#I am both and neither of these characters

[redvexillum]

A/N: Hoe, Hoe, Hoe! Happy Holidays, folks! Can you believe it? We've made it to Day 25, and there's just one more story left before Smutmas officially comes to a close! This story is particularly special to me because it's a direct sequel to one of my very first ventures outside my comfort zone—Off Script—where I took on the challenge of writing Alastor as a sub. I really hope you all enjoy it! I did my best to keep him in character, so fingers crossed it hits the mark. And finally—Kit, let’s both finish Smutmas tomorrow with a… bang!

SUMMARY: Alastor thought he was being clever when he snuck extra spices into your gingerbread mix, but his bratty antics had consequences he clearly wasn’t prepared for. As sweet as you usually are, you’re also a master of dominance, and tonight, Alastor learns exactly what that means.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, pleasure dom! reader, bratty sub! alastor, alastor has a tail, oral sex, overstimulation, pegging, anal plug, aftercare, p in v, fluffy-wuffy, no ANGST (because people be thinking I'm writing angstmas??? >:U)

The first time you broached the topic of introducing your particular interests in the bedroom to Alastor, it did not go as planned. In fact, it spiralled into an entirely unforeseen direction. He veered off script, revealing an unexpected side of himself. It didn’t take long for you to realize something that honestly shouldn’t have been too surprising: Alastor was, perhaps, the most delightfully bratty submissive you had ever encountered. 

At first, you had been hesitant, cautious even, testing the waters with a delicate touch. You started slow, pinning his wrists above his head while straddling him, your slick folds gliding teasingly along the hard length of his cock. His body was tense beneath you, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he fought to remain still. And yet, you could see it—the flicker of amusement, the glint of curiosity, and the unspoken challenge in his ruby eyes. 

“Darling,” he rasped, his voice a mix of feigned irritation and genuine arousal, “you do realize I am the one in control here.” 

You leaned closer, your lips brushing his ear. “Oh, of course, love. It’s all for you,” you whispered, your voice dripping with honeyed submission, knowing full well how the words would stoke his ego. 

That balance—teasing the line between control and surrender—was crucial with Alastor. He was willing to explore these new dynamics with you as long as he felt the game was his to win. Over time, these intimate games deepened your connection, building trust in a way neither of you had anticipated. 

It was in these moments of play that you discovered just how much he enjoyed being edged. He saw it as a competition, a challenge, and every false word of bravado he muttered only made you more determined. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted one evening, his hands tied above his head as you licked a slow stripe along the underside of his cock. His body betrayed him, trembling with the effort of restraint even as he smirked. 

“Oh, you’ll see what I’ve got,” you replied sweetly, revelling in the sharp gasp that escaped him as you abruptly stopped, leaving him throbbing and desperate. 

In time, Alastor even began to participate in choosing the tools for your escapades. When you brought out a selection of dildos, he would inspect them with a meticulousness that was almost comical, tilting his head and tapping his chin as though he were selecting fine wine. 

“That one,” he’d say with a grin, pointing to the one you knew he loved. And when you took your time with him, thrusting the toy deep into his ass while your lips wrapped around his cock, he would surrender so completely it left you breathless. His body would go slack, his head tilting back as he moaned your name, every line of tension melting away. In those moments, he was utterly yours, and the vulnerability he showed was nothing short of beautiful. 

But, as you learned, this came with its own set of challenges. 

Take the time you had decided to edge him for hours as “punishment” for one of his pranks—spiking your tea with a hellpeppers just to see your reaction. He had whimpered, begged, and finally come undone in a way that left him breathless. But instead of deterring him, it only seemed to spur him on. From that day forward, his pranks became more frequent, each one more mischievous than the last, as though he were daring you to make good on your “punishments.” 

Like today. 

You had been looking forward to baking gingerbread cookies, humming softly to yourself as you worked. But when you took a bite of the first batch, you nearly gagged. The sweetness was overwhelmed by a fiery burn that made your eyes water. Whirling around, you saw him standing there, hands clasped behind his back, his signature grin stretching impossibly wide. 

“Alastor!” you snapped, pointing accusingly at the tray of ruined cookies. “Did you do this?” 

His laugh was a low, melodic hum, a sound that made your skin tingle. “Why, my dear, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” he replied, though his twitching nose and barely contained snicker betrayed him. 

You narrowed your eyes, stalking toward him as he took a step back, his grin faltering just slightly. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” you said, your voice syrupy sweet and laced with intent. 

The sharp click of your teeth echoed in the quiet kitchen as you fought to rein in the rising tide of frustration. Your eye twitched, your hands curling into fists at your sides as you surveyed the latest in a string of sabotages. The day had started with a simple enough task: helping Charlie decorate the hotel with festive holiday cheer. It should have been done in two hours. Two. Instead, six gruelling hours later, you were still at it, thanks to Alastor’s relentless interference. 

Like a mischievous shadow, he’d been everywhere, undoing your progress with a gleeful flourish, all while flashing that infuriating grin. 

Now, staring at the ruined cookie dough—a batch you’d painstakingly mixed, rolled, and shaped—your patience finally hit its breaking point. The thought of starting over from scratch, gathering ingredients, kneading dough, and baking again made your stomach churn. 

But just as you were about to storm off searching for a quiet space to collect yourself, something stopped you. 

The faintest movement caught your eye—the way the back of Alastor’s coat fluttered as he turned, the eager, almost expectant glint in his eyes as he glanced your way. 

And then it hit you. 

The realization came as a sharp pang of guilt. Between the influx of new sinners at the hotel, Charlie’s relentless schedule of events, and your constant involvement in helping out, you’d been neglecting Alastor. It hadn’t been intentional, but you couldn’t deny it either. Months had passed where you’d barely seen him outside of fleeting interactions, let alone shared any meaningful moments together. Even the intimacy of the bedroom had been replaced by nights spent alone in your own room. 

You sighed softly, the frustration in your chest shifting into something else—understanding, perhaps even regret. Of course, Alastor, with his peculiar ways, wouldn’t simply say he missed you. That wasn’t his style. No, this was his way of communicating, as exasperating as it was endearing. 

Walking toward him, your demeanour softened. Your fingers grazed lightly down the front of his chest, the movement enough to draw his attention. His grin faltered for just a moment as you spoke, your voice low and soft. 

“I’m going to my room,” you murmured, offering no further explanation as you turned and walked away. You didn’t need to look back to know he would follow. 

By the time you stepped into your room, the shadows shifted, and Alastor materialized before you with his usual dramatic flair. 

“Already, darling?” he chimed, his tone as jovial as ever. “Oh, I pity poor Charlie for hiring someone who can’t manage such a simple task,” he teased, his grin widening as he prodded at your lingering frustration. 

But this time, instead of rising to his bait, you smirked. Slowly, deliberately, you closed the distance between you, your eyes never leaving his. His playful expression faltered, just slightly, as you leaned in, resting your head against his chest. 

“I’m so disappointed, Alastor,” you whispered, your voice carrying a softness that belied the weight of your words. His body stiffened beneath your touch, and a shiver ran through him as your fingers deftly began to unbutton his shirt. 

“You’ve been so bad these last few weeks,” you continued, each syllable dripping with quiet reprimand. 

Alastor’s breath hitched as the fabric slipped from his shoulders, exposing his skin to the dim light of your room. “Oh, that’s what I do best,” he quipped, though his voice trembled slightly, betraying the bravado in his words. 

With a gentle push, he stumbled back onto the bed, his legs spreading instinctively as he leaned back on his arms. His cock twitched, already hardening, as he watched you climb onto him with methodical slowness. 

“And what will you do about it, darling?” he goaded, his tone laced with challenge. 

“Well,” you mused, straddling him without letting a single inch of your body touch his, “I suppose it’s only fair that I receive my recompense.” 

Your fingers traced the sharp lines of his face, moving with tenderness that made him shudder beneath you. His grin faltered, his composure slipping as you let your touch wander downward. Your nails ghosted over his chest, tracing patterns against his skin, stopping just shy of his now achingly hard cock. 

“Darling,” he rasped, his voice thick with need, his body trembling with the effort of restraint. 

“Patience,” you whispered, a smirk playing at your lips as you leaned in closer. “After all, you’ve been so bad—surely you understand the importance of a little... delay.” 

Alastor’s eyes burned with equal parts anticipation and defiance, but he made no move to stop you. For once, he was entirely at your mercy, and you intended to savour every moment. 

“Since you love to play around so much,” you murmured, your gaze locking onto his piercing crimson eyes, “let’s playtogether, Al.” 

Your words were honeyed, teasing, as your fingers finally wrapped firmly around the thick shaft of his cock. His breath hitched audibly, and for a fleeting moment, his ever-present grin wavered. That alone was victory enough, but you weren’t finished. Leaning in, you let your lips ghost over his, so close that your breath mingled with his. 

“Hours, Alastor,” you whispered, your voice dripping with promise. “I’ll play with you for hours.” 

The effect was immediate. His eyes fluttered closed, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips. The usual bravado he wore like a mask began to crack under the slow, deliberate stroke of your hand. You could feel the way he melted into your touch, his body responding with a shiver as the tension in him ebbed away. 

He no longer held back, no longer stifled the sounds he made or the soft confessions of what felt good beneath your touch. It had taken time, patience, and trust to reach this point, where he no longer masked his vulnerability in shame but surrendered to it with you. 

You pressed your other hand to his chest, urging him back, and he complied without resistance, lying against the bed as you worked him with skilled hands. His cock throbbed hot and heavy in your grasp, silken beneath your palm as you pumped it with slow, deliberate strokes. 

“D-Darling,” he breathed out, his voice trembling, his head falling back as his hips began to roll against your hand. His moans started low, rising in pitch as his body grew more desperate, his movements frantic in his chase for release. 

You matched his urgency, your hand moving faster, guiding him closer to the edge. His foreskin slid over the glossy tip of his cock, only to be drawn back down, exposing the glistening head with each thrust. The slick sounds of your motions filled the room, mingling with his erratic breaths and soft cries. 

“Darling, darling!” he cried out, his hips canting forward one last time before his release overtook him. Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted his chest, streaking his skin with creamy lines. His breath came in heavy, uneven pants as his body trembled in the aftershocks of pleasure. A haze of satisfaction clouded his crimson eyes, but beneath it, you saw the flicker of anticipation. He knew this wasn’t over. 

Your fingers lazily dipped into the sticky warmth of his release, swirling through it before lifting to your lips. Your tongue darted out, tasting him with a soft hum of appreciation. “Mmm, it’s been a while, hasn’t it, Al?” you teased, pressing a lingering kiss to the oversensitive tip of his cock. He jolted, his hips bucking instinctively at the sudden contact. 

“You haven’t been finding release without me, have you?” you asked, your voice sweet but laced with mischief. 

“Hah!” His laugh was strained, tinged with his usual bravado as he tried to recover some semblance of control. “Please, darling, I can hold myself back just fine,” he quipped, though his eyes darted away, betraying him. 

“Is that so?” you murmured, your tone light and teasing. Without warning, you leaned down, engulfing his still-soft cock with your mouth. 

Alastor hissed sharply, his claws sinking into the bedsheets as you drew back his foreskin with your lips, swirling your tongue over his sensitive head. His body jerked beneath you, trembling as overstimulation began to set in. 

“Ah, d-darling,” he panted, his voice shaky, the usual radio-filtered crackle distorted by the raw edge of his cries. “A-ah, ah!” His cock twitched weakly in your mouth, his body entirely at your mercy. 

You didn’t relent, your tongue working over him with precision, coaxing out every last tremor of pleasure you could draw from him. His head fell back, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat, as his hands fisted the sheets in a futile attempt to ground himself. His breath came in ragged gasps, his voice breaking as he moaned your name again and again. 

But you remained attuned to him, careful to read the signals of his body. Alastor, ever stubborn, would never admit when pleasure teetered on the edge of too much, and you wouldn’t let him push past his limits. For you, his pleasure was your greatest reward, the sight of him unravelling before you igniting a heat in your core that left you clenching and aching with need. 

Still, you slowed your ministrations, pulling back just enough to let him breathe, to bask in the blissful haze that softened his sharp edges. His trembling body told you everything his words wouldn’t—that he trusted you completely, in this and in everything else. 

The moment his thighs began to tremble, instinctively closing around your head, you knew it was time to stop. With a calculated precision, your lips tightened into a seal around his cock, sucking deeply one last time before pulling back. His length slipped free with a loud, wet pop, leaving him quivering and gasping beneath you. 

Alastor's abdomen fluttered with each shallow breath, his chest rising and falling erratically as he tried to gather himself. A thin sheen of sweat coated his pale skin, catching the soft light and accentuating the slight tremor that rippled through him. His crimson eyes, glazed and unfocused, stared blankly at the ceiling, his usual composure nowhere to be found. 

Your gaze softened as you admired the rare vulnerability etched into his features, but a spark of mischief flickered in your chest. Leaning forward, you dragged your tongue languidly along your middle and index fingers, wetting them thoroughly before trailing them downward. When you pressed the slick pads of your fingers against the tight ring of muscle between his cheeks, his entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. 

His sharp intake of breath was followed by a low, trembling moan as his crimson eyes flicked downward, meeting yours. That familiar grin of his began to reappear, albeit strained, but you matched it with one of your own. Slowly, deliberately, you worked your fingers inside, the tight, hot walls clenching around you as you sank deeper. 

“Ohhh,” he moaned, his voice pitching higher as his hips began an instinctive, grinding motion against your hand. Each stroke and press of your fingers sent shockwaves through his body, and you couldn’t help but relish the way he cried out your name, breathless and desperate. 

“Is this what you missed, Alastor?” you murmured, your voice dripping with sultry amusement. The heat pooling between your thighs was almost unbearable now, your soaked underwear clinging to your skin. You punctuated your question with feather-light kisses along the sensitive curve of his balls, earning another full-body shudder from him. 

“D-don’t be ridiculous,” he managed to huff out, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his bravado. His hips bucked against your hand, seeking more, needing you to go harder, deeper, faster. “You—hah—you’re the one who seems to need it more than I do!” 

His words faltered into a broken cry as you curled your fingers inside him, pressing directly against his prostate. The reaction was instant—his cock, already half-hard, twitched violently before stiffening completely, precum dripping steadily from the swollen tip. Thin, sticky strands pooled on his stomach, glistening in the dim light. 

“I-I c-can smell you,” he groaned, his voice cracking with static as the radio distortion flickered uncontrollably. “I can s-smell your arousal, d-darling.” 

His eyes fluttered as he struggled to focus on you, the effort clear in the way his brows furrowed, and his lips parted with ragged breaths. You smiled wickedly, never ceasing the relentless rhythm of your fingers as you leaned in close. 

“Is that your way of saying you want me to ride you, Alastor?” you teased, your tone saccharine sweet, as you slowly withdrew your fingers. 

The way his ears flattened against his head and his lips pressed together to smother the pitiful whine that escaped him was nothing short of endearing. You straightened up, locking to his gaze as your hands moved to peel away your clothing. 

One by one, the layers fell away, revealing more of your heated skin to him. Alastor’s crimson eyes darkened with unrestrained hunger, his slender fingers flying to his cock, stroking himself slowly as he devoured the sight of you. The moment your panties slid down your legs, his attention zeroed in on the dark, damp patch that clung to the fabric. 

The sight of how soaked they were made his breath hitch. His grip on his cock tightened, his strokes quickening ever so slightly as he watched you stand before him, completely bare, the evidence of your arousal dripping down your thighs. 

Picking up your damp underwear, you held it delicately between your fingers, bringing it close to Alastor’s face. His eyes, smouldering with unrestrained hunger, followed the movement intently. A sly grin curled your lips as you whispered, “Go on. I know you’ve been dying to taste me.” 

In the past, he would have resisted—an adamant refusal to entertain such a base desire. But now? Now, his restraint was a distant memory. He eagerly took the fabric from your hand, his sharp grin widening as he pressed it to his lips. His tongue darted out, licking and suckling on the soaked material, his moans vibrating softly into the delicate fabric. He savoured every drop, his eyes fluttering shut as if lost in your essence. 

While he indulged, you turned your attention to the drawer by the bed, fingers searching for a specific item. A soft laugh escaped you as you pulled out the toy you’d been looking for—one of his favourites. The memory of the day he wore it, the secret only the two of you shared as he moved through the hotel with it snug inside him, made heat rush to your cheeks. 

The anal plug, adorned with curvy ridges and capped with a glittering pink heart at its base, glinted in the low light. Alastor froze mid-lick, his gaze snapping to the toy. His tail, which had been lazily swaying, thumped excitedly against the bed. 

You teased him further, holding his gaze as you slowly lowered the plug to your wet core. You pressed the tip to your entrance, coating the ridges in your slick. Alastor’s breath hitched, and a groan slipped past his lips as he watched you pump the toy in and out of yourself, each movement deliberate, each moan of yours feeding his anticipation. 

By the time you pulled the toy free, glistening and dripping with your arousal, Alastor had already lifted his legs, spreading them wide to present himself. His sharp grin turned expectant, almost demanding, his crimson eyes glinting with challenge and desire. 

You chuckled at his eagerness, running your free hand along the curve of his thigh. “Patience, darling,” you murmured. He squirmed beneath you, his cock twitching against his stomach as you pressed the slick plug against his entrance. Slowly, you began to work it in, the ridges catching slightly against his tight walls before sliding deeper, inch by inch. 

Alastor’s breath came out in stuttering gasps, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as the plug seated itself fully to the base. His cock throbbed, a bead of precum trailing down to pool on his stomach. He looked utterly wrecked, his body trembling and his chest heaving as he adjusted to the sensation of fullness. 

But you weren’t done. Without giving him a moment to recover, you straddled his hips, gripping his throbbing length and guiding him to your entrance. In one fluid motion, you sank down onto him, taking him to the hilt. His reaction was instant—a sharp gasp, his hands flying to your hips as his back arched off the bed before collapsing again. 

The tight heat of you gripping him drove him wild. His cock twitched inside you, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through both your bodies. But your focus wasn’t on his body—it was on his expression. His usually sharp grin softened, his crimson eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. His body trembled beneath yours, the rare vulnerability in him stirring a possessive warmth in your chest. 

He hummed low in his throat, a sound of pure, unfiltered delight, as you leaned forward. Pinning his wrists beside his head, you met his gaze, your movements slow at first. Each roll of your hips elicited a delicious tremor from him, his breath climbing with every downward thrust. 

“Y-you’re i-insatiable, d-darling,” he managed, his voice trembling as your pace quickened. 

You smiled wickedly, increasing the rhythm, the sound of skin meeting skin mingling with his stuttering breaths and deep moans. His sharp cries soon gave way to something softer, more desperate, as his body began to tense beneath you. His head fell back, exposing the long line of his neck as his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Look at me, Alastor,” you commanded softly, and his gaze snapped back to yours. The raw, unguarded desire and faint embarrassment in his expression sent a thrill through you. His cries grew louder, his hands flexing against your grip as he reached his peak. 

With one final, broken moan, his body shuddered violently beneath yours, his cock twitching as he spilled into you. The hot flood of his release filled you, his seed coating your walls as he gasped for air. His body remained taut for a moment before he melted into the bed, utterly spent, his eyes glazed with lingering satisfaction. 

Catching your breath, your body hummed with unresolved need, but it didn’t matter. Watching Alastor surrender beneath you, unravelling with every calculated touch, was pleasure enough. 

His lips were parted, a thin line of saliva glistening at the corners as his chest rose and fell in uneven gasps. The edges of his crimson eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his expression—dazed, undone—was utterly intoxicating. His usual composed veneer had crumbled, leaving him bare in every sense. 

A quiet chuckle escaped you as you finally lifted yourself from his trembling form, feeling the warm trickle of his release sliding down your thighs. “We’re not done yet, Al,” you teased, your voice carrying a sing-song lilt. “We still have one more of your favourites, remember?” Reaching for the strap-on, you held it up—a big, crimson silicone cock gleaming in the dim light, its impressive weight resting heavy in your hands. 

You caught the way his body tensed, his tail twitching in anticipation, but there were no sharp remarks, no coy retorts. He was beyond that now, surrendering completely. With a sluggish roll, he shifted onto his stomach, his cheek pressing into the bed as his hips lifted, presenting himself to you. His red-and-white tail puffed out and flicked upward, revealing the sparkling jewel of the heart-shaped plug still nestled snugly within him. 

“Good boy,” you purred, and his tail wagged weakly in response. His fingers reached back, spreading himself open, stretching his cheeks taut in a silent plea. 

You smiled, strapping the harness to your hips, the familiar weight grounding you in this moment. Slowly, deliberately, you began easing the plug from his entrance. Each inch coaxed a muffled whimper from him as he buried his face in the mattress, his body trembling beneath your hands. The resistance gave way, and with a final tug, the jewelled plug slid free, leaving his entrance clenching and exposed. 

The sight of him, so open, so needy, sent a surge of heat pooling low in your core. You rested a hand on his hips, guiding the slicked synthetic cock to his waiting entrance. Without hesitation, you thrust forward in one fluid motion, burying yourself to the hilt. 

Alastor choked on a cry, his body jolting forward before he melted into the bed, a low, guttural moan spilling from his lips. His claws raked over the blankets, shredding the fabric in a desperate bid for control. 

But there was none to be had—not here, not now. 

You set a relentless rhythm, your hips snapping forward with precision, filling him over and over. The wet slap of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with his muffled cries and the breathless moans you couldn’t suppress. The way his body clenched around you, his walls tightening with every thrust, only spurred you on. 

“Ah—ah—darling,” he panted, his voice breaking into a mix of static and white noise as pleasure overwhelmed him. His body arched beneath you, his hips rolling back to meet your thrusts with desperation. 

“You like this, don’t you?” you murmured, your breath hot against his ear. “Being filled so completely… You’re so beautiful like this, Al.” 

His only response was a shattered moan, his body spasming violently as he came again, thick ropes of his release painting the ruined bed beneath him. But even as his trembling form sagged into the mattress, you didn’t stop. 

“Isn’t this fun, Alastor?” you panted, your grin wicked as you leaned over him, your pace unrelenting. “I could do this all night.” 

His claws curled into the shredded fabric, his body shaking with overstimulation as he gasped and whimpered beneath you. He was utterly wrecked, undone, every piece of him yours in this moment—and it was everything you had missed. 

Your hands slid to either side of his trembling frame, hovering over him as you moved with deliberate intensity. His voice had dissolved into a symphony of broken moans and guttural grunts, his ears pinned flat against his head in a rare display of vulnerability. Leaning closer, your breath ghosted over his ear as you purred, “Let me see your face, Al. Don’t rob me of my pleasure.” Your fingertips traced the back of his head, the touch tender yet insistent. 

He shivered at your words, slowly turning his head to meet your gaze. His lips hung open, strands of saliva pooling beneath his cheek. His crimson eyes, distant and unfocused, shimmered with tears that spilled in streaks down his flushed cheeks. And yet, despite his unravelling, the faint trace of a grin lingered—a testament to his unyielding spirit. 

“More?” you asked, voice laced with teasing affection. Alastor’s only reply was a low, ragged moan as his hips pressed back against you, silently pleading. A soft chuckle escaped you as your fingers danced down the curve of his spine, drawing a visible shudder from him. “You really are a masochist, aren’t you, Al?” you murmured, your words barely above a whisper. 

When his moans faltered into silence, his teeth clenching as he fought to muffle the smallest of whimpers, you knew he’d reached his limit. Carefully, you slowed your movements, easing out of him with a touch as gentle as a whisper. Both of you were coated in a thin sheen of sweat, your breath coming in soft pants as you sat back. 

Alastor lay trembling, his body spent and quivering in the aftermath. Every so often, his legs would twitch, jolting with the lingering aftershocks of overstimulation. His hand reached out, trembling and seeking, and you didn’t hesitate to meet it, intertwining your fingers with his. The silent gesture spoke volumes—his need for your warmth, your gentleness, your grounding presence. 

With care, you removed the strap-on, setting it aside before sliding into the bed beside him. Your body folded seamlessly into his, your hand cradling his as you pressed a tender kiss to his knuckles. His half-lidded eyes locked onto yours, filled with exhaustion and unspoken affection, unable to look away. 

Smiling softly, you lifted his hand, your lips brushing over each finger with reverence. One by one, you kissed his thumb, his index finger, trailing your touch over his palm. The gesture was unhurried, filled with tenderness, as you snuggled closer to him, your lips finding the curve of his shoulder. 

A warm chuckle rumbled low in his chest, his voice soft and worn. “Darling,” he rasped, his tone laden with affection as his tail gave a lazy thump against the bed. He sighed deeply, basking in the featherlight kisses that travelled up his neck and over his face. His cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyelids—all received your gentle attention before your lips finally found his. 

The kiss lingered, a soft press of emotion and intimacy. When you pulled back, his voice, though hoarse, carried a familiar teasing lilt. “You’ve been far too busy this month,” he murmured, his crimson eyes slowly opening to meet yours. 

Your heart swelled, warmed by the rare vulnerability in his gaze. You smoothed back a stray strand of hair from his face, your fingers brushing his skin with care. “I have, haven’t I?” you answered softly. Your lips curved in a tender smile as you leaned down to kiss him again, the touch light, barely there. “I missed you,” you whispered against his lips, your voice thick with sincerity. 

He chuckled again, though it was tired and weak. “And yet, you chastise me about your cookies,” he teased, his grin slipping back into place. 

“Ruining my cookies,” you corrected with a mock glare, your tone playful. 

“You love it when I spice up your – ah – cookies,” he countered, his voice carrying a faint echo of words he’d said long ago—a callback to the early days of trust and intimacy you’d built together. 

A soft giggle bubbled from your lips as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes brimming with affection for the cunning, mischievous demon you adored. “You’re such a silly man,” you whispered, nuzzling your nose against his. 

His arms came around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear was a comforting reminder of the unspoken bond you shared. In that quiet moment, you held each other close, the world beyond forgotten. Only the warmth of his body and the soft hum of his love remained. 

“And you, my darling, are my special girl,” he murmured, his voice a tender caress against the quiet of the room. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, his lips warm and soft. Slowly, his breathing steadied, each exhale becoming longer, deeper, until it melted into the gentle rhythm of sleep. 

You stayed there, cradled in his embrace, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. A gentle smile tugged at your lips as your fingers traced small, absent-minded patterns along his side. The warmth of his words lingered in your heart, a balm to the chaos and distance of recent days. 

As you listened to the quiet thrum of his heartbeat, you made a silent promise to yourself. Next time, you’d find ways to give him the attention he deserved, to show him how much he meant to you—perhaps even preempt whatever mischievous “spicing up” he might dream up to draw your focus. 

For now, though, your heart felt full, brimming with love and contentment. Snuggling closer to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his warmth, your body fitting perfectly against his. The steady cadence of his heart matched your own, the two rhythms intertwining as if they were always meant to be. 

You closed your eyes, a peaceful smile lingering on your lips. Wrapped in his arms, you let sleep claim you, your dreams filled with the love you shared and the quiet promise of all the moments yet to come. 

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[grammarpedant]

Nope. Trap card #2, activated: There's no evidence that Gurathin is from the Corporation Rim.

The fanon that Gurathin is CR comes from a single line in Exit Strategy: Ratthi says, "It came to Preservation packed into the hold of that much bigger ship, the one that’s become the station, with our grandparents. Well, not Gurathin’s grandparents, he came later." Personally, I think there's even room here to interpret Gurathin as being born on Preservation as the child of immigrants, if Ratthi's use of "he came later" is taken as an imprecise synecdoche for Gurathin's family origins as a whole. Given that this is Ratthi "I'll get the cases" "I'm a biologist, I don't understand this money stuff" being sentimental and distractable in this scene, it's a fair cop.

Either way, "came later" does not mean "from the Corporation Rim." There are plenty of other places in the setting that are neither Preservation nor the CR. As early as Artificial Condition another set of non-corporate polities is mentioned, Rami's Divarti Cluster; it's not clear whether Don Abene's homesystems in Rogue Protocol are corporate or noncorporate, but she certainly has no "bone-deep" fear of SecUnits; Fugitive Telemetry meanwhile expounds on travel routes through Preservation Station stretching elsewhere "outside the Rim." The Rim is only one group of places that a human could be from.

No, people are mixing up Gurathin's backstory with Human One's. It's Human One who is the former corporate contract slave, and SHE is the one who acted rationally on her bone-deep, knee-jerk fear of SecUnits in shooting Murderbot in the back. She's not the only corporate-background character to interact with MB, though—even if we did want to headcanon that Gurathin did hail from the CR, we might just as reasonably compare Gurathin's "We just have to keep you immobilized" to Ras and Eletra's "Just tell it to take orders from us" and "It seems like you don't know how to control it" in Network Effect. Their corporate fear and prejudice and desire for control certainly does not stop them from thinking—with clear self-interest, if not rationally or clearly.

People can headcanon whatever they like, of course. By all means, if giving the backstory of a strong and fascinating female character to Gurathin tickles the fancy, then I encourage people to do that on their own time. But this post is my post, and I am not obligated to care about the things people made up outside the text in my analysis of the text.

Finally, let me address a point that's cropped up more than once now. We all know it's not easy to set aside prejudice and in-group bias and fear of the unknown to make rational or kind decisions. We all live in the real world and many of us have personally had to wrestle with the effects of unthinking fear and prejudice, both others' and our own. The Murderbot Diaries is a series that speaks to us as full thinking adults on this matter, that's why kindness is presented as a rational choice, not merely a morally right one. The series acknowledges that it's hard, but at the same time doesn't allow you to wallow in your own struggles to the exclusion of others'—it still asks you to try to see other people clearly for who they are and what they need, and use what agency you have to do right by them. Gurathin fucked up in this scene, then later stepped up and learned better, and rather than focusing over-much on how hard he had it we should learn from his example and do better.

Gurathin is not only wrong, his argument is fundamentally irrational

Gurathin's argument in ASR:

We need to immobilize this SecUnit stat, because it's going to kill us.

I know it's going to kill us because its logs show that it's rogue. If there is no way to control it, then it is dangerous to us.

It is controlled by the Company to sabotage us. "The missing hazard report, the missing map sections. The SecUnit must be part of that." If it wasn't, that would be a coincidence, which is unbelievable.

This SecUnit has gone rogue and killed people in its charge before. It may do so again.

PresAux's counterargument:

It may be rogue, but that doesn't logically mean it will kill us. "The fact that the Unit has been acting to preserve our lives, to take care of us, while it was a free agent, gives us even more reason to trust it." (Volescu)

Someone may be sabotaging us, but that doesn't logically mean it's the Company or our SecUnit. "There were only three SecUnits for DeltFall in their specs, but there were five units in their habitat. Someone is sabotaging us, but I don’t think our SecUnit is part of it." (Ratthi)

If the SecUnit was trying to sabotage us, then why would it tell us about the combat module sabotage and shoot itself? (Bharadwaj, Overse)

The SecUnit believes it went rogue as a result of malfunction, and that hacking its governor module would prevent a repeat occurrence. Confirmation of its sincerity comes from the same logs that Gurathin accessed for his arguments. (Volescu)

Gurathin's counter-counterargument:

Well it gave itself an edgy nickname

[tubbytarchia]

Thank you for speaking up on both cc and the char, I'm one of the people who mostly stays silent about it because I know fandom would consider it queerphobia (even though i am neither cis nor het but whatever), but some of cc's actions and words (the things you mentioned and also when mcc date was going to be on an important to some minority holiday (don't remember which one, sorry) and people were frustrated about it and asking to move it and scott tweeted something along the lines of 'glad qrts aren't easily visible anymore lol !') really made it difficult for me to see him in a positive light; as for the character, his twisting of the narrative and social game are frustrating from the point of view of a joel's character's fan (every time I see a 'Scott is just making friends and Joel is focusing him!!' I claw at my hair), but at the same time at least it creates for interesting parallel of two strong players ig; anyway, yapped too hard here, thank you for speaking up what you think again *thumbs up emoji*

Nooo you guys never yap too hard!! And you're absolutely right, I remember that holiday incident as well. it's very similar to that nsfw artist situation where Scott was just mostly ignorant, not at all malicious, which is something that happens to the best of us, there is nothing there inherently for me to dislike Scott for. But his handling of these situations is what makes me shift my gaze. I wish it could be seen as something to criticize and to learn from, like, how things normally go. But I guess the parasocial connection runs too deep (and nothing inherently wrong with being parasocial either imo, I'm definitely parasocial towards many creators I like, just not to the point that criticism stops having a valid place in internet culture and media)

[wynnerwynner]

𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐋

jacaerys velaryon x fem!cregan's sister!reader

when Y/N returns home to winterfell, she seeks her brothers' approval to marry the targaryen prince.

request: no

warnings: mention of character death, mild grief

wc: 1.8k

a/n: just a quick little jace imagine! although i'm not sure if it constitutes entirely as a jace imagine since there's more reader and cregan LOL

It was a wonder how the crypts of Winterfell could be considered an honorary place when it was so dank. Jonnel could not feel the cold anymore, but as Y/N looked up at his statue, she wondered how her brother was not rising from death simply to complain. He’d never been built for a place like Winterfell. Neither was she. That’s why she moved to Dragonstone and led a simple life selling sea glass to ignorant tourists. Or maybe it was to escape his shadow in the halls, or to escape his spirit still in the walls, knocking and banging through the servants corridors.

Hesitantly, Y/N placed her hand on Jonnel’s cold statue, lowering her head.

“He’d be proud of you.”

Y/N locked eyes with Cregan, walking towards her. He knelt beside her and stared up at Jonnel’s stone face.

“I have something to tell you,” she said carefully.

Cregan gazed at her.

“I befriended Prince Jacaerys—while at Dragonstone.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

Y/N chuckled, making him smile. “I love him.” When he didn’t react, she added, “He loves me.”

Cregan looked at their brother thoughtfully.

She licked her lips. “Say something or I may be sick all over Jon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I am,” she scoffed.

“These are treacherous waters, Y/N.”

“The Queen has inquired much into my married life. I believe she’s interested. She sees much of us.”

“She hasn’t sent me any letters,” he countered.

“I’m sure she will,” she consoled him. “She’s a little busy planning a war, Cregan.”

“Y/N, he’s not just any Prince,” Cregan looked at her. “He’s Rhaenyra’s son. Rumours are that he’s a…”

“I don’t care,” she snapped.

“Whatever rumours and heresy follow him, go to you too,” he replied calmly. “Your children would be considered an insult to the throne with the rumours of his legitimacy.”

Y/N removed her hand from her brother, clenching it in her lap, “I don’t care.”

“You can’t just say you don’t care!” his voice echoed off the walls.

Y/N turned to face him. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Cregan stared at her.

“This is what father and mother wished for me,” she exclaimed. “To get married, to have children, like the perfect little Lady. I never thought I’d want this, but now I do and I want it with Jace.” Her brows furrowed and she stood, shaking her head. “You’re just angry because I have something good and you have the same old castle with the same old servants and the same old soldiers.”

Y/N fast-walked out of the crypts, leaving both her brothers in the cold underground.

***

“Enter.”

Y/N set down her quill as Cregan stepped through the door. After shutting it, he took a few steps in. Her eyes immediately locked onto the floor. 

“What’re you doing?” he wondered aloud.

“Writing to Jace,” she replied, jaw tense. “Lucerys Velaryon is planning a trip to speak with you. I’m letting him know he will be well looked after here.”

Cregan nodded thoughtfully.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” she began, teeth so tense they could crack. “I don’t think you’re angry I have different opportunities.”

“I’m not angry… though I am jealous.” Cregan sat in a chair near the burning hearth. “You’re right. You get to leave Winterfell and meet all manner of people whenever you choose and I get the same view I’ve seen since I was a babe. But that’s just my position. I am Lord whether I like it or not.”

“You could give it up,” she mumbled at her parchment.

“And give it to who? Benjen?”

Her eyes rolled. “Benjen would burn this place down.”

Cregan laughed, nodding. “He would.” He sighed. “Winterfell may be my hell, but it is also my home. I belong here. Clearly, you do not.”

After less than a second of sullen silence, he added, “Y/N, your Lord Brother demands you to look at him, please.”

She looked up at him, although still with a sour expression.

“I love Jace,” she mumbled.

“I know you do,” he said softly.

“You must let me go, Cregan,” her quill clacked against the table as she emphasized his name.

“I’m trying,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “I do not wish to see you forced onto a battlefield as a result of him.”

“Women who do not end up on a battlefield are put through childbearing,” she said. “That is our battlefield.”

Cregan nodded, “I have always been terrified at either thought.”

Y/N watched her brother as he stood.

“I will send a raven to Dragonstone… requesting the Prince to accompany his brother. It is integral the future King witnesses the army that will be fighting for him and his mother.”

***

By the Lord of Winterfell’s request, Y/N was in the Great Hall, dining alongside him. She had been up all night, anticipating Jace’s arrival, so she’d much rather have been in her bed. Although, she couldn’t complain too much as the Great Hall was closer to the gate than the Great Keep.

At the rattle of dishes, Cregan flinched.

“He’s here!” Y/N shouted, leaping from the bench and running for the door.

“Y/N,” he called. “Y/N!”

She ignored him, running out of the hall gleefully, skirts in her hands.

Servants and working men backed out of the way of her in the courtyard. It had been a long time since she ran amuck through the castle. She could almost feel her brother chasing after her.

 As she got to the courtyard of the southern gate, the wooden doors opened wide. While others bowed their heads, Y/N raced across the mud.

A smile broke out on Jace’s face as she came toward him.

Y/N leapt into his arms. The entirety of Winterfell was silent as they watched Jace and Y/N walk hand-on-arm across the courtyard, over to a glaring Cregan. She ignored the look of disapproval from him. She was much too excited to care.

“Apologies for the informalities of my dear sister,” Cregan said. “I assure you, she has been raised better than this.”

“No apologies necessary,” Jace smiled, glancing at her. He patted her hand hooked under his arm. “I believe she and I are long past formalities.”

Cregan nodded once, not willing to debate with the prince.

“Oh, relax, Brother,” she groaned. “He’s not going to bite your head off.”

“You have known the Prince for quite a while, Y/N. I have only just met him today. Prince Lucerys,” he bowed.

Lucerys nodded with a regal smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark.”

“Take us to your crypts,” Jace said. “We should like to pay our respects to your father.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

***

Y/N cracked the servants door as she listened in on her brother and Jace speaking by the hearth.

“Do you love ‘er?” Cregan said over the crackling fire.

“She makes me the best version of myself,” Jace answered. “She’s taught me to look at the world differently.”

“I didn’t ask how she makes you feel, I asked if you love ‘er,” her brother replied. “Y/N has always been able to make people feel important,” he mumbled. Cregan looked at his hands, rubbing them together.

“When our mother fell sick,” he added, “our father refused to leave her side. Shortly after she passed, so did he from the same. Overnight I not only became a lord and a warden, I became a father and mother to my brother and sister. I’ve raised them since they were ten and one. They were children.”

“You have another brother?”

Cregan’s eyes narrowed at him, “She never told you she has a twin?”

Jace shook his head.

“It is an indescribable pain when you lose your twin. I’m not surprised she never told you. She hasn’t spoken of him since his death.”

Cregan leaned back in his chair and looked Jace in the eyes.

“I say all of this because the love she feels for you could destroy her if it is not returned tenfold. You may be next in line for the throne, Jacaerys Velaryon, but you are nothing but skin and bones to me when it comes to my little sister. If you hurt her or do not love her, I will serve the Queen until the day of her death but the moment she takes her last breath I will not answer your summons.”

Jace looked to the fire, nodding.

“I love her,” he finally answered. “I’d take an arrow for her.”

“But would you take almost two million? Because that’s how many soldiers the Greens have.”

“Of course I would,” Jace looked at him, affronted. “I’d give my life if it meant she could safely stay out of this war.”

“If she takes your name she gains a target on her back.”

“She has a target even if she’s a Stark,” Jace argued. “She is a Lady of Winterfell and the Warden of the North’s sister. Everyone you love has a target on their back.”

“What can you do to protect her that I haven’t already?” Cregan’s voice became quiet, careful. He was assessing him. “She can be quite unwilling to listen to the reality of the world.”

“Y/N is reasonable,” Jace countered. “I believe she’s more understanding of reality than you or I. When you die, she does not become Lady of Winterfell or Warden of the North, she is expected to have her heir do that. She is luckier than us in the sense that she does not have as many expectations, so she may bend those rules.”

Cregan’s brows were furrowed in concentration.

“If I approve of this marriage, you must do everything to keep her alive and happy. You must lay down your life if it comes to it. She is all I have left, Jacaerys. I will never forgive you if she is put in harm's way.”

“I’d ruin my name—I’d strip my title if need be to bring her home safe to you. Whatever is necessary, I’ll do it,” said Jace.

Cregan stared at him.

“You're a good man, Jacaerys. And I hope you’ll make a good King, too.”

Jace nodded solemnly. “I will. For her, I will.”

“Scaring him off already, Brother?”

Jace’s head whipped to the doorway as she walked through.

“How much of that did you hear?” Cregan asked over his shoulder.

“I could say none of it, though you wouldn’t believe me,” Y/N squeezed Jace’s shoulder.

Cregan stared at his sister and the man she wished to marry. She saw him recognize the way Jace look at her and watched him sigh out of his nose.

“Your Highness, if I could have a moment alone with my sister…”

“Of course.”

When Jace left the room, she sat where he once was.

“He reminds me much of Jon.”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “He does.”

“Y/N if this is what you want… then I support you. I’m sure he would, too.”

She fought the tears pricking at her eyes. “Thank you, Cregan.”

[yokelish]

Well, I might have argued my point in slightly wrong direction. It's not "bad writing" that I have issues, it's the writing that's lacking. The foundations are there, no one bothered to actually build anything on it tho. My main argument for Neve/Lucanis relationship isn't that it's bad., it's doomed. Because the game gives me little to no reason to think otherwise with the writing that you are presented in the game. Nevanis as a relationship is underdeveloped to a point of coming across as fairly superficial. It's not that Neve and Lucanis are bad for each other. It's worse. They are nothing each other. They are an indulgence, a pleasant, romantic dalliance in shitty times. The writing doesn't suggest they can make each other better. It doesn't suggests they can make each other worse. it suggests next to nothing outside of, frankly, hottest banter. I love it. I hate it.

There is potential. It's wasted. It's ignored. The game wants to sell me an idea and gives me no reason to buy into it. Veilguard is actually very good at this. For example, the game tries to sell me I can trick Solas with a fake dagger. It gives me no reason to believe I could actually do it outside of "you are the main character". The game wants to introduce you ideas it doesn't even want you to sell on. You can discuss with Davrin the future of griffons, say that there is no changing one nature, say that redemption and change are impossible. But then give griffons to Arlathan, to embrace change, and Davrin won't even say "Huh. That's surprising."

Nevanis isn't inherently bad, its just the writing is so terribly lacking. The point of writing a relationship is you actually believe it. I am incredibly skeptical of any relationship that is happening because proximity and war times. I believe Taash and Harding relationship because of how it was written. I believe the romance between Dorian and Bull lasting -- not forever maybe-- but at least 5-7 years. Because of how it was written. Emmrich and Strife are put into an interesting place because one person is not your companion so you can't really know. But the very little you can gather about Emmrich and Strife is that a. they are both mature men who are not new to this game b. they take this relationship seriously c. neither is a stranger to more impermanent romances so whichever way their relationship swings is totally fine. If it's forever? Ok. If it's temporary? Fine too. They can be Dorian and Bull. They can be Blackwall and Josie. Even where Emmrich and Strife take place is more compelling.

An argument can be made that Nevanis takes place in the same space as Emmrife. And I can will agree with you, under the condition that the relationship is far more likely to be temporary. Their lives are duty bound, they both live in a lot of darkness (talk about balance Davrin, it's hard to make light when you never had to), their lives are always on the line, they bond over said darkness a lot....

Lucanis and Neve are only as interesting as the questions you shouldn't be asking. Especially if Lucanis is the Hardened one. Because after Lucanis gets hardened, they just kinda leave him there. Hardened against what? Mostly the player. But also not. Because certain cutscenes do not change regardless of where Lucanis stands with you. Hardened Lucanis and Rook relationship should have been complicated, but it's also not. Hardened Lucanis could have developed a more Spite-inclined streak, he could have grown more selfish, tired and traumatized by people who either see him as an obstacle or a tool. But he doesn't? Not really? Hardened Neve is much better written in my opinion, especially -- again, my opinion -- if you only pursue platonic friendship. Because Hardened Neve going through the turmoil of romantic feelings is expected, Hardened Neve going through "you let me down once why now have you decided to support me and why do i feel so fucking grateful for having a friend in you' is another.

I would like to emphasize: it's fair you as the leader of the Veilguard, get the brunt of the Hardened Character. You made the call, you live with the consequence. Consequence being one of your companions and their dynamics with you is irrevocably changed. That's fine. What's more upsetting that complexity -- the compelling factor, the oomf that should have happened -- of Hardened Lucanis's journey gets chucked into the Fade Prison. They made the decision to Harden Neve and Lucanis when writing them. Could they have added a bit more for Hardened Neve? Totally. But even then, her hardened path does leave me so wanting. You get it. The complex relationship you are having, the feelings that are all tangled up in a yarn ball. But instead of expending on Hardened Lucanis, they cut it. It is meant to basically say Lucanis cuts himself off from you, that there is a line he will not let you cross (but also not). Hardened Neve is interesting, she compels me so. Hardened Lucanis is...there.

When Hardened Lucanis doesn't give you an option about Illario, that was great. That was the only interesting thing tho. Lucanis taking away choice from player that would be there had he not been Hardened. But that's the most and the only intersting thing they do with him.

Neve gets development on hardened path. She is going against her instincts because she sees the needs of Dock Town cannot be met by her alone, she dismisses principles because they no longer work or apply to blighted Minrathous and much empowered Venatori. She understands that to continue to fight for Dock Town, she will need to change the rules just as much as the Venatori do. Hardened Lucanis reacts to being made First Talon (thing he denied for years, saying he didn't want it) the same way non-hardened Lucanis does. The main difference between Hardened and Lucanis is the question of Spite. Lucanis says he will go wherever, do whatever to separate from Spite. And he will. That's who Lucanis is. Maybe he'll succeed, maybe he'll die trying. I'm not sure how well that journey will go considering he is still First Talon with duties and responsibilities.

To say Lucanis heals from his childhood trauma by saying he doesn't resent Caterina is... stretching. Lucanis accepts what Caterina put him through as a thing that needed to happen. He says Caterina was so hard on him and Illario so they both survive and he doesn't resent her for it. His childhood was rough, tough, hard, etc. etc. because it needed to be that way. That's most likely what allowed him to survive the Ossuary. The choice was made on "I don't resent Caterina anymore" not "I forgive Caterina". Hardened Lucanis will not forgive Illario (and argument can be made that he shouldn't regardless), but it is telling that Hardened Lucanis is certainly putting some distance between himself and his big soft heart. But also isn't.

I think Neve and Lucanis are cute together. He respects... No, fucking admires her right off the bat. The way he compliments her battle prowess? WOW. Their banter and witty remarks are great, they even have a few overlapping interests (murder, books, and Venatori downfall). Neve and Lucanis without the One of them is Hardened, would be a couple to outcouple anyone for the rest of the franchise (if it lives). The fact Neve makes him laugh is so fucking precious. But what wasn't written into the game, might as well not exist. And it wasn't written. I don't care what Mary Kirby said on bluesky. If it wasn't written, it doesn't exist. They have a fucking codex "Sexuality in Thedas" and for what?

It is not outside of possibility that Neve and Lucanis help each other, there is nothing written in the game that suggests it, however. You can however look at the state the game leaves characters after the Final Gambit and reasonably conclude this relationship requires a LOT of work. And if the writers wanted to sell you on this relationship as something worthwhile, lasting, well-suited, well-considered, well-intentioned -- they needed to write it.

I don't mind the fact Hardened Lucanis cuts off romance with Rook. As a character writing, it's an interesting choice. Not particularly good, or particularly bad. It gives to Lucanis's character just as much as it takes away. It could have been a fascinating journey of forgiveness and rebuilding trust, but that would require A LOT of writing resources. So I don't think it's much as in "Lucanis is a deeply passionate man and internalizes the experience" as it is about "that kind of journey requires immense writing resources not to mention everything else". As you mentioned before, Lucanis is said to be sentimental and with a big-heart (which either gives him the capacity to either forgive Illario, but there is no forgiveness with Hardened Lucanis). Would I have died to see the incasing of Lucanis's soft big heart and then uncasing it? Totally. I understand why I can't. But I don't understand more as to why he is so... stagnant a character if Hardened. He retrieves more into himself when he could have been compelled to turn more spiteful, more selfish, more... anything, really. Neve still comes across as a more dynamic character when Hardened than Hardened Lucanis.

Again, the issue of Lucanis/Neve romance could be resolved with like 5 extra dialogue lines. It's not particularly hard. Neve saying something like Lucanis should consider making a deal with Spite because a deal is easier than chasing an answer across Thedas and still not get a satisfying one. After fucking all, the capital of human mage empire doesn't seem to have answer to his problem. What are his chances? Lucanis could be mentioning something about the scars Illario's betrayal left but also the fact his family has grown three times in size compared to last year and those bonds help. The game will smack you on the head three times that Lucanis and Harding trust each other and are friends. But the game cannot have a little something that suggests this dynamic -- Neve and Lucanis -- this relationship is doing something for those characters in terms of further development.

Example, Neve gets taken by Elgar'nan. Lucanis reacts. Thank FUCK he does react, actually. "You cannot not what Neve means to me because I myself never really told her, everything was just the tip of an arrow". Beautiful. Could he have also mentioned in Final Gambit that he has told her? That he is definitely telling her the moment Elgar'nan drops dead? Anything? For fucks sake say something about Eluvians needing to work after all the elven gods are dead so you can save time on travelling between Antive and Tevinter. The man is fucking romantic, for fuck's sake, and Rook just brought back his lover. I don't expect Neve to comment because the woman seems utterly out of it after being in Elgar'nan's grasp for weeks and I don't blame her.

The devil of Veilguard hides in the details. It's a constant issue if you look close enough. What do you meant Ferelden is all blighted? Hadring and Emmrich just camped there? What do you mean Taash went to speak with Shadow Dragons? Aren't they all scattered and in hiding? Rook, what do you mean "Solas, try a cure. Be the god your agent needs you to be." What cure is there, Rook? What cure you think is there? We watched the same memory, did we not? What cure you suggest he tries? It's the only memory where you are given a choice, and it's entirely meaningless and more importantly -- stupid.

The little detail that irked me is after Inner Demons Lucanis, in his charming and fumbling way, brings up the fact Neve is always on his mind. Except he says "You were there, in my mind. You helped Rook." Helped? Helped? That's what we call it? Lucanis, I understand what you wanted to say. You really should have thought this through, however. That was dishonest. Please have a better conversation with your romantic partner about your feelings, thoughts, and experiences, that was very bad.

My favourite background relationship is Taash and Harding because it gives. It gives what you need to know it's gonna work. Taash and Harding are emotionally open with other, even if talking about feelings is hard for Taash and Harding tends to ignore negative emotions. They have like 1-2 banters about it, and you already get that either: Laash formed a romantic relationship after building a strong platonic one or they are actively working on their relationship, all depending on when you get the banter. You are presented with emotional issues that are confronted in a relationship. Can this relationship fall apart? Can it turn into nothing? Abso-fucking-lutely. It's a relationship. But the writing of it makes me want to think it will not, not ever.

Neve and Lucanis have candlelight dinners and that's hella nice. But what is there to tell me this flowers-and-chocolates fantasy will not fizzle out the moment they go to live in cities they are heart-and-soul bound to? Not much, honestly. Yes, Lucanis is a romantic, and Neve has a heart of gold. But Lucanis is also dutiful to a fault and almost incapable of placing his wants first. And so is Neve, honestly. What is there to suggest that Lucanis or Neve will be able to hold each other to a higher standard? Cynical Neve grows more cynical, her belief that people can let you down turns into more people will let you down. And Lucanis isn't all that equipped to deal with his cynical cousin after growing up together. And Hardened Lucanis during Final Gambit doesn't emrabce the idea of living his life as his own until he gets rid of Spite. Which is something that may never happen.

Harding even goddamn helps Taash with mother issues via having fucking conversations. Harding has a healthier perspective, a better point of reference. Taash encourages Harding to not be so afraid of her anger, anger is normal, if you are angry, you are angry, just deal with it in a healthy way. Taash is honestly great. Taash doesn't get enough recognition. Tho, their questline commits a rather egregious crime. Lucanis and Neve banter is flirtatious but not deep. And it can be said because the characters are just that way, except no, Neve and Bellara do discuss their romantic lives (or more specifically Neve's feelings). So, no again there.

And the nuance of a relationship of Hardened Character/Unhardened Character is just fucking missing. Could Hardened Neve/Lucanis forge a bond undying? Could they make each other better? Could each other worse? Could Spite commit murder-suicide in their sleep? The writing leaves out so much of it out, you can use your imagination to build palaces, you can also realistically say it will end with not much changing for either of them. They will come out of that relationship exactly as they entered it. Lucanis might be affected because it's his first and failing your first relationship is a scar of its own. Neve however? It happened. It was nice while it lasted.

So if in Final Gambit, after Lucanis and Neve have been doing this seeing each other thing for some time, after Neve potentially coming back from the dead, both of them knowing they can die in a few minutes i do not believe in their romantic relationship as something long-lastin, why am I not to say this relationship is doomed? The relationship between those two people will inevitably end and sooner than later. That's all it means.

And, yes, it grates me that a game is about "everyone can be redeemed" and "don't get stuck in your regrets", you will not be able to meaningfully influence your companion whose cutscenes on Tearstone Island do not change. So you have that bond. But also you don't. I'd be down if the bond was entirely one-sided. But it's not. The writers could have chosen to take the cake away with Hardened Lucanis. But they didn't. They wanted both chairs, so the sitting is uncomfortable.

Idk, man. Seems like a buckwild take to say that just because Lucanis can't heal with Neve the way he does with Rook makes him and Neve a bad pairing. Like, there's no one right person for anyone. One True Love™ isn't real and there are all kinds of relationships that work just fine. There's no one right way to deal with trauma. And love comes in so many shapes and sizes.

I don't think it's outside the realm of possibility that Neve and Lucanis help each other get better together. It won't look the same as either does with Rook, because, well, they aren't with Rook (???).

But I firmly believe that both of them would hold their partner to a higher standard, demand that they accept more love than they think they deserve, because they want better for their partners. And while that might not lead to Lucanis unraveling his trauma à la Mind Prison, it doesn't mean Neve couldn't help him find another route through.

(I also think it's a bit unkind to think a 35-36 year old man who has already dealt with his childhood trauma (re: he "doesn't resent Caterina anymore", implying he once did and he worked through his shit) wouldn't eventually work through the Ossuary and Spite on his own. It would just be slower and look different and that's OKAY! Romance is not a prerequisite for dealing with trauma.)

Also, and I will die on this hill, it is not "bad writing" to have Lucanis be unromanceable by a Rook who chose to save Minrathous. Lucanis views that choice, as logical as it may be, as a betrayal. You've betrayed Treviso, the Crows, and him. And, he's someone who REQUIRES a close emotional attachment to feel attraction (demisexual, hello???). So, yeah. You let his city and people die a slow terrible death to the blight, he isn't going to fall in love with you. He literally can't. It makes complete sense and I thought it was a BRILLIANT choice by the writers. If you save Minrathous, you get a totally different Lucanis and I think that's incredible.

Neve doesn't lock you out if you save Treviso because she is a much more rational and logical thinker than Lucanis. Lucanis is called "soft-hearted" and "sentimental" multiple times across the game and tie-in media, where Neve is known for her icy exterior, wit and cleverness. It makes complete sense.

I am begging people to stop calling elements they personally dislike "bad writing".

[tammyhybrid21]

I’m going to put these on their own post just so I can get my thoughts in order first. Starting of course with the Siblings and their Slugcats... if the heights are inconsistent, please I’m aware... One of the curses I think... Anyway so what can I say-- A lot actually, but I don’t want to say everything.

So I’ll just kind of, list it as I take it.

I am a firm believer in short Pebbles, short all of the iterators actually. Which speaking of, they are child sized. Going by that one theory that Slugcats are around 3’-ish. Which I do adore, I love it so much because I-- I like characters who’re small and thus have to deal with the issues that comes from been smol, as well the blessings of that shorter height. I mean seriously, look back at my roleplaying days-- my Main Muse was a 3’1/95cm tall child who got into EVERYTHING, but that’s not the point of this.

This was initially a picture I was drawing just as a reference, but I think I’m just going to use whatever height charts I make for those in the end... so instead this is more like a sheet of Misc headcanons/thoughts.

Straight up at the front, listing off heights. Artificer shares the same thing that sends me about NSH with LTTM’s height difference, 1cm turns into a whole inch of difference. And then Ruffles/Rivulet is smaller and faster. Pebbles meanwhile just smol-- ALSO THE MARKINGS. I have come to a conclusion and Pebbles and Moon’s markings and how they go together and that conclusion is phases of the Moon. I also love the idea that they match clothing wise... and the deeper issues with Pebbles basically only been given hand me downs.

Hand me down citizens, hand me down clothes... Vague ideas he’s built to the west of Moon, so also literally in her shadow when the sun rises...

BUT also on that, I suppose lets go to those little picture snippets huh. So first off, I love the idea of iterators giving out marks/gifts to Slugcats they claim. Artificer is Pebbles’ citizen as much as he’s her “angry pink baby”. With one extra headcanon--

When I first fell into drawing Rain World fanart I also done up this quick sheet. Nothing here is really relevant because it was mostly me just getting some thoughts in order. BUT-- I have a half joking headcanon that Pebbles is colourblind thanks to a mod with unfixed dialogue. Which you can see in my timeline/headcanon scribbles as well. SPECIFICALLY. I play around as if Pebbles has protanopia.

Which ye, he has even more strive for independence from Moon as result. ALSO, As a funny thing, this will be used as an excuse for a fic at some point for him to send Artificer off to NSH and go “You’ll know her when you see her, she’s you coloured!”-- she is empathetically not. Same as her Scarf is not the same colour as Pebbles like he thinks it is in that first picture.

I have... a lot to say regarding that one spoiler picture with Ruffles and campaign specific event. But the issue with that is it would take a lot of words and some explanations that even likely go cross-fandom. I just have one thing I will say right here.

People need to learn how to hear/see unspoken apologies. Apologies through actions and not words... But I’ll save that for when I actually get my thoughts together for all the fandoms it’s relevant to. So maybe... hopefully one day I’ll get to that.

Kind of wish I had more to say about the Slugcats here, but uhhh-- don't really have much, at least not this second. Not beyond the obvious... Although I do have a WIP time-travel fic with Riv and Moon that goes with another half-joke headcanon... will I explain that, no, because that's currently one paragraph of a story that I don't even know will be written more or not.

[bixels]

I'm not explaining why re-imagining characters as POC is not the same as white-washing, here of all places should fucking understand.

[cinnamonsikwate]

"why couldn't shuro have just been honest about what he felt with laios and falin it's not that hard" are you. are you White

[devilboydogman]

FUCKING FOR SURE. I've actually wanted to talk about this for a while.

I am 90% certain Hannibal's end of their relationship was a front. He definitely used her as an alibi and a character witness, which is so so messed up. She mentored under him and trusted both his professional fidelity and his benevolence (neither of which actually existed), and I like to think about that line Hannibal says. 'In your defense, I worked very hard to blind you.' Because it is true. The reason she couldn't see any of it is because he manipulated everything in such a way that he did not allow her to.

Alana was one of the few people with genuine compassion for Will, also, I must add.

And while Hannibal is definitely not completely unfeeling (ASPD is a complicated mf to unpack) he was most definitely a POS. Like YEAH I love him too, but he's awful lol. And he and Will didn't even save new york in the process of destroying everything lol

Thinking about fandom hating women for the sake of yaoi rn. In the special case of Hannibal TV

I need to talk about Alana Bloom. Right Now. Ok? Ok. Ok.

She had every right to reject Will. In fact, I think it was a good choice. She set a boundary, communicated clearly what her own needs were, as well as telling him that while she does like him, this wasn't what either of them needed. And Will respected that! He realized he was clutching for balance in his state of intense fear and instability, and he realized that after the fact, went to Hannibal to talk about it.

'HOT' Take incoming.

She ALSO had every right to enter a relationship with Hannibal during Will's incarceration. Think about things from HER perspective. Yes, it SEEMS obvious, to US, the VIEWER, that Hannibal was pulling strings, that she should have believed Will form the start, but the entire point of Hannibal's manipulation and the way it is done in the show, is that it is meant to be obvious to us while being believably effective on other characters. And if you know a damn thing about abuse, you can see that it is done WELL. Alana had had nothing but good interactions with Hannibal, had seen him do nothing but good, for others. Good at his job, good at being a friend, trying his best to help. SHE DOES NOT SEE WHAT WE SEE. That is the point. She is kept purposefully in the dark, and from her perspective, Will is the only one proven to have committed any crime. So no, I will not accept any Alana Bloom bashing.

[briar--rising]

It is so funny to me when people try to argue about who's 'worse', Lestat or Armand. First of all, worse by what metric? By the way they treat humans? The way they treat Claudia? Or (as it seems most people are focused on) only the way they treat Louis? And if it's by the way they treat Louis, are you judging based on what you would find worse in a partner, or by what Louis does (bc I would argue he pretty clearly has an opinion on that based on the end of season 2).

And most importantly of all, who cares??? They are both TERRIBLE. Everyone in this show is terrible! You can like morally reprehensible characters. Armand is my personal blorbo, and what he does is horrific. I can feel bad for him, and enjoy watching him, and think that his actions are heinous, and reblog art and read fanfiction of him, and analyze him without excusing him, all at the same time! And so can you with whoever you like!

Pitting these characters against one another is absurd. "Which one is less abusive" is a question I guess you can ask, but it's not a very interesting one. Much more interesting is "Why are they abusive in these specific ways? What about their trauma and personality informs their actions? Why does Louis react the way he does to each of them? What does that say about Louis? What does this show say about domestic violence in general? Are the rules different for vampires? Or is abuse abuse? Do the victims determine who should get forgiveness? Or are certain actions inherently unforgivable? Can you forgive someone when their victim hasn't? Is any of this different in fiction rather than reality? etc etc etc." There are so many interesting questions posed by the juxtaposition between Lestat and Armand and the way they treat Louis, and none of them are "but which one is worse so I can forever villify that one and hold up the other one as the paragon of what's good and right and perfect for Louis"

[hexados-on-a-string]

me: teehee yay gus is in mechtanium surge with spectra yippee

my brain, being nice to me for once: hey isnt it cool how gus has been by spectra's side this whole time? through the entirety of new vestroia, and in those 2 years since, he's never left his side. despite how much has changed, they haven't left each other's side, isnt that nice?

me:

[wiremotherofficial]

i also don't have a dog in this fight because i am mostly a fan of the books but i think there are 2 things going on here

1) the valid complaint about her looks is that the way she looks in the trailer is a huge departure from the character model used in the previous game. she looks fine but she looks like someone else

HOWEVER

this is almost certainly a nonissue because anyone who played the witcher 3 ought to remember the exact same thing with yennefer. in the cinematic trailer, she was modeled off of a real person

assuming the game model for ciri looks similar to the previous game's model then i see no real cause for complaint there, but if they make her look more like the cinematic trailer model then it's weird because that's not at all what they've already established that she looks like

2) as for complaining about ciri becoming the main protagonist, i guess i can understand it but any continuation with geralt is going to ultimately just be the exact same game as the one before it but without any meaningful storyline

warning for book spoilers i guess but none of the events in any of the witcher games even remotely follow canon. they are basically completely independent stories that incorporate a lot of references and details. for example, they were so intimidated by yennefer as a character that they opted to make triss the companion for the first 2 games and many of the traits and memories attributed to triss actually canonically happen with yennefer. geralt's amnesia never happened, that was just the only way they could reasonably introduce this woman he has a 20-30+ year history with out of nowhere. absolutely nothing that happened with ciri in the witcher 3 is canon at all, particularly as it relates to both geralt and yennefer because the games technically take place after the books, in which geralt and yennefer both die and ciri ends up starting a new life in a different dimension. so the witcher 3 (well, all of them) amounts to fanfiction that references some details about the final book.

with that in mind, there is literally nothing left to do with geralt unless you make up an entirely new story. so why not do it with ciri when she's a character that has not been as extensively explored in the series?

these games are all equally stupid so as long as the storyline is compelling and the gameplay is fun i don't think it matters. if you actually like the series, the games can do neither right nor wrong imo lol

I watched the Witcher IV trailer, and I really don't understand the people complaining about Ciri's looks. I think she looks good, just a bit older, as is to be expected. I also don't understand people being mad that she's the main protagonist -is she not the most logical choice in a game set after Geralt has likely retired??? I'm more concerned with the implications of her becoming a witcher, something I don't think anyone at all wants. But I guess time will tell.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

Honestly the empathy sequence makes NMJ kinda strike me as an entitled/abusive parental figure. Maybe I'm just drawing paralels that aren't there, but:

Feeling entitled to JGY's time and attention? He interrupts his conversations with LXC (twice, I think), one of said times because he was eavesdropping on them AND got angry about JGY expressing fear to LXC IN PRIVATE

Not letting JGY explain himself/ not listening when he tries. At the point of the staircase scene NMJ has been poisoned to hell and back by baxia, but I do believe it's not just that. He sees his moral code as absolute certainty and his inflexible nature makes it that he doesn't take well to deviance from that. Aka has to get his way or gets Angry

I think NMJ was an absolute idiot to let JGY ppay clarity for hin after the staircase thing! That draws more into the paralel because abusive people often hurt others and then act like nothing happened, as if their target doesn't have the right to be upset (see again: qi deviating over JGY expressing fear to LXC). NMJ does this to a degree that paints him as almost oblivious imo

I actually do quite like NMJ but he's. So many shades of fucked up, Christ alive

i am going to proceed cautiously here for several reasons, but primarily because:

i have been drawn into the "is nmj an evil abuser" discourse once before on discord (in defence of da-ge, believe it or not) and i Did Not Enjoy It At All, Actually, and

while i think the behaviour described above absolutely qualifies as abusive, nmj's intentions also matter, and i don't think what nmj is trying to do can be boiled down to simply exerting coercive control over jgy. initially on the hejian front when he eavesdrops on meng yao and lan xichen, he wants to help him; the second time he eavesdrops, it's because he straight up views jgy as a threat, and decides to kill him because of it.

imo their dynamic is dysfunctional and toxic and is a powder keg set to explode essentially from the moment nmj sees meng yao killing the jin commander on the langya front, but i think calling it abusive is an over-simplification of what is going on between them.

that said, i do think there is a character in the novel canon who nmj repeatedly tries to exert coercive control over, who is fully and unquestionably under his authority and influence, and who he treats with wildly vacillating levels of either patience or explosive anger depending on the canon point, and that character is nie huaisang.

---

this post has been added to my dreamwidth meta archive here: https://thatswhatsushewrote.dreamwidth.org/7080.html

[scuorge101]

Y’all can like Eurylochus without dragging Polites down by the way, in case y’all need a reminder.

I genuinely don’t understand why a lot of y’all are dead set on dragging Polites through the mud just to try and make Eurylochus look like a better character. Just say that you like Eurylochus’ character better and that you wish he was appreciated more by the fandom as a whole.

[deathnguts]

Sirius and Severus’ hate for each other is personal because Severus is what Walburga wanted Sirius to be and Sirius is what Tobias wanted Severus to be

[galacticlamps]

not sure i've seen anyone mention it yet but also i havent looked - but the bit at the beginning of episode 5 where edwin's reading up on astrological compatibilities just before brad & hunter show up - is there a prevailing theory about a specific taurus and aires he might be referring to?

he did just leave charles and crystal together to settle their relationship status (not that he's aware that's what they're discussing at the time), so i'm kind of inclined to assume it was them, but as far as I can recall he & niko are the only people whose signs we're told outright (and frankly, just removing his from the equation does rule out about half the potential ships in the show)

but if crystal is one of the parties involved, that just raises more questions

Like does that mean she remembers when her birthday is? I wouldn't have thought so, since even with only a partial name, a specific DOB might make her significantly easier to look up, particularly if her parents are kind of famous (i've been assuming all along that her name being a noun effectively made her google-proof). Or is it more likely monty just declared her something & they all accepted that as fact because he was noticeably right about everyone else so far? But if that's the case, how much has he been talking to/getting to know the rest of them, because she would press him on that, right? like it's one thing to make quips about people who are capable of confirming their own birthdays being typical of their signs - but since crystal's actively on the lookout for chances to learn more about herself, you'd think someone being confident he can just tell certain things about her like that would be of particular interest to her. And alternatively if monty hasn't spent too much time with her & is still responsible for assigning her a horoscope anyway, does that mean he's been like. displaying a certain amount of supernatural knowledge all along without anyone getting suspicious of him? and where does astrology fall on that scale anyway, in their world? edwin's skepticism at first would imply it's not considered a normal science to them, even in the context of ghosts and spells and witches - unless that's just meant to read as him being especially hypocritical?

Do any of these things have clearly implied answers to people who do know about astrology? Or have I missed canonical birth dates given for anybody anywhere? I feel like they'd shed some light on an unusually large number of questions for me at the moment