill to ensure the unification of the Seven Kingdoms. With time passing on, you feel trapped under the enticing aura of the Dragon Queen and sees yourself desiring her more and more. However, in a delicate situation, is it worth the yearn for your Queen? Would you give in to your needs to have your way with her and find some indulgence?

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), afab reader, bisexual rhaenyra, canon divergence, longing, age gap (you early 20s rhae mid 30s), fingering, masturbation, oral sex, sub/dom dynamics (rhae dom you sub), overstimulation, scissoring, queen rhaenyra targaryen, nipple play, possessive rhaenyra

Ever since you left your homeland to be a ward in King’s Landing, life has become a journey of too many changes and mixed feelings. The sense of homesickness and fear of the unknown was present and huge within your heart.

You were a princess of Dorne, the second in line to inherit Sunspear after your brother. After the rise of Rhaenyra Targaryen as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she successfully united the relations with Dorne and finally brought it into the feud and unifying the realm once and for all. You, after all, were presented at her courtyard as a sign of good will from the Martells and forge a prominent marital alliance between you and the heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Jacaerys, in order to legitimise the coming of the dornish to the courtyard.

You obviously missed the sultry dunes of sand, the sweeteness of Dornish Red, the incandescent sky, with a fiery burning sun crashing your skin and the sense of community amongst your siblings and the freedom your country provided. You felt less lonely in Dorne, for the life in King’s Landing could prove to be challenging under the judgemental and prejudicial nature of the rest of the Westerosi. Some became outraged by your presence, others just spoke in whispers around the corners of the Red Keep, yet, it was undeniable that as soon as you stepped into the city, you became the centre of attention, always remembered by the courtyard for your mysterious peek, luscious, long hair and exquisite beauty or your luxurious sense of fashion. It distanced yourself from the standard beauty of the other ladies in the realm, putting yourself easily as the fairest maiden of your time.

You had no idea if this title came over the fact that you hold a big status as future consort and people wanted to fuss around you or if you were indeed the most beautiful lady in Westeros. However, you knew well that ever since the Queen has met you, she had been enchanted by you and held you in high regard, always complimenting you and your astonishing beauty. Her Grace enjoys calling you by terms of endearment, being “sweet girl” her favourite name for you, showering you with jewellery and plenty of expensive gifts or simply having your company along the day, to have long walks throughout the royal gardens and even show you the Dragonpit became a regular routine when she arranged time between her royal duties. You barely had time to bond with Prince Jacaerys, given the fact you became her loyal companion.

Speaking from the back of your mind, you cared not much, once you found yourself drowning into the alluring beauty of Rhaenyra. The Westerosi average accent for you was dull and ugly on everyone else; on her, it was perfection. Her touch was gentle and her violet eyes were rather attentive, careful of you. You spent your nights having supper with her and her other sons or simply sharing a good conversation. She made you feel less lonely in that castle.

You questioned yourself if what you were feeling was no more than a delusion, a projection over your neediness for attention. But you could swear you caught yourself in a moment with her where your gazes locked on each other and she lightly pinched your chin, getting too close to your face. Queen Rhaenyra was a daydream. You never indulged in kissing or having any romantic interaction with other ladies but Rhaenyra lit a fire within you - a liability only Her Grace could solve.

And now there you were, another night where she requested your company for supper. You wore an orange dress with silky cuts giving a slight volume to the gown, although it was a more simplistic dress, more adequate to the occasion. Her Queensguard announced you at the door and she received you with a polite smile before you gave her a courtesy.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” You speak, bending your body on a polite greeting gesture to Rhaenyra.

“It has been a far cry since we are done with courtesies, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra said, silently commanding her servants and guards to leave her with you. Her peek examined your features and smiled softly at you.

“It is a costume I would rather not lose, Your Gra-… Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself, remembering she wanted you to address her by her name only, as a sign of how much she enjoyed your presence. She giggled and guided you through her chambers, ever so caring and jolly.

“I should warn you,” Rhaenyra began, walking through her private apartments. “I commanded the cook to prepare you something special.” Her Grace spoke to you, graciously raising her eyebrows and excited, yet contained beam. Your eyes lit up, already knowing what she was talking about.

You sat after her on the small table fetched for the two of you and a set of plates strategically placed for the duo to have dinner. Even before you would open it, you already knew. “The dornish recipe of roasted lamb.”

Rhaenyra grinned and joined her hands once she realised how much you enjoyed the said surprise. “I had the cook searching for this recipe for days, sweet girl. I hope it is of your liking.”

And then, after waiting for Your Grace to start eating, you hummed in satisfaction eating your meal. The spicy flavour exploded in your mouth, invading your taste and drooling your mouth by the slightest of satisfaction. “I take for your expression that you enjoy it a great deal.” Rhaenyra told you, after taking a bite of her own dinner. You nodded eagerly tasting it and had to contain yourself to not lose your composure in front of the Queen.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It tastes delicious, I have missed this.” You reply to her and involuntarily touches her hand, squeezing it delicately. Once you tried to take it away, Rhaenyra held it tighter, forbidding you to take it away and stared at you, silently reassuring you it was acceptable. Her hands entangling on yours was almost electrifying, causing goosebumps on your skin just with a simple touch or an exchange of looks. Her face, however, was tender and calm, with a soft smile whilst looking at you.

Rhaenyra put her hand over the table once again and her fingertips traced patterns over your soft skin. “My pleasure, sweet girl.” She muttered at you and tension was thick in the air. “Do you miss Dorne, my dear?” Rhaenyra asked you and her other hand grasped the cold metal of her cup of wine, taking it to her mouth to drink it, but her gaze never left yours.

You craved her attention, thirsting for more of Rhaenyra. Her presence sparked questions in your mind about her prowess as a lover; with so many sons, it seemed plausible her husbands found her passionate and fulfilling in bed, particularly Daemon. Could she bring that same intensity and allure to you? As Rhaenyra doted on you in your future role as a daughter-in-law, you could not help but ponder how she might express her affection in a more intimate relationship. Her gestures and glances, filled with warmth and intrigue, hinted at depths of passion waiting to be explored. The thought of her as a lover stirred your curiosity and desire, wondering how her charm and grace would translate into romantic moments.

"I do," you replied, your voice tinged with anticipation and full of honesty, grappling with the allure and uncertainty of what lay ahead. Would she meet your expectations, exceed them, or perhaps offer something entirely unexpected? The prospect both thrilled and unsettled you, as you navigated the complex emotions and possibilities that Rhaenyra's presence brought into your life.

“Well, darling, this is your home now. Your Queen will make sure you feel enoughly accommodated in my court,” Rhaenyra replied, breaking the contact between them to cut the tension shortly after it. The Valyrian Queen cuts a piece of her meat and fidget her fingers on her cup, tracing the boards as her eyes rested on your features. You, on the other hand, smiled gently at her words, deeply touched by her kindness towards you. It was not supposed to feel right to yearn for a full desire of Rhaenyra, you had to get rid these ruminations from your mind and replace them with Jacaerys. But how could it ever be possible when she is just in front of you, cornering you to fully focus on you and your relationship with her?

“I should hope you’re preparing your cloak with your ladies-in-waiting.” Your marriage, however, was a sensitive subject. Jacaerys was a dutiful boy and the interactions you had with him were more than pleasant, still, he was not what you were looking for. His long, brown curls had its appeal, but his mother unveiled things she wished she felt for Prince Jace. “I was done with the embroidery yesterday. I can bring it and show you on our next encounter, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra lifted her eyebrows and lowered her eyes, smirking at her food as she ate it, seemingly thinking about something. You laughed, nervously drinking your wine. Your hands felt sweaty and heart beating just as it was about to rip open your chest out. “I would be most glad, sweet girl. Are you nervous about your wedding?”

You nodded, with your eyes sly and cautious while lingering on the Queen and she smiled at you again, on an attempted shared empathy. “I was a little thing like you when I married my first husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon, Jace’s father,” Rhaenyra began. “He was not my choice of husband, earnestly.” She giggled and drank a sip of her wine. “But we had a good marriage. Laenor was a good man and provided me with children and good company. We loved each other in our own ways. Jace will treat you well too, sweet girl.”

“Thank you, Your Gr-...” The Queen lifted an eyebrow, reminding you of her request. “Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself again and she mumbled something as ‘much better’. You giggled alongside her as she shook her head in amusement.

“A marriage is just a piece of paper,” Rhaenyra began. “You and Jace will understand you both can perform a duty and still find your happiness.”

Her words sounded suggestive, was the Queen motivating you to commit treason before your marriage? Was Rhaenyra testing you? You raised your eyebrows and Rhaenyra smiled mischievously again, her eyes gazing at you intensely and in quietude. You rummined what was going on within her mind. Rhaenyra's violet eyes held a depth that made you feel seen and understood in ways that no one else ever had. The silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and possibilities. Rhaenyra's touch was a lifeline in the vast sea of desires you were feeling. Her thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, sending shivers down your spine. You wanted to ask her so many things, but the words seemed to fail you in the face of her overwhelming presence.

"Sweet girl," Rhaenyra began softly, her voice a soothing melody, "My first marriage was also born out of duty. I can relate to the worry in your eyes. I want you to know that your happiness means a great deal to me, equally as my son’s. Your marriage to Jacaerys is a duty, yes, but it does not have to be the entirety of your existence."

By this point, you both had finished your plates and no desire for dessert rose for any of you. Rhaenyra had her wine by a window, feeling the cold breeze blow on her face with you by her side. The moonlight casted a silver glow, contrasting with her fair skin and silvery locks. Her words were a lifeline, pulling you from the deep core of your anxiety. The way she looked at you, with such intensity and sincerity, made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

"Rhaenyra, I..." You hesitated, unsure of how to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside you. She squeezed your hand reassuringly, her eyes never leaving yours. “Are you testing me?”

Rhaenyra stared at you, grinning and confused. “Why would I test you, sweet girl?”

The proximity of her and the warmth of her breath on your skin, was intoxicating. You found yourself leaning closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her nearness was both a comfort and a temptation, stirring feelings within you that you had never dared to acknowledge before.

“Rhaenyra, what are you asking of me?” You finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

A slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “I am asking you to trust me, to let me guide you through this. Do you trust me, sweet girl?”

“I trust you.” You simply replied, sighing heavily. You should not desire her this much. However, being this close made you want to touch her, kiss her perfect lips and beg for her to claim you as his. She smiled at you, relieved and her fingertips stroked your hair, pulling it behind your ear. Her scent was a blend of lavender and something uniquely her. You felt the pull towards her, a magnetic force that you couldn't resist. Tentatively, you leaned in, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure she could hear it.

“Good.” She mumbled against your skin as Rhaenyra came closer. You never had been this close to her before. Her fingers reached your chin, lifting it to bring it closer to her lips, but her kiss was redirected to your cheek, so gently and delicate, yet so intense and slightly lustful. “Will you visit me next evening, my sweet?” Her Grace asked you, whispering words softly and close to your ear. It was a dangerous game you two were engaging in and you knew it well. But what is duty compared to what you are feeling now? You nodded in silence, quietly responding to her question as her hands embraced you slowly, bringing you closer, like a viper defeats its prey.

“I shall leave you to rest now.” You whispered at her, trying not to look into her eyes. Rhaenyra did not deviate her eyes from you, caressing your hair and staying close enough to feel her breath close to your face. “If you excuse me, Your… Rhaenyra.” You corrected yourself for a last moment and she giggled briefly to your face and finally let you go.

You were right in front of a windy window and your body was catching fire after having that moment with Rhaenyra. The cold breeze contrasted sharply with the heat that had built up inside you. As you left her chambers, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Making your way back to your quarters, the corridors felt longer, each step echoing with the memory of Rhaenyra’s touch and her whispered words. You couldn’t shake the feeling of her fingers against your skin, the promise and peril in her gaze. It was a heady mix of excitement and apprehension, knowing that you were treading a fine line between duty and desire.

Once in the privacy of your room, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it, taking a moment to catch your breath. The room felt different, almost foreign, as if it no longer fit the person you were becoming. You moved to the window, looking out into the night, the stars twinkling like a thousand silent witnesses to the secrets you now held.

You changed your clothing for a simple nightgown and decided it was time for your slumber, laying on the mattress and allowing you to rest. However, your mind recalled the way Rhaenyra was too close to you, the way her hands had touched you, her soothing voice in your ear felt as the prettiest of melodies, made just for you. It was by far, the most erotic encounter you ever had and you found yourself silently begging for more. Her words echoed in your ears, a constant reminder that your happiness was just as important as your duty. Your hands wandered throughout your body, pinching your nipples, squeezing your breasts and closing your eyes to imagine it is her touch on them. Your hand then passed down on your clothed belly and thighs, teasing yourself before actually going all the way to your pleasure. A soft moan left your lips as you played with your nipples, fantasising about Rhaenyra taking over that liability.

When her body was enoughly worked up and her cunt ached, your hand had encountered your centre over the thin fabric of your dress and when you could feel a small trace of wetness staining on the undergarment, you hummed slightly. Your hand was not a regular tool, you tried it a few times only, but her touch was so recent and her scent was well alive in your nostrils, it felt logical for your body to demeanour in that manner, begging to be touched. You moaned lightly when your fingers pressed against your swollen clit, causing your body to shudder under your own touch. You reminded her sweet talk so close to you, how soft her lips were kissing your cheek and your mind screamed, pleading for those lips to kiss your lips, your chest, your cunt…

As you moved your hand south, your fingers circled around your clit in a slow, tortuous motion and caused your body to arch your back, mumbling words of ‘please, Rhaenyra’ , begging to release for her. Alternating between circles and light taps on your sweet spot, you drove yourself to madness, humping your crotch in the air. Traces of sweat fell down your face as heat grew inside your body. Your breathing was quick to become erratic, just as the pace of your hand became more urgent on your sweet spot. Soon enough, your moans were a bit louder and the pleading became more insistent, desperate. When you least expect it, your body convulsed violently, and orgasm hits you, making your legs quiver, spread wider, hips bouncing against nothing and lungs breathing heavily, your entrance clenched around nothing. You never came this strongly before, and all thanks to your Queen. Trying to gain consciousness, you stared at the ceiling, reflecting about what you just did. Not even a single trace of guilt had reached your body and you considered doing it again if your eyes were insistent to be closed and put your body to sleep.

———

a/n: missed writing and hell yeah i got inspired by THAT scene. please consider leaving likes, comments and reblogs. it’s very important for the writer! <3

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody @pet1t3

[moondirti]

Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!

My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.

Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?

What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?

Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.

Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?

Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!

shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev

cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.

Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.

Or even understand, really.

Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...

You don't mind it.

But you still don't like him.

It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.

That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.

Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.

You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–

The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.

But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.

Things only get worse from there.

"An' where d'you think you're going?"

You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.

If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.

"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.

But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.

And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.

"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."

He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.

"Where are you going with this?"

Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.

"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"

"N-No–"

"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"

"Yes. Yes but–"

"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."

Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.

Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.

That cruel fuck.

"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."

Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.

As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.

"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."

"Si–"

He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.

"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."

You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.

"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."

You make it one block before hightailing back home.

Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.

You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.

But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.

You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.

Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.

Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.

Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.

"Miss me 'lready?"

A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.

The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.

Good dick be damned.

But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.

Account does not exist.

Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.

So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.

It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–

Account does not exist.

Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.

Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.

And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.

It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.

"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."

"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"

You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.

The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.

And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.

You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.

Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.

Just as Simon barges into your room.

You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.

But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.

"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.

Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.

(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)

That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.

You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.

"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."

"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.

He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.

If anything, he's the stray.

"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."

[beannoss]

Something I think about a lot and wonder if maybe gets overlooked in Twilight’s story and as vitally indicative of his character is actually in the very first chapter:

Anya isn’t needed for Strix. Twilight decides to adopt her anyway.

[Spoiler warning: Mostly this post deals with early chapters already in the anime but there is reference to chapter 62, which has not yet been animated and will be in season 3]

Twilight decides it — “I’m going to rework the mission so it doesn’t involve a child because that’s too dangerous” and he’s 100% right! Donovan Desmond is canonically a far right warmonger with fascistic authoritarian aims. His government made liberal use of the SSS — a group to mirror the Stasi — who continue to operate in morally dubious ways (much more likely they’re actively morally reprehensible, though we’ve mostly only had rumours of that so far). From what we can tell, Desmond is at best an absent father and likely actually worse than that: if that's how he treats his own children, imagine how he might treat others. And the timeline seems to indicate that the experimentation performed on Anya was done under Desmond's government — even if Twilight isn't aware of experimentation on children, he is aware of both human and animal experimentation under Desmond's government. Taking all that and also the complexity of Strix's aims, undoubtedly there were other things that could be done, more straightforward if not necessarily easier.

So. Why? Why entertain the change at all? And then, having entertained it, why go back when the reasoning is indisputable?

On the Doylist level, I think Endo wanted to ensure that Anya had some agency within the set up — Endo also does this with Yor. It would be much harder to be on Twilight’s side fully, or to trust him on an ethical level/take him as any sort of moral authority, if he were just straightforwardly using these two people. To have them be active and consenting participants (arguably to actually be affirming the arrangement: Twilight sets it up, but Anya and Yor actually make it happen) even if the audience only knows the depth of their knowledge/motivations/etc currently, shifts the power dynamic in important ways.

But it also the set up tells us important things about Twilight. He is largely impatient, cold, detached in chapter one. His overarching feelings towards Anya are, I think, real annoyance, real confusion, and real impatience. He just doesn’t understand this damn kid and it turns out she’s a person which is frankly unacceptable — he’d needed and anticipated an automaton, ideally of himself in miniature form. (Though I think one could ponder whether Twilight was, in many ways, an automaton himself at this point, but that's maybe for another meta 🙃)

He’s not entirely unmoved of course — we're given to understand he’s affected when Franky tells him how many times Anya’s been adopted and returned, and isn't amused by Franky's joke about names. Franky's comment — "Just don't get attached" — reinforces this. The prospect of “the future” perturbs Twilight when he’s reading the parenting books. His initial reaction to Anya’s kidnap is horror. All these are true too.

Then there’s also this, from earlier in the chapter:

It’s exposition, yeah, and it’s also exposing. "Hopes" and "joys" are very specific words to describe those events. It could simply have been "A marriage? An ordinary life?" but describing them as such — hope for marriage; joy in ordinary life — expose something of what Twilight feels about those two experiences and, on the flipside, they expose what he deems he's lacking. No hopes of intimacy; no joy in (an ordinary) life. There's an argument as well, of course, that he's being ironic but I don't think that actually invalidates the above analysis. Drawing attention to 'hope' and 'joy' at all are revealing, regardless of Twilight's tone in thinking of them. I think it's also interesting this panel, taken in conjunction with a pair of panels in chapter 62, Twilight's backstory. The above is almost a pulled out version of this below panel of Twilight's recollection of his childhood, and of course the returning image of not just a rubbish bin but a rubbish bin on fire when it comes to disposing of his identity:

Back to Strix. Both his final interaction with Karen and the whole everything of the framing of Strix is making Twilight think (and feel, ahem) things that he hasn't for some time. Twilight decides, I’m reworking this. It can’t proceed this way. Not because Anya is a pain in his ass, not because she’s not as (apparently) intellectually advanced as he’d originally thought, not even because he thinks he can find another child who would better be exactly what mission parameters called for. No:

And what changes his mind is Anya asking to come home.

One of the important parts of this to me is this:

He seeks consent.

This moment is a keystone, I think, to understanding Twilight. It’s also more telling than he maybe realises. Twilight is decisive — we all laugh because he spirals at the drop of a hat when his daughter or wife look even mildly upset but outside those (also very telling) scenarios, he makes decisions and he pursues them. Often he makes decisions quickly. He’s a dab hand at it; it’s a large part of why he’s as good a spy as he is.

He’d decided to change Strix.

Anya asks him, in essence, not to.

So, he doesn't.

But it's wild that he entertains keeping her request at all — why? Why even entertain it? It’s dangerous; it’s impractical; there are too many moving parts outside his direct control; Anya isn’t the sort of child he’d wanted for the mission if he’d spent any time thinking about what a child might actually be like; Strix is in many ways an extremely long shot anyway, Desmond could just stop attending for reasons unknown and unrelated; etc.

So, yeah, why? Maybe because of this —

In conjunction, I often think of this moment in the cruise arc:

Twilight first naming the feeling as lonesome, and secondly tacitly conceding that he perceives Yor as a companion and that that relationship is important to him, something to be missed. What makes this for me though is that Anya calls this out "Papa's you're so sappy" and Twilight's reaction is that of someone caught-out. He doesn’t say “nuh-uh!” but he may as well have. Essentially, something landed a bit close to home, hm? Maybe some of that hope for marriage? A soupçon of joy of an ordinary life?

Twilight’s loneliness underpins many of his decisions with his family — probably without him being fully conscious of it. I think he is at least somewhat conscious of it, but also if he looks too closely... Well, best not to. I could fill this post, I think, with images that demonstrate his loneliness throughout the series; that sorrowful/pensive close-up of his eye(s) is one of the abiding motifs for Twilight throughout. I'd probably start with this one from Twilight's backstory arc:

Anya's request plays directly off his loneliness. Still though, he doesn’t immediately capitulate — he emphasises Anya’s choice. Is she sure? The last day has been scary for a child (and for him, but he's ignoring that part) and Twilight, in his increasing recognition that Anya is a person, is probably aware in the back of his mind that he hasn’t exactly been warm or welcoming or at all patient with her. Things that people respond to — he's otherwise excellent at manipulating people, so of course he understands this. So. Given she'd just had this scary experience, given he hasn't exactly been great with her: Is she sure? She wants to come home — with him?

I think the moment may get a little lost because Anya says something riffing off his own earlier thoughts and self-revelation (featuring that shadowed, lonely eye motif again!)

Were this a post about Anya, I’d talk about how it’s an important character moment for her as well by way both of demonstrating her agency/choice and also that she isn’t nearly as dumb as Twilight thinks (and the audience, maybe, also thinks).

But in my view, she didn’t actually need to say anything about it making her cry. I think she could simply have said yes in that moment and Twilight would have agreed.

Twilight’s an unreliable narrator; he’s disconnected from his heart and that shrouds his own motivations from himself — something he actually also concedes in this chapter!

And it shrouds from us just how much he actually understands himself. He’s also a master of deflection. Easy to assume or say that bringing Anya home is just to align with Strix. Nothing more to see here; nothing else going on. But also that ripping off of the mask in the panel above — and the literal 'riiip' sound effects — also indicate to us that this is an unveiling to himself.

In my view, Twilight agreeing to Anya's request, deciding to go back to original mission parameters, actually shifts his motivations, subtly. Now he’s committed not only to the original mission goals, but also to Anya. He needs Anya to succeed at Strix, not only for Strix's sake, but also because otherwise the mission will end and she’ll have to go back to the orphanage, and he’s just agreed with her not to do that (not right away, in any case). I don’t think at this point he’s thinking it’s forever — his thoughts throughout the manga indicate he still expects the Forgers to be temporary. I don't think the shift in motivation is necessarily even conscious, but given the set up, I think something inside Twilight recognises that agreeing to bring Anya home is a compact, jointly engaged. Mostly all this has become subsumed into Strix: he makes decisions. He pursues them. He deflects, even from himself. Of course it's just for the mission; this saved him the trouble of reworking it, of figuring out something else. Nothing more to see; no need to think any more on it. And to be fair to him, Strix is very high stakes, resting pretty solely on his shoulders, so of course that is, objectively, motivation enough. Why even consider beyond that?

But I personally think that to the extent he's aware of it at all, there is something else going on, that he wants to have Anya for as long as it takes him to work something else out for her. If that's the case, then of course, we have Occam’s razor: the simplest solution may be the best one.

Maybe Twilight should just keep Anya himself, eh?

[Image description: gif from Spy x Family season 1, episode 1. Twilight and Anya have just found out Anya passed her entrance exam and are overjoyed. Celebratory, Twilight picks Anya up and swoops her into the air as they smile at one another. End image description]

[foursaints]

fanonwise i sometimes feel that we don’t treat barty crouch jr’s relationship to his father with the amount of nuance that it’s given in canon.

i see more evidence for their dynamic as one of a prodigal son‘s unexpected betrayal, rather than him being openly defiant from the beginning. barty jr disdains his father more than he fears him.

barty’s character is more about being Stifled than it is about being Penalized, if that makes sense. he is a docile thing on the outside. for a counterexample: sirius continuously rebelled against his parents and was punished for it, over and over. barty is more the case of a child dutifully abiding with something spiteful and ugly growing underneath his surface, larger each passing year.

barty’s revenge, and his anger, and his suffering, are all quiet things: the secret burying of a bone, the forced muteness of imperius. barty doesn’t react when he speaks about his father or sees him in disguise. he admits to never truly considering him a father, seeing more of himself in tom instead.

this is more compelling to me than casting him as a sirius-variant!! it’s a slow type of resentment— leading to torture and ending in revenge— and i like the idea of barty as someone in Waiting. he’s the deferential mirror of a man he doesn’t respect (but never truly, not inside). barty jr was a son raised to take the place of his father: obeying to the letter until he suddenly didn’t, and finally usurping him in the most violent way possible with patricide. his father wanted an heir to replace him and he created a perfect one, in the most tragically ironic way possible!! this will always be more interesting to me than a barty who is plainly defiant from the outset— it flattens him!!

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 6/∞

SHEN YUAN HAS A YOUNGER SISTER

Rating: CANON

Shen Yuan doesn't often mention his family during the novel itself, but many fans enjoy exploring his family dynamic during his first life in their fanworks. Often, his younger sister will feature prominently in these fanworks, so some may wonder whether she is a real character, or part of fanon.

This character, while never given a name, is in fact canonical.

This is the quote where Shen Yuan's family is first described:

In his previous life, Shen Yuan had been well-off growing up, and he’d basically qualified as a modest example of a second-generation rich kid. His two older brothers had been set to inherit the family business, and he’d doted on his little sister. The entire family had been very close. (7S Ch. 1)

Not only do we know a bit of how their relationship was from this, we also learn later on that Shen Yuan's little sister was a reader of danmei novels:

Furthermore, Luo Binghe didn’t act like the characters in the strange novels that Shen Qingqiu’s younger sister had liked to read in his previous life. He didn’t shackle Shen Qingqiu to the bed with iron chains, blindfolded and gagged, or strip him naked and beat him or anything. (7S Ch. 14)

Naturally, this also implies that Shen Yuan read these novels as well-- their relationship was likely particularly close, since she shared at least the contents of the novels she liked to read with him, especially this sort of novel.

Other than this, though, we don't know anything further about Shen Yuan's little sister from canon, and her characterization is entirely up for interpretation.

[plansexualford]

As a long time billford truther (this blog may be new but I’m not.) I’m so happy to see the revival of a ship that was once so misunderstood.

Below is my not so little rant about my frustrations with “but it’s toxic” people and the disservice it does in undermining not only fans’ intelligence but lowkey the writing of the content we’ve been given. Also, a bit on how fandoms in general seem to dismiss the use of ships (unless canonized/written directly into the story) as a medium to tell complex, and sometimes uncomfortable stories.

The frustration I have towards the people that act like they’re high and mighty for saying “billford is ironic, you shouldn’t actually ship it cause it’s toxic” or some variation of treating it as a joke or untouchable that piss me off for multiple reasons.

1. We know, you are not smarter or superior for acknowledging a fact that is crystal clear to see and is literally the most common way that dynamic is explored. Like wow, congrats on providing such valuable insight that none of us saw before. The only times I ever see it not explored in that way has maybe been through pre-betrayal interactions and what ifs.

Not to say there are NEVER clear misreadings (not aus/or fixits/etc. just poor understandings) of their characters that are devoid of what makes them—them, but I fear I truly dgaf and just wince and move on.

2. It is in my opinion, infinitely worse (edit: and honestly a sign of immaturity) to want the allusions to a toxic relationship to be jokes instead of simply accepting that a relationship did happens in canon, whether it happened platonically or romantically (though there is more subtext that 12 y/o me would have never I’d ever imagined reading as an adult for that latter recently.) It should be taken seriously, given that the book clearly wants us to, otherwise the allusions in the book and thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com would not exist in the way that they do. Why would you rather something like that be a joke instead of allowing yourself to sit with and accept discomfort?

Ultimately billford is twisted, it’s horrifying to imagine, it’s a tragically awful train-wreck we can’t look away from. After all that, Ford’s resolve is honestly healing. And if we see interesting, complex stories/art/musings to tell from this dynamic, what’s wrong with that?

Lastly, the source material is a Y7-V Disney Channel show that premiered over 10 years ago, we’re (I assume mostly) adults now. Unclench.

P.S. I’m being unserious when I say this but “toxic yaoi/yuri ” is apparently trend and y’all can’t handle a yellow triangle demon and a grown man from a Y7-V series? Smh. Take every variation of that phrase out your tumblr bio immediately, you don’t deserve it.

[silentsneezes]

since seeing the d/eadpool and w/olverine movie i’ve been obsessing over their dynamic so much and of course my brain made it about snz

firstly, do l/ogan’s claws extend when he sneezes? do they extend fully with a let out sneeze or a fit and only partially extend if he stifles?

also w/ade is canonically kinky so i feel inclined to headcanon him as a snzfucker, but i also really love the idea of l/ogan having the kink (and w/ade indulging him, if you ship them) - or alternatively, w/ade adopting the kink after inducing l/ogan

after learning about l/ogan’s kink i feel like w/ade would purposefully make his hitching overly dramatic and announce his sneezes (even in public, which would both piss off and turn on l/ogan)

w/ade would get up and go to whichever room l/ogan was in as soon as he felt a sneeze coming on and joke about “putting on a show” whenever he had a fit

this is purely an indulgent thought, but w/ade sneezing in his mask and struggling to rub his nose/get full relief whenever he’s wearing his d/eadpool suit

i know they both have regenerative/healing abilities, but im choosing to believe that doesn’t apply to allergies 🙏 (i think l/ogan having a cat allergy would be ironic given his hairstyle in the earlier movies)

anyways i’m just rambling, and i have a lot more snz thoughts about them if anyone’s interested! my asks and dms are open :)

[stirringwinds]

ngl, i'm a subscriber to the "yong-soo is older than kiku" club too...i know canon says he's 15 or 16 but...eh. i do like some aspects of canon, like its depiction of him being tall and capable of projecting a photogenic image (more so than yao and kiku). but...is there justification for him being that young? old man yong-soo feels like it fits in way better with Korean history imo, and please i cannot resist the whole "the old master and his rival apprentices" dynamic between yao, yong-soo and kiku, with yong-soo being the "older" apprentice—given Korea's tremendously important role as the route through which several Chinese cultural elements were transmitted to Japan in real life (kanji, for one). that is on top of other elements of Korean culture that Japan imported, or Korea being the source of iron weapons and armour during japan's kofun period (300 to 538 AD)—and later, also advanced ship-building techniques.

i feel like it adds further dimension to how we might otherwise have a simplified view of the sinosphere as a universe where yao is the one who turns the wheel of "civilisation": it's also yong-soo taking those influences in. not passively, but actively incorporating his own cultural elements, before they're all passed on by his monks, traders, philosophers, mariners and soldiers to kiku. and in the modern era, Japanese imperial ascendency and ambition isn't just a yao-kiku dynamic of a weary old master and his talented, regicidal protégé, but with yong-soo, about a total inversion and desecration of the confucian hierarchy of seniority too. more than one older nation has had to endure imperial subjugation to a younger one—but in the shadow of meiji japan's naval power, there's the additional sting that it was him once teaching kiku ship-building a long time ago.

[restitutor-orbis]

Me, defending Daenerys Targaryen: Her existence is meant to break the shackles that is often associated with Targaryen madness and tyranny. Just as Aegon the Conqueror came and reshaped Westeros, Daenerys is meant to do that and go further. Aegon did not radically changed the dynamics of the Seven Kingdoms, though his and his sisters' unification did lead to a lessening of yearly wars that the kingdoms were often associated with, but Daenerys goes beyond that. She seeks to dismantle ancient institutions that keep man enslaved and submissive--she is a revolutionary. Attempts to degrade her actions against slavery should be taken under suspicion, for no other character calls for greater reform, not even the common-born Davos. Daenerys' Meereen arc is meant to display the reality of leadership, something which male characters such as Tyrion, Robb, and Jon deal with, to a variety degree of success and failure. Yet, only Daenerys and her actions are held to higher scrutiny, meanwhile Tyrion, Robb, and Jon's fates all occurred by their own choices and actions - Tyrion actively maintained Shae at court, and though he meant well, pulled political blunder when he threatened Cersei, even though it was a noble cause to defend Alayaya; Jon's choice to remain reclusive regarding his designs weakened his overall support in the Night's Watch, especially as he received it under very peculiar situations. Meanwhile, there is less focus on the community about those political blunders and consistent critiques regarding Daenerys' actions, and given the show's canonization of Jon as a "legitimate" son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, any nuance toward her and her potential claim to the Iron Throne is often discarded and forsaken as Jon is considered the "rightful" heir to many members of the fandom. Referring to her as the potential mad queen not only fails to recognize that Daenerys likely is meant to break the common traits of her kin, but also simply ignores the parrallels between Cersei and Aerys. Having two mad queens is reductive, and ignores Martin's anti-misogynistic attempts through Daenerys. The Dance of Dragons only occurred because of misogyny, not because Rhaenyra herself was unfit to rule. That is meant to be something in which Daenerys is expected to break.

Me, defending Queen Marika the Eternal: Yes, she committed multiple cases of genocides...but she was a hot MILF while doing it, soooo

[oh-no-its-bird]

Just wanted to say I adore all your au's but the idea of Tora and Shisui are sending me my two favorite boys interacting

They'd be so fun together!! I honestly think they'd have really good chemistry

I see them as one of those dynamics where people take turns looking at them and going "oh ok so HE'S the sane one, right?" but switching who they're talking about depending on the hour of the day. (The catch is neither of them is normal they're just so good at acting it that they've managed to trick even themselves)

They have to take turns being in charge in the trio with Itachi bc if either one of them is left in charge for long periods of time it inevitably goes to shit

They have a lot of genuine respect for each other (which is somewhat rare coming from Tora, who, while gives a lot of surface level respect to people bc ettiquite, doesn't actually tend to really respect a lot of people)

They have the perfect personalities to play off eachother as the "straight man" and point out when the other is being insane or just plain weird

Meanwhile, Itachi is looking at their individual crazy going "this is a perfectly normal idea told by two perfectly normal upstanding members of the community and I have no issues with anything u are saying right now"

<- which also makes Itachi the perfect tie breaker/in-between for them bc he is blind to any crazy they may say and will take them very seriously no matter how stupid or outlandish the idea proposed

I think Tora existing and kind of dragging Shisui into this dual partnership for "who's in charge" between the three of them also eases a lot of stress off of Itachi. He just has to sit there and eat his applesauce in the back seat of the car as Tora and Shisui argue ab how to take care of any given problem and occasionally ask if he has any ideas.

Personal take here: I don't think Itachi likes being in charge! That boy is a born, built, and bred shinobi who follows what he is told to a perfect T, no matter how blatantly horrifically awful the order is! Even if hates it with all of his heart! He'll still fucking do it! And then only blame himself for it and not the guy who fucking ordered it! Because he'll still obey that guy after!

Which also adds another fun layer of irony bc hes supposed to be clan head one day!

To me, Itachi is a fascinating subject of having an unshakable, unbreakable iron will— and also having absoloutley no spine

To be fair tho was also like. Fuckin 13. He was fucked up and was tricked at a very, very young age and unfortunatley that one mistake came to chain him to that one specific way of thinking. If he came to grow out of that way of thinking, he'd first have to admit he'd made a mistake, which wasn't gonna happen bc it was too late for regrets.

But anyways:

With Tora here Itachi has another "voice of reason" to help steer him away from other voices who might otherwise bind him. There isn't as much pressure on only him + Shisui to here and now choose what they (and only they) will choose to do to save the entire clan or Konoha

Tora is a natural leader and quick to take charge, and Itachi is ok with that. When Itachi chooses to speak, he is listened to carefully and his opinions are taken seriously, which is all he can ask for tbh. Otherwise he's allowed to sit there and look pretty till given a nice, neatly wrapped plan approved by 2 people he can really, truly trust.

So he's doing a bit better mentally than canon

Anyways, in this AU I think Itachi should actually get to semi-retire as a shinobi and actually Sasuke gets to be clan head bc his brother ain't built for it. Plus it can play more into the stuff I was talking ab earlier about Sasuke struggling a lot more than those around him to learn different stuff (sealing especially) only to come out as one of the most terrifying in what he eventually masters.

Let the second son inherit!! Let Sasuke have a defining character moment where he decides he wants to help guide the clan, and he's forced to kind of get over his brother worship to confront Itachi to say he doesn't think he'd make the best clan head. And Itachi let's out this sigh of relief he did not know he has been holding for his entire life and tells Sasuke he's proud of him.

Fuck right sorry we were talking about Tora and Shisui let's get back to that—

They're a terrifying, hyper competent duo who are here to get shit done. I've been thinking about Tora's chakra affinities latley, thinking it's mostly wind with a weak water affinity (and boy do I have thoughts about the implications of him having lost that strong connection to water in this life but that's for a different post) so his wind moves can feed into and off of Shisui's fire for some cool combo attacks. Just them fighting together really well in general is fun to think ab tbh

Tora has a decent (honestly kind of mean) sense of humor, but when he makes jokes he says it with a totally straight face. (Itachi is similar so when they're joking with eachother no one can ever tell bc neither are even laughing about it as they banter w dead faces)

But Shisui, having grown up with Itachi, can totally tell when he's joking and thinks he's funny. He's a pretty upbeat, smiley guy, but he always seems to be laughing about something around Tora for some reason (the reason is that Tora is funny you just can't tell)

Shisui is in general just really good at reading him. He catches on to what he's thinking really fast and will sometimes react to Tora's plans before he even explains them. Or he'll see some scattered clues to something and go "Hmm. This means nothing to me but it feels like something Tora would notice, so I'll make note of it"

I think over time both Shisui and Itachi would start to make similar expressions to Tora

(I love when friends subconsciously pick up on eachothers expressions and vocabulary)

Tora catches Shisui's "I'm going to cause problems on purpose" smile and Shisui catches his in turn. Tora catches Itachi's quietly smug gleam in his eye and Itachi gets his own (very punchable) smug smirk

Funny scene where Shisui makes the exact expression Tora always makes before declaring something terrifying and Kakashi instinctivley slaps him upside the head bc of it. Shisui goes ?????? What the fuck was that for ????? As Kakashi apologizes and stares at his own hand in confusion

Tora and Shisui are a comedy duo you can't change my mind

[amywritesthings]

Operation: Battlepass (AKA the Totally Awesome Plan to Play Wingman by Yuuji Itadori) / a Choso x OFC story

After choosing to live together as brothers, Yuuji decides to introduce Choso to the wonderful world of gaming. What he didn't expect is for Choso to fall head over heels for his online friend. Naturally, hijinks must ensue, and the gang comes up with a plan to make this romcom a reality.

word count: 3k (part one of ??) tags: au - canon divergence, fluff, romantic comedy, told in yuuji's pov, ultimate big brother!choso, gaming, online friendshipcredit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

read on ao3 here.

PART ONE: THE INTRODUCTION

disclaimer: this is a very crack slice of life story. everyone's alive. itadori is friends with an adult through online gaming. their dynamic is very much 'you're a kid and i have to protect you from weirdos in gaming lobbies'. iris is inspired by my own older online friends growing up. it's nothing nefarious.

Yuuji Itadori has never been a wingman.

Well — kind of.

If you scratch all of the times that Itadori went along with the ‘Save Megumi’ plan conjured up by the brilliant (and twisted) minds of Gojo-sensei and Kugisaki, then he’s technically never been a wingman.

Come to think of it, he’s never really given the act of dating much thought.

It isn’t like he’s ever had much skin in the game. 

Itadori’s never had a partner, for one.

Fushiguro is smooth enough to flirt without anyone’s help, two.

Kugisaki can be a little intimidating all on her own, three.

So it leaves… well, Itadori to cheer on his perfectly-capable friends as they navigate what it means to be a teenager.

It also leaves him wondering if one day he’ll know the tv-show-butterfly feeling of helping two lonely souls get together.

(He really should focus on his own love life, but given the whole Sukuna ordeal? That’s a mess he hasn’t quite ironed out yet.)

Enter: Choso, his alleged big brother from another mother.

(Or another father? That’s another thing he’s gotta iron out. More at 11.)

Getting a two-bedroom bachelor pad with the guy you only met, like, a few weeks ago wasn't on his year-end bingo card. 

"Really?" If Fushiguro and Nobara question something simultanously, that usually spells danger.

"Yeah!" Itadori exclaims, sipping on his tea. "I mean, why not, right?"

"Wasn't he the guy trying to kill you?" Fushiguro grunts.

"Then he changed his mind on a dime and demanded he protect you with every blood cell in his body?" Nobara adds, lips trembling from her attempt to hide a smile at her pun.

(Neither of the boys catch it.)

Itadori grimaces. "Well, when you put it that way..."

Fushiguro leans back. "Trying to kill you—"

Nobara leans forward. "—to defending you—"

They come together again, and Itadori sinks in his booth.

"—in a few hours."

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Itadori whines. "But it'll be fine. We're great pals and figured it out. He's totally normal now."

So normal that Choso's in the booth at the other end of the restaurant, sipping a coffee black with a newspaper upside-down, waiting to take Itadori and his friends to the shopping district later.

(It's a little weird admittedly, but Itadori thinks it's endearing. He cares!)

So, yeah.

He ditched living at Jujutsu High in order to move in with his brother under the approval of his instructor.

Maybe it was a hasty decision, but Itadori will take the blame on that one.

Call it excitement or stupidity, he doesn’t mind.

After spending a lot of his life wishing he had a sibling of his own, it’s kinda cool to live a brother.

Not even a brother, but a big brother who takes his job very seriously.

For starters, Itadori always gets to order wherever he wants for takeout dinner, which never got to happen back at Jujutsu High.

Fushiguro used to be apathetic about what they’d order, which meant Kugisaki took the liberty in steamrolling every decision.

Now?

Itadori gets to show Choso every single one of his favorite foods and then some.

The guy doesn’t eat much — apparently something to do with being a curse, not that Itadori judges — but he thoroughly enjoys the nights watching Choso squint over a takeout box trying to figure out what the heck is in the thing.

It’s nice teaching someone else the ropes, rather than feeling clueless in his own life.

He shows Choso how to cook; how to clean, though they’re both fairly great at lifting furniture to get into those hard-to-reach spots; how to pay bills over the internet — or just to pay for bills in general.

However, there is one important item in life he has to show his big brother:

Video games.

Apparently all he ever played when he was with Jogo, Brains, and Mahito were board games.

Snooze.

Boring.

“Today is your lucky day,” he tells the man with tightly-coiled space buns one day while Choso's watching television.

Itadori thrusts a coveted console controller into his view with excitement.

Choso blinks down at it with confusion.

“Because I — Yuuji Itadori, your little bro — am going to show you the wonders and joys of gaming.”

“I know how to play games, Yuuji,” Choso flatly replies, though there’s a warmth to his tone no matter when he speaks to Itadori.

The pink-haired boy shakes his head.

“I’m not talking about Life or Trouble or, ugh, Monopoly — though you can technically play them on a console.”

Choso’s brows slide high: really?

“Yeah, really.”

“Huh.”

The man with the black strip over his nose tests the weight of the console controller in his hand, lip slightly pouted.

“So what do you… do?”

“Press buttons, mostly.”

Itadori holds up his own decked-out controller — a modified neon blue and black masterpiece that glows in the dark — and presses a few of the buttons to show him.

“You’ll get used to it. Trust me, it’s way easier in practice.”

Sitting beside his brother with crossed legs, he triggers the console to wake up to its dashboard.

The game show disappears, and a brilliant burst of color takes over the screen.

The reaction is priceless — Choso’s eyes widen to the size of saucers.

Aw, yeah, he has him interested now.

“Do you play these games with your friends?” Choso asks quietly, poking at a button with his thumb.

“Sometimes,” Itadori replies. “Fushiguro isn’t a fan of them. Nobara gets way too competitive. Like… scary competitive. We limit her screen time.”

Choso snorts. “I can picture that.”

Itadori grins and opens up a few window menus so he can set up a profile for Choso on his console.

He hands over his main controller and gestures to Choso.

“Pick whatever profile photo you want.”

Sticking his tongue to the left in the exact way Itadori does when he’s concentrating, Choso flicks over the right joystick to search through the images.

“Itadori?”

“Yeah, Choso?”

“I don’t see my face.”

“Huh?”

“The photographs.” Choso points to the screen. “Where am I?”

Itadori blinks before he realizes.

“Oh! You… don’t, ha. You pick a character.” He pauses. “Like how you choose a thimble or a car and stuff in Monopoly.”

Choso sucks in a sharp inhale and nods in understanding before fluttering through a few more options with more confidence.

He settles over a photo of Lara Croft from the Tomb Raider series before clicking it.

“Like this?”

“What, you like Lara?”

“Is that her name?”

“Yeah, she’s kinda super badass.” Itadori takes back the controller to finish up his profile. “My one online friend really likes those games—”

Then, brilliance hits him.

It doesn’t happen often, but today?

Itadori strikes gold.

“Oh, hey — if you want, you can kinda see how me and my one friend play. She’s usually on at this hour. Here.”

He pauses to reach around the couch only to hold out a headset for Choso to take.

“Wear this. It’s my spare.”

With that same inquisitive squint, Choso observes at the headphones with scrutiny.

Itadori showcases how to put them on, popping his RGB headset over his head and squishing his pink hair to his head.

It takes a little finessing with his hairstyle, but Choso does the same. He lets the headphones sit on his head and doesn’t move.

“You good?”

“What?” Choso’s voice shouts over the noise-cancelling feature.

“I said are you—” Itadori pauses, holding up a thumbs up.

Choso blinks. Then his thumb raises.

Good.

Itadori blinks back to the television screen where he signs on as himself — YuuMasterGeneral — before searching for a particular name on his friends list.

Truth be told, he’s only ever talked to this girl.

He has no clue what she looks like in person because he’s never met her in person, but she sounds pretty nice.

After Grandpa got sick, there wasn’t much to do around the house.

Sitting in a quiet house wasn’t cutting it, so Itadori tried his hand at online gaming lobbies.

Most of them sucked.

Most of them were full of assholes.

But he got lucky — an older girl that went by the moniker of Iris was nice enough to join his team.

That first night, they talked for hours about nothing in particular. Eventually he told her about his grandpa, and she added him as a friend. Iris told him to poke her whenever she was on so he had someone to play with.

Honestly? It was exactly the kind of lifeline he needed at the time.

After that, he gamed with Iris pretty regularly. Although they mostly game, sometimes they chat about their other hobbies. He's learned she has a full-time job, just recently graduating from university. A few times she's given a sprinkle of real life advice, from an adult figuring it out a couple of steps ahead of a teenager.

He felt safe. Seen.

He and Iris have been friends ever since.

Iris was good at gaming. Like, impossibly good.

So good she’d probably even beat Nobara.

But she wasn’t obnoxious about her wins, which was why Itadori enjoyed chatting with her so much.

Last time he talked to her was maybe six weeks ago. She’d been busy with her day job, but Itadori had been really busy with… well, everything to do with sorcery.

Surely she wouldn’t get weirded out about showing his older brother the ropes, right?

Iris was a private person, something Itadori could very respect, but he felt comfortable enough to invite her into this little debacle of his life now that Choso was going to be a permanent member of his family.

IRISSIRI IS ONLINE.

“Oh, cool, she’s on.”

“Who?” Choso asks, pushing a headphone off of his ear so he can hear Yuuji properly.

“My friend, Iris,” Itadori explains as he clicks to invite her to a party chat.

He then adds Choso, whose eyes widen at the magical sound of his little brother’s voice suddenly coming through the headset clear as day.

“This sounds…” 

Choso trails off, blinking as he hears the echo of his own voice.

Itadori laughs and leans over to mess with his settings once more. 

“Sorry — gotta mute yourself, buddy, otherwise we’ll get an echo going.”

Then a tiny chime sounds, and the brothers simultaneously stare at the television.

“Hello?”

Her voice is smooth as honey and soft, like she’s surprised to get the call.

Itadori immediately perks up, but he notices how Choso doesn’t move.

He just… stares, lips parted.

“Iris!” he greets excitedly. “Hey! Long time, no chat.”

“Yuuji,” she greets in return with a small smile in her voice. “Hey, no kidding. How’s it going? And who’s this…. Guest, person?”

“Oh — I haven’t given him a username yet. Iris, I wanted you to meet my big brother, Choso. Choso, this is my online friend Iris.”

He turns his head to look at Choso in the glow of the tv, but his brows furrow when he notices the pale complexion of Choso’s face turn a warm pink.

“Choso?” she asks, and Choso’s throat bobs.

Maybe he’s nervous about new people?

He’s never really been that nervous before.

“I didn’t know you had siblings!”

“Ha, yeah, it’s a complicated situation,” Itadori explains before flicking up his microphone stick so he can whisper directly to Choso: “You can speak in the microphone, you know.”

Choso clears his throat, his pink face turning scarlet in stark contrast to the black stripe across the bridge of his nose, before nodding. 

“....I’m his big brother.”

“Cool, cool,” she chides in return, and Itadori can’t even believe what he’s seeing:

His older brother practically melts in his seat as he presses a hand gently to his headphone as if to push it closer to his ear.

"It’s super nice to meet you, big brother Choso.”

Choso bites his lower lip and glances up at the screen. “You… have a really pretty voice—”

Uh oh.

Abort mission.

Itadori flies off of the end of the couch to quickly flick his microphone up to mute them both for a little familial aside. “Dude!”

Choso’s surprised, still sporting the blush. 

“What?”

“You can’t hit on my online friend!”

“I wasn’t hitting anyone, I was talking!” Choso hisses right back under his breath.

“Hitting on, not hitting!"

"Whatever!"

"Look: telling my friend she has a pretty voice is a little weird, okay?”

Suddenly the man looks a little worried. “It is?”

Itadori nods. “Yeah. Girls get bothered online all the time. Just… be cool.” 

He slowly drops his microphone back down.

Choso deflates and nods.

“Sorry about that! Yeah, no, he’s never played video games before so I thought we could show him how it’s done.”

“It's fine. But wait: he’s never played video games before?” Iris asks over her mic with a little laugh. “Seriously?”

Choso smiles small at that.

It’s lopsided and goofy. 

Itadori feels like he’s in the twilight zone.

“Did he live under a rock?” she adds in a gentle tease.

“Something like that.” Yuuji tells her, quickly loading up Fortnite for a game of Duos so Choso can listen and watch. “He’ll just hang with us while we play, if that’s cool with you?”

“So long as he doesn’t mind me asking him questions while we play,” Iris replies, sending a quick game invite to Itadori’s screen.

Both Itadori and Choso stare at one another.

Choso points at himself.

Itadori nods and points at him.

“Me?” Choso asks in a bit of a confused voice.

“Well, I’ve known your little brother for two years now, but I don’t exactly know you, ” Iris explains. “In a way, I kinda felt like his far-away big sister, so I'm happy to know he's got someone looking after him. So how old are you?”

Choso sits up a little taller.

“I'm one hundred and fif—”

“The same age as you!” Itadori chirps, cutting Choso off. “He’s twenty five.”

He can not have his normie friends find out about curse spirits and all of that insanity.

Itadori’s just grateful Sukuna never appeared cackling at his cheek in the middle of an intense match to make a pass out of bad taste.

Choso looks absolutely confused, but he slowly nods in tandem with Itadori’s pleading nod.

“...yes, I am... twenty-five years old.”

“Sweet, same age,” Iris chirps, and that goofy little look shows up on Choso’s face again.

(What gives, dude?!)

“And you’ve never played a single game before?” she asks as they load into the next lobby.

“I like Life.”

“The board game?”

“Yeah.”

“I was so bad at that game.”

“The spinner can really put you in debt,” Choso agrees with a solemn nod—

And Iris giggles.

Itadori blinks.

As he departs his character from the sky bus at the location Iris placed on the map, his lips begin to pull down to a grimace.

He’s never heard her laugh like that.

Not even when she's put toxic guys to shame and made them rage quit in Call of Duty.

“How did you meet my younger brother?” Choso asks, suddenly emboldened by the laugh.

“We met in a Destiny 2 lobby, actually,” Iris explains happily. “He helped me with a few of my bigger raids. When I found out the kid was fifteen-something, I felt like I had to make sure no one was a jerk to him in any future lobbies.”

“So you protected him?” Choso murmurs with surprise.

“More like shepherded him through games, sorta like a—”

“—big sister would,” Choso finishes for her.

“Kind of! Like I said earlier, Yuuji’s a good kid. And he’s really solid at playing games.” Iris clears her throat. “Yuuji, six o’clock. There is a drop over there.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

“Yuuji.”

“Miss!” Itadori corrects. “I mean Miss!”

“Jesus, he acts like I’m fifty sometimes,” Iris bemoans, and Choso smirks.

“Yeah. He acts like I’m a hundred and fifty,” the older man cheekily replies, and Itadori scowls.

On Itadori’s screen, they watch as a potential enemy rounds the corner of the building Itadori’s looting —

He doesn't act fast enough to attack —

But suddenly they fall to their knees, before bursting into confetti with all of their items strewn about.

K.O. 

They both hear Iris whistle from her microphone. 

“Respect your elders, kid.”

“Thanks, Eye. I didn’t realize there were people on my spot,” Itadori chimes.

Yeah.

Because he’s too busy listening to Choso act like he’s going to eat the mic to get closer to Iris —

And the fact that his online friend, his very normal friend, is giggling the way some girls giggle whenever…

They look…

At Gojo-sensei.

Itadori stops moving his thumbs on the controller, too deep in thought to play as Iris carries them.

She's scoping perimeters while he's busy putting the puzzle pieces together.

He's blushing.

She's giggling.

His Mikasa Ackerman avatar gets shot down, and Iris is shouting that she's coming back to save him —

But his eyes are on the guy opposite to him on the couch staring intently.

Not at the game, no.

At Iris’ little avatar that shows up every time she speaks.

Her icon's a little chibi Lara Croft.

Kind of like his generic Lara Croft icon.

Some weirdly-fated choice in a sea of happenstances.

Huh.

Wait a second.

"Hey, Choso, do you mind taking over for me in the next game?"

Choso whips his attention, eyes widening with uncertainty. "Me?"

Iris laughs again, and Itadori sees it in real-time: that butterfly-in-your-stomach goofy face, smack dab on Choso's lips.

"I'm down if you're down, Choso."

Quickly he takes the glowing controller from his younger brother and straightens up. "I can learn."

"Just don't go running off on me on the map, alright?" Iris requests playfully. "Stick with me and we'll easily get to last twenty."

"I won't fail you," Choso promises with a nod.

Itadori crosses his arms, observing and listening to Iris explain the game gently to Choso.

Although she was just as gentle with him, Itadori can hear something different in her voice. It's like she's trying to get Choso to answer her so he can talk. She asks him questions that will get him to talk more and more, until they're having a full-blown conversation without Itadori in sight.

Interesting.

He likes her voice, that much he's deduced.

But does she like his voice, too?

Something's happening here.

The cogs are turning.

Maybe —

Just maybe —

Yuuji Itadori can actually be a real, bonafide wingman.

.

[adventures-in-teyvat]

you guys know what’s crazy is that the shuumatsuban is literally an organisation that takes in orphan children and then trains them to become top secret ninjas. hello house of hearth sus amongus impostor

like sayu is literally an orphaned, traumatized child with abandonment issues. i headcanon she’s around 15 so technically she isn’t quite a child, but really, was she ever given a chance to be a child OR grow up? when children experience things beyond their years, it is ironic how as they grow up they seem to perpetually have the mind of a child and yet they have grown up way too fast and have never been a child at all. and so anyways you know what’s even sadder is that she’s literally depressed and yoimiya is the only person who notices and actually seems to care

anyways yeah i love sayu and i have an entire headcanon universe in which she actually receives care to make up for the lost years she spent raising herself after her master abandoned her because she was “ready” and they didnt want her to get attached to them😲

like thats why i love the dynamic between heizou and sayu (THAT IS IF THEY EVER ACTUALLY INTERACTED IN GAME. IM SO MAD ABOUT THIS THEY HAVE SUCH MASSIVE POTENTIAL, LIKE KANO NANA, THE SHRINE MAIDEN WHO CHASES HER, IS LTIWRALLY HEIZOU’S COUSIN. COME ON HOYO). heizou in my mind is her found family (and ofc yoimiya because yoimiya IS canon) because i think she deserves more than one character who would treat her like a sibling or child or just like she’s family. and also he would take her under his wing to help him solve cases and i just think that’s really neat because it would bring in a wonderful sort of dynamic like he’s teaching her and also taking her away from the shuumatsuban and also protecting her because obviously cases can be dangerous and also he’s her friend and literally acts like an older brother and i just think it’s wonderful and it would be such a wonderful change of scenery from how she is literally a depressed, orphaned teenager with no one to actually care about her except for yoimiya (who she thinks is annoying because she prioritizes sleeping and also misunderstands yoimiya’s intentions; yoimiya wants her to come to festivals to make friends, but sayu thinks she wants her to perform tricks, etc etc)

anywyas i just realized i never yapped indepth about why i always have had this headcanon friendship between heizou and sayu but this is why and i STILL want to write a long fanfiction about it but i dont have the capacity to focus on one thing at a time. anyways. ueah

[warpedlegacywrites]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Thank you for this ask @blarrghe!

Swept Away: Josephine Montilyet/Isabela. M. 75,162 words. This project was a real labor of love from start to finish. It was also the first work I ever made a concentrated effort to finishing before I published it. And the result, I think, is all the stronger for it. I adore this pairing as well, and I'm not usually given to rare pairs, but these two just sing to me. They fit so perfectly together, and I had so much fun imagining how that might happen. Major thanks to @rakshadow for being my ever-patient and ever-wise beta. And to @theluckywizard for the lovely artwork she contributed. You both helped this story take shape!

Lead Her Through the Darkness: Genfic. T. 3,121 words. One-shot. This was my first gift fic for an OC swap exchange, and I swear from start to finish I was possessed with this character. Ixchel is such an amazing protagonist and the symbolism around her, especially her name, felt such a vital piece of that, I wanted to explore that a bit. I am humbled and honored that @dreadfutures has taken this idea and run with it in her own canon. <3

Seeker, It's Cold Outside: Varric Tethras/Cassandra Pentaghast. T. 5,242 words. One-shot. Writing vitriolic banter is like 95% of the reason why I adore this pairing so much. Their dynamic is so messy, doomed from the start, but no less worthy of a story to be told just because the ending I foresee for them isn't an unambiguously happy one. It's moments like this one where I see them able to unpack themselves a little bit around each other, and that's so important for them both.

Fiercely Perish: Dorian Pavus/The Iron Bull. M. 23,033 words. Die Hard, but in Thedas. This was an April Fool's Day fic some years ago, and it remains a fic I look on fondly for how much unbridled fun it was to write. I especially love people recognizing the source material as they read and leave comments. It brings me such joy. This is also probably one of the sillier fics I've written, and I don't give myself the opportunity to lean into humor as often as angst. This is just. Fun. It's fun. I love it. ^_^

While Time Remains: Series. Cullen Rutherford/OC!mage!Trevelyan. M. 189,699 words, 2/4 planned arcs published. WIP. I'm cheating a little bit on this one since it's a series rather than one isolated fic. But the series is one continuous story, so I think I can count that. This was the series I turned to when I stalled on my main DAI-timeline longfic. Writing this gave me a chance to finally sink my teeth into the Cullen/Theresa pairing that I was longing for so badly with my main fic's slow burn. It also helped me really start to shape my voice as a writer, learning how to pace a story so that one arc felt complete while still being part of a greater whole. And it helped me discover my strengths as a writer, and grow in my confidence. But more than that, I was able to develop Theresa and Cullen's relationship beyond my wildest dreams. They've grown just as much as I have throughout the course of writing and planning this story for them, that was only originally conceived as a sweet and lighthearted domestic fluff series of vignettes. An epic, vast-sweeping story has grown out of those humble origins, and I can't wait until it's all finished and published so people can enjoy it in its entirety! ^_^

[absolutehomosexuals]

After all the backlash we received, we decided to expand our opinion on BG3's approach to companions's sexual orientations – or lack thereof, along with the not so mysterious reason behind this choice.

TLDR: Playersexuality was a marketing choice, due to the creator's own admission. Given the lack of a canon sexuality for any of the companions, our interpretations are just as valid as yours.

No matter how many arguments we make for our case, both times we analyzed a BG3 character's behaviour on the matter of their sexuality, many of the answers we received were fixated on the same rhetoric: "Larian planned for every character to be pansexual".

We're going to look into this matter specifically, to see what Larian stated precisely and what the reasoning behind that choice is.

We want to dig deeper into one of the infamous interviews* with Larian Studio's writers (Corcoran and Law) and narrative designer (Welch) that always gets brought up when someone dares to interpret any companion as anything but pansexual/bisexual.

The title speaks for itself already: Larian always took player's opinions and preferences for the game heavily into consideration when designing BG3, and never tried to hide this, making this feature of their writing and designing process a badge they wear proudly.

One example we can think of is quoted very early in the article: Halsin's role being expanded to a romance option after fans expressed their attraction to the druid.

But let's see what the interview actually says about the companions.

The question we're going to examine focuses on the MC's identity being the focal point of this feature.

So what do the interviewees have to say on this matter? What is the main thing they took into account when making this choice?

Law immediately expands on what the interviewer hinted at. Her main interest is being true to DnD's inherent sense of freedom and self expression, allowing the player to make every choice they desire to live their gaming experience as close to their fantasies as possible.

Of course she also brings the idea of all companions being pansexual to the table: but not only she attributes it to their "values", an argument that feels icky to say the least, implying that being attracted to all genders is a value, a moral principle, rather than a neutral characteristic some people have – but her main focus clearly seems to be not limiting the player's imagination to design choices.

Corcoran also centers his answer around player's freedom being the default of Larian's designing process, stating that assigning their characters "fixed roles" (like a game-impacting sexuality?? as if sexuality is a "role", ffs.) makes the game less dynamic. Yet again, what matters the most in the writers' view is allowing the player to portray their own story however they see fit.

Welch's answer is the only one that detaches itself from the other two's perspective, concentrating on how sexuality interacts with each character's identity. The "player-sexuality" that is so hated as a concept in the BG3 fandom is ironically quoted as the design choice for every companion's sexual orientation.

All three answers help us to draw a single conclusion: the companions' sexualities were taken into account as a consequence of the design choice to give the player as little limits as possible, rather than as a character trait that is independent from Tav and that expands each character's being as a person.

Of course, we don't think that this conclusion is absurd, from a marketing point of view especially: videogames that came out some time before BG3 confirmed that players dislike feeling "limited" in their romance options.

We can think of examples like Cyberpunk 2077, whose fans are still furious because of Judy's romance being available only to female V's, or Dragon Age Inquisition, whose canonically gay character Dorian made some female fans very upset by the impossibility to romance him if your character isn't male.

And surely these aren't the only games that left gamers unsatisfied by this design choice. These situations made the same point we got from this interview: players want to be free to fantasize about whatever character they like and to feel less limited as possible by any character's traits.

So Larian is right, players much prefer to be free to romance whoever they like with every MC they want.

After all, it's glaring that the game doesn't focus on representing bi/pansexuality as an authentic trait that the companions share.

Some characters tell the players about their past relations involving only people of their same sex, like Astarion and Minthara, while others don't talk about/never had any relationship at all, like Lae'zel and Shadowheart, and Gale has never been with anyone besides Mystra. Halsin is the only exception in this matter.

Little to no effort was put in making all the different companions feel truly attracted to both sexes. Most of the time, the only representation of this "identity" depends, of course, on the Tav the player decides to make only.

What does this mean for our argument then?

If anyone's free to imagine "their" companions to be whatever they want them to be, because this is the liberty that was intended to be available to any player, then how is reading someone like Astarion as gay, like Lae'zel as lesbian or like Gale as straight any different than imagining all of them as bi/pan? If this is the spirit of the game, to let anyone act out their dream campaign without any limits, then everyone's personal reading on the companion's sexual orientations is equally worthy of respect.

*https://gaymingmag.com/2023/08/how-community-feedback-has-shaped-baldurs-gate-3/

If a character being homosexual for example is what we see being more consistent with their story, their experiences and their expression of themselves... it wouldn't be true to Larian's project, the same one that allows a lot of you to see every companion as pansexual, to aggressively deny us the possibility to share this theory with others that may enjoy it and prefer it.