#because they are very very fascinating to me and i think the game did better with plot buildup albeit worse with character emotion

[cloudbends]

new pokemon episode!!!

[violexides]

last night i finished my "rewatch" of SDR2 and i do have a lot of thoughts specifically when comparing the different strengths and weaknesses of THH and SDR2 however for the sake of time (i have to leave for class soon) one thing i will say is that getting older and a hiatus did not, in fact, make me any less in love with komaeda nagito's character.

[celestiamour]

MEOW MEOW MEOW SE-MI SMUT X F!READER PLL,ZZPLZLZZ IM ON MY KNEES PLZ

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ an examination of piercings turns into something more┊0.8k words

contains: smut!! dom se-mi & sub reader┊tongue piercing, receiving oral, one mention of needles, innocent reader, se-mi is older & called “unnie”

➤ author's note: glad to see the girls getting just as much love as the boys in my inbox

“did they hurt?” you asked, gently holding your friend’s face in your hands and admiring her like a newly discovered painting from the renaissance era. it was mesmerizing how the light shone off the metal, and you couldn’t stop staring, even going as far as to run your finger over the little star of her nose piercing in awe without thinking. it was so damn cute how fascinated you seemed to be by these decisions she made nearly a decade ago in her teenage years.

normally, se-mi wouldn’t have let anyone put their hands on her and would probably punch them if they went anywhere near her face. yet here she sat in her bed allowing herself to be adored by you. she wondered if this was how cats felt when being coddled by their owners, the spoiled white persian kinds you see in movies with diamond collars and more toys than what they know to do with. “no, it was just like a pinch.”

“i couldn’t imagine that— having a needle pierce my skin, i mean,” you shivered. “my ears were pierced when i was a baby, but even then, they’re a little crooked because i wouldn’t stop crying.”

she giggled at the thought of it. “it’s not the needle that’s painful, it’s the healing process. the days after i got my tongue pierced were the worst, i couldn’t eat for days.”

“you have a tongue piercing?”

humming to confirm, she cheekily stuck out her tongue to show off the metal pierced through the muscle, even flexing it to flaunt the jewelry. it was extremely amusing to see how flustered you were becoming even though you tried not to show it.

“why did you get it pierced when it’s not even visible all the time?”

“cause it feels good for…”

“feels good for what?” you asked innocently, tilting your head in a way that made her want to eat you alive.

“well… it’s kinda hard to explain, but i could show you if you like…”

you didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was talking about at first until you found yourself flipped on your back with your shorts dragged to your ankles along with your panties and her head in between your shaking thighs, sliding her hot tongue between your folds and savoring the taste collecting on her palette. this wasn’t something best friends did, but you made no attempt to push her away and allowed her to do as she pleased.

“s-se-mi unnie…” you whined out, fingers finding and tangling with her dark locks yet also doing the contradictory action of wiggling your hips away. you’ve never felt this way before, knots twisting in your stomach and fire spreading under your skin as you try to wiggle away from the foreign sensation that felt too good to be real.

“ah, ah, ah, don’t run from me, you taste so fucking sweet.” her grip on your legs tightened as she pulled you closer to her, swirling the cold pierced metal across your throbbing clit and enjoying your moans like music. “i wish we had done this sooner, don’t you? god, i don’t think i could ever get enough now that i’m here.”

you couldn’t even verbalize a proper answer with nothing but pathetic whimpers falling from your mouth, eyes flickering between her and the ceiling as they rolled back with tears threatening to drip down the waterline. did things like this always feel so good, or was se-mi simply an expert who knew your body better than you did yourself with age and experience? silly little questions you would ponder if you weren’t getting your brains fucked out by just her tongue, making her wonder in return how you would handle taking her strap when you were already going crazy like this. (you have no idea how long she’s been fantasizing about having you like this, sitting in this very bed thinking about your soft skin and lips against hers with her hand crammed in her pants.)

“fucckk, ‘m gonna- ngh!!” god, you didn’t know the word to match your oncoming orgasm, you just knew a peak was about to be reached thanks to her talented tongue.

“you’re gonna cum baby,” she chuckled. “don’t be scared, just let yourself go for me.”

suddenly her plush lips wrapped around your delicate pearl and sucked hard, and like activating a button, you cried out in pleasure and unraveled all over her face, back arched and hands tugging on her hair. she gladly licked up the messy remnants with a smirk, proud to have made you climax in less than five minutes.

“you did soooo good for me baby,” she drawled and pressed a few sloppy kisses on your twitching cunt as a reward, “think you can give me one more?”

[humaling]

Two Victors, One Closet.

pairings: finnick odair x reader

summary: you hid in a closet to escape from a fan—but what are the odds of ending up in the same closet with the capitol's darling?

warnings: none!

word count: 3k

author's note: my fav piece so far. i love forced proximity guys

You’d rather be anywhere but here—at another Capitol party, suffocating under the weight of excess and expectation. If your presence weren’t mandatory, if Snow weren’t holding a noose over your loved one’s neck, you’d be in bed, sleeping soundly—something you’ve only managed to do since winning your Games a few years ago.

This party is no different from the others you’ve endured. It’s loud, obnoxious, and mind-numbingly monotonous. People parade around in the most hideous outfits imaginable, calling it fashion simply because it defies normalcy. You can think of a few who would look far better in something simple, yet they insist on prancing around in walrus costumes or altering their features to resemble wild animals—an attempt at beauty that, in your humble opinion, makes them more unsettling than presentable.

If you earned a dollar for every person you’ve avoided tonight, you’d have at least a hundred—enough to buy yourself a decent meal at that small diner on the outskirts of the Capitol, where the people, at the very least, seem a bit more human than the ones inside this party.

You uncomfortably shift in your dress, flattening out the creases that start to form. The fabric, though luxurious, clings to you in a way that feels suffocating, a constant reminder of the expectations woven into every stitch. A pink cocktail sits in your hand, glittering under the dim glow of the chandelier, the ice clinking softly as you tighten your grip around the delicate stem. Your expression remains composed—sweet, practiced, effortless—as a Capitol couple manages to sneak up behind you, their voices dripping with familiarity as they greet you like an old friend.

“My! You would look so much better in my dress than the one you’re wearing,” one of them gushes, grasping your arm with manicured fingers. The scent of artificial roses wafts off her in waves, sickly sweet and overpowering.

You glance at her outfit, taking in the bold choice of material. Classic. A long cocktail dress, its bodice clinging to her frame, the skirt draping in soft, deliberate folds—made entirely of tiger fur, the stripes catching the light with a golden sheen. Authentic, of course. Anything less wouldn’t be worth parading.

“You flatter me,” you reply, forcing a light laugh, though your stomach twists at the thought of slipping into something like that.

“Oh, but I mean it! Just the other day, Vera Juno—you know her, don’t you? The one with the most divine peacock-feather corset—she was saying how dreadfully plain fur looks on me, but I told her, ‘Well, darling, it’s not the fur, it’s the person wearing it!’” She giggles, waving a hand as if dismissing the very idea that she could look anything less than stunning.

Her husband, draped in a garish emerald suit with diamond-studded cuffs, takes a long sip from his flute of champagne before sighing dramatically. “Speaking of Vera, did you hear? She’s on her third face this year. Third! I told her she had to slow down, but she’s obsessed. I mean, honestly, she’s starting to look like a bad painting.”

You hum in amusement, nodding along as if this is the most fascinating conversation you’ve ever been part of, when in reality, you feel like you’re suffocating. The weight of their words, their extravagance, their sheer detachment from anything real—it presses down on you like the bodice of your dress, too tight, too constricting.

“I simply must introduce you to my designer,” the woman continues, taking a sip from a martini glass filled with some unnaturally blue liquid. “She does custom work—one of a kind. None of that tacky, mass-produced nonsense. Oh! And she works with the rarest*materials. I swear, she had a real mockingjay feather last season, but she used it on some nobody—can you imagine?”

You force a gasp, widening your eyes just enough to appear engaged. “A real mockingjay feather? That’s practically a historic artifact.”

The husband scoffs. “And wasted on a girl who doesn’t even appreciate fashion.”

You smile, tilting your head in interest, all while subtly scanning the room. You need an escape. The dance floor? No, too crowded. The bar? No, you’d risk them following you for another round of terribly important Capitol gossip. Your fingers tighten around your glass as you spot an avox disappearing to an empty hallway. Perfect.

“Oh! Is that—excuse me, just one moment,” you say, flashing them an apologetic smile before slipping away, weaving through the sea of elaborately dressed socialites. You exhale softly, relief washing over you as their voices fade into the background.

As you step into the hallway, a voice calls out your name. Your breath catches, and you pick up the pace, scanning your surroundings. Hide. That’s the only thought in your head. You can’t handle another meaningless conversation with another obnoxious Capitolian. You’d rather lock yourself in a dark, windowless room than entertain their exhausting chatter.

Your eyes dart around until they land on a cabinet door, slightly ajar. There’s no time to hesitate. You slip inside, pulling the door shut behind you, swallowing yourself in darkness.

Pressing your ear against the wooden surface, you listen. Muffled footsteps. The sound of your name again. You recognize the voice instantly, and dread coils in your stomach. Him. The man who runs that ridiculous website about you, documenting every move you make as if you’re a spectacle rather than a person. He’s practically built an archive of your life, shoving every scrap of information he can find onto the internet for Capitol citizens to obsess over.

You hold your breath, remaining perfectly still, listening as his footsteps shuffle past. He calls your name once more before, finally, mercifully, they start to fade. You wait a few beats, making sure he’s really gone before exhaling a slow, relieved sigh. Your forehead rests against the wooden door as your grip on the handle loosens.

But the moment of peace is short-lived.

A voice murmurs behind you, low and bemused.

“Uh, sweetheart?”

A yelp escapes your throat as you whirl around, arm swinging wildly to hit whoever’s behind you. But your hand meets nothing but air before it smacks into the wooden wall with a sharp thud.

A soft cry leaves your lips, pain stinging through your knuckles. Before you can recover, there’s a faint click beside you. A dim light flickers on above, casting a warm glow over the cramped space. You squint, your eyes adjusting, and then they land on the bronze-haired man standing at your side, sea-green eyes blown wide in surprise.

You freeze, recognition settling in.

“Finnick?”

His lips twitch before stretching into a slow, easy grin, flashing those infuriatingly perfect teeth. He leans against the wall, one hand still resting on the light switch, head tilting slightly as he peers down at you.

“Fancy meeting you here, sweetheart.” His voice is laced with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips as he extends his free hand toward you in mock politeness.

You glance at it, scoff, and cross your arms instead. “What are you doing here?”

Finnick sighs, slipping his hand back into the pocket of his dress pants. “Hiding. Obviously.” His tone is dry, like the answer should be obvious.

You exhale sharply, pressing your back against the door as you try to compose yourself. Of course, he’s hiding. He’s probably avoiding some desperate Capitol sponsor or an overzealous admirer. People cling to Finnick Odair like moths to a flame, and he plays his role so well.

“Well,” you mutter, shifting slightly, “I was here first.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and amused. “So territorial. What, do you want me to step out and expose both of us?”

You narrow your eyes. He has a point. If either of you leaves now, you’ll draw attention, and the last thing you need is to be caught crammed into a cabinet with Finnick Odair. That would be another scandal for the Capitol to sink its teeth into.

You sigh, rubbing your temple before glancing up at him. “Fine. Just—don’t talk.”

Finnick hums, tilting his head slightly. “You sure? I think we could have a very productive conversation in here.”

“Finnick.”

“Alright, alright.” He grins, leaning back against the shelves. “Silent as a clam.”

You roll your eyes and shift in place, trying to find a comfortable spot without knocking anything over. The cabinet wasn’t made for two people. Your arm brushes against his chest, and you can feel the warmth radiating off him, his breath ghosting against your hair.

“Will you move?” you hiss, trying not to bump into the precariously stacked cans of paint, cleaning supplies, and tools surrounding you.

Finnick lifts a hand in mock innocence. “Well, honey, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s pretty cramped in here with all this stuff.” He gestures lazily to the shelves around you.

You glare at him. “You clearly still have space behind you.” You poke a firm finger against his chest. “Move.”

Finnick glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you with an exaggerated frown. “There’s a vacuum.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious?”

“It’s taking up, like, all my space.”

A slow, frustrated breath pushes through your nose as you shift your weight. It’s hot, cramped, and you’re stuck here with Finnick Odair.

He watches your struggle with barely concealed amusement before offering, “Well, I could just step out and—”

“Don’t you dare even think about it!” you whisper-yell, eyes sharp as daggers.

His smirk widens. Infuriating.

Finnick’s smirk deepens, his sea-green eyes glinting in the dim light. “Oh, honey, you wound me,” he drawls, placing a hand over his chest like you’ve personally offended him. “You think I’d sell you out just to stretch my legs?”

You scoff, crossing your arms despite the cramped space. “Yes.”

His lips twitch. “Fair enough.”

You huff, shifting against the wooden door, trying to create some semblance of distance between you and Finnick, but it’s impossible. The small storage cabinet wasn’t designed to hold two people, let alone a six-foot-tall Victor with broad shoulders who takes up way too much space. His arm brushes against yours, and you feel the warmth radiating off him—annoyingly distracting.

Finnick exhales dramatically. “You know, if you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just asked.”

You whip your head up, glaring. “I will knock you out, Odair.”

He grins. “With what? Your tiny fists? Oh, sweetheart, you’re adorable.”

Your nostrils flare. Infuriating. Absolutely insufferable. You have half a mind to elbow him in the ribs, but knowing Finnick, he’d probably enjoy that too. Instead, you sigh sharply, tilting your head back against the door.

Silence settles between you, save for the muffled sounds of the party outside—the distant laughter, the clinking of glasses, the upbeat music that feels worlds away from the stifling little closet.

Then Finnick speaks again, voice quieter this time. “So, who are you hiding from?”

You hesitate. You don’t owe him an answer. But there’s something disarming about Finnick, something that makes people spill their secrets before they even realize they’ve opened their mouths.

Still, you settle for a vague response. “Someone annoying.”

He hums. “So, not me?”

You shoot him a look, and he chuckles, clearly entertained.

“Let me guess.” He taps his chin, pretending to think. “Overzealous sponsor? Jealous socialite? Deranged fan?”

You shift uncomfortably. Close enough.

Finnick notices. His smirk softens into something less performative, more genuine. “C’mon,” he coaxes, tilting his head. “Who was it?”

You exhale through your nose, deciding to humor him. “That guy who runs the website about me.”

Finnick’s brows raise, then his face twists in sympathy. “Oh, him? Yeah, I’ve got one of those too. Talks about me like we braid each other’s hair at sleepovers.”

Despite yourself, a snort escapes your lips. “Right? He acts like he knows everything about me. It’s creepy.”

Finnick grins. “Well, at least you haven’t been shipped with half of Panem. I swear, if I had a coin for every time someone claimed I was secretly in love with some random socialite…” He shakes his head, mock exasperation in his voice.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And who are you secretly in love with, Finnick?”

His smirk falters for half a second—so quick you almost miss it. But then it’s back, all charm and mischief. “Wouldn’t you like to know, sweetheart?”

Your lips press together, and before you can stop yourself, you mutter, “Not really.”

Finnick places a hand over his heart again, gasping. “You wound me twice in one night? Unbelievable.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. The frustration you felt earlier has dulled into something else. Something lighter.

Still, you don’t let your guard down. “Just don’t get too comfortable,” you warn. “The second I think it’s safe, I’m out of here.”

Finnick smirks, leaning back against the shelves. “And leave me all alone? In this cold, dark closet?” He sighs dramatically. “How cruel.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You groan, lifting a hand to shove Finnick back.

It happens too fast.

You push him a little harder than intended. His legs catch on the vacuum behind him, throwing him off balance. His arms flail as he tries to grab onto something—unfortunately, that something is you.

You barely have time to react before gravity does its job.

A loud thud echoes through the tiny storage room as you crash into Finnick. Your foreheads smack together, sending a sharp jolt of pain through your skull. Finnick, caught in the most ridiculous position imaginable, hangs awkwardly midair—his back pressed against the wall, legs still half-propped on the vacuum. His arms instinctively wrap around your waist, holding you in place.

You wince, lifting your head slightly, your free hand pressing against your now-throbbing forehead. “Ow,” you mumble. His skull might as well be made of steel.

Finnick lets out a breathy chuckle beneath you, though it’s slightly strained. “Y’know, sweetheart, if you wanted to be on top, you could’ve just asked.”

Your hand immediately smacks his shoulder.

Before he can get another word out, the door creaks open.

“Is there someone in h—oh…”

Finnick’s head snaps up—only for your forehead to slam into Finnick’s again.

“Ow!” you both groan in unison.

You don’t even hesitate before slapping his arm again. He muffles a grunt.

Meanwhile, the woman standing in the doorway is frozen, gloved hand covering her mouth, eyes wide with realization. “Oh my! ” she gasps, face flushing. “Are you two all right?”

Her words barely register as you rub your forehead, still disoriented. A gloved hand touches your shoulder, and you glance up to see her looking between you and Finnick, brows raised.

“Yes, we’re fine,” you mutter automatically, nodding mindlessly.

That’s when you see it—the look on her face. The way her eyes flick between you and Finnick, her lips slightly parted as if processing something. Then it clicks.

Oh. Oh no.

Finnick, still beneath you, shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flicking to the side. His tongue pokes at his cheek, barely suppressing a smirk.

The woman’s face shifts from surprise to intrigue.

“Oh,” she says again, but this time, there’s understanding in her tone. As if she knows exactly what she just walked in on.

Your stomach drops as you realize exactly what she is thinking. She doesn’t just assume she walked in on something—she is convinced of it. And worse, she looks absolutely thrilled.

“Oh,” she says again, her eyes lighting up with amusement. “Oh my.”

You scramble to push yourself off Finnick, but in your flustered state, you end up pressing your weight further onto him instead. His breath catches for just a second before he exhales a soft chuckle.

“Easy there, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were so eager.”

You smack his shoulder, but it only makes him grin wider. “Will you shut up and help me?” you whisper harshly, still trying to push yourself up without making the situation worse.

Finnick sighs dramatically, as if this is somehow an inconvenience for him, before placing his hands on your waist and lifting you off with frustrating ease. Once you’re on your feet, you try to brush yourself off and compose yourself, but before you can say anything, the woman gasps and claps her hands together.

“This is so lovely,” she gushes. “And here I thought the rumors were just speculation! But to think I’d witness it firsthand—oh, this is wonderful.”

You frown, not entirely sure you want to know what she’s talking about. “What?”

She gestures between you and Finnick with an almost conspiratorial expression. “Your little secret romance, dear. You don’t have to pretend with me. I won’t tell a soul.”

You open your mouth, then close it again, completely at a loss for words. Meanwhile, Finnick leans casually against the shelf, watching with clear amusement.

“That’s very kind of you,” he says smoothly, flashing his most charming smile. “We’d hate for anyone to get the wrong idea.”

You whip your head toward him, glaring daggers. Do not encourage this.

The woman giggles, as if she is witnessing something out of a Capitol drama. “Oh, don’t worry. I understand. A little forbidden rendezvous? How thrilling!”

You let out a strangled sound of frustration. “It’s not—we’re not—”

She raises a hand, silencing you with a knowing smile. “Say no more, dear. You have my discretion.”

Finnick hums approvingly. “Much appreciated.”

You feel your blood pressure rise. He is enjoying this far too much, and it’s obvious by the way his lips twitch as he glances at you. The woman sighs wistfully as if she is witnessing the most romantic scandal in all of Panem.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, winking before disappearing down the hallway.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the empty doorway as your brain struggles to catch up. The silence is thick, filled only by the distant hum of the party outside.

Then, slowly, you turn to Finnick.

He is smirking, arms crossed over his chest. “Well,” he drawls, amusement thick in his voice. “That went well.”

You inhale deeply through your nose, trying to rein in the urge to strangle him. “You absolute—”

Finnick chuckles and tilts his head slightly. “Careful, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want people to think our lover’s quarrel is anything serious.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. You can already hear the whispers spreading through the Capitol. By tomorrow morning, there will be headlines, theories, and most likely an entire fan club dedicated to the two of you.

And Finnick Odair, the bane of your existence, is going to love every second of it.

part two

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 6] A Different Side

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

Sukuna notices a certain glow to you lately. He’s not sure what it is, but as time goes on and you become rounder with his children, he sees something different in you. He doesn’t find you beautiful, that’s certainly not it.

Well, he certainly doesn’t mind looking at you. He did choose you out of any other woman to carry his child. There’s something nice about you that he likes to dote on when no one else is looking (he’d never admit that though). He won’t say that you’re beautiful, but he’d say that you’re the closest a woman comes to achieving that. But lately, there’s something about you that radiates, something that sticks with him even after you leave. 

Is Sukuna getting to like you? No, that’s absurd. He’s just seeing you in a better light since you’re carrying his children. It’s normal for someone to look at the mother of his children in a better light, and Sukuna guesses he falls under that category as well. As much as he likes to infamously stand out, this one time he relates to the crowd.

Even though he negates the idea that he likes you, you notice a change in him. He’s grown fonder of you. You assume that it’s because the nauseousness dies down and you’re finally eating what you’re served, just as he orders. Your taste buds aren’t fond of it, but you can eat it without puking.

You notice a change in how he treats you as time passes. He spends more time with you– Not just watching you, but actually doing an activity with you. Whenever you read, he listens; if you want to take a stroll, he joins your side, not just walking three steps behind you; if you play a game, he joins. Either he’s grown fond of you as his wife, or he realized he’s too bored by just watching you live your life. Either way, you’re happy with how it’s going.

“You’re horrible at shogi.” Sukuna points out after beating you for what feels like the hundredth time in the day. He likes your perseverance at least. Humans are so fascinating in that aspect. They refuse to give up even if they have no chance of winning. Sukuna has lost count of the times he’s killed someone because they bet on something that they had no chance of winning.

“Hina tells me I’ve improved! I’m always beating her.” You claim, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. What a pretty little fool you are.

“And why do you think that is?” Sukuna feels like he has to dumb it down for you, and you scoff. You cross your arms, resting on top of your very noticeable bump. Sukuna smirks as he looks at you. You’re at least three months along, and you’re already huge. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’re expecting twins.

“Would it hurt you to let me win?” You mutter, and Sukuna hums in response. You huff as you stand up, refusing to play with him anymore. Maybe it’s the reason why Hina always lets you win, you’re a sore loser. “I don’t want to play with you anymore.”

“Good. I need a challenge.” 

“You’re a big dumb loser.” You stick out your tongue at him, but you quickly regret your actions when he glares at you. You know he won’t touch you or harm you in any way, but a single look is enough to send chills down your spine.

“Calling me a loser when you’ve lost more games than I can count… That’s rich.” He responds, which makes your back stiffen. You’re taken aback by his response, considering how quick it is. You’ve never assumed that Sukuna would have a sharp tongue; to you, he’s simply loud and scary which is why people are terrified of him, so it comes as a shocker when he actually has a smart response.

“I’m going on a walk.” You tell him, causing him to rise and go to your side. There’s absolutely nothing that you’re allowed to do alone, and you feel suffocated. You’ve asked him to give you a moment to yourself daily but you have no authority over him, and he makes it clear by not leaving you alone.

“It’s getting colder. You won’t be going on walks next week.” Sukuna says, which is an order rather than a prediction. A slight pout comes to your face, knowing that you have to find something else to do. 

For the first time in your life, you’re bored. You have nothing to do, and you find yourself staring at a wall for hours on end. You have too much time on your hands, and you find yourself thinking about what the future awaits. You wonder if after giving birth to his children, you'll be able to see your family. And you don’t want to be overwhelmed by your thoughts, which is why you try to keep yourself entertained, always.

“What will I do then?” You ask him as you exit the room. Your question receives no response, just as you expected. He isn’t very talkative during your walks, he just listens to you with no response. You guess his presence is better than none during your walks.

“You’re right, it is getting chilly.” You try to make conversation when you get outside, but as to be expected, he doesn’t say anything. However, he does hum in response which you consider as a small win. 

You walk slowly, taking details of the giant place. You’re always amazed by its size, no matter how many times you walk past it. It’s truly fit for a king. You shouldn’t expect less for Sukuna.

“What are you planning to name your child?” You question, and you’re sure that you’re not receiving a response since after a minute, he’s quiet. You’re not disappointed by the lack of response, after all, you ask a million questions and he only answers ten.

“I don’t have a preference. You can pick.” He finally answers, which makes you completely stop in your step. He furrows his brows as he looks down at you, “What?”

“I don’t think that’s appropriate.” You respond. As if the child that you carry isn’t yours as well, but only Sukuna’s. So far, you feel none of the maternal love that women claim to carry the moment they know they’re expecting. You’re expected to nurture them, but you know that you’ll have little to no authority over them; if anything you’ll be like a servant instead of a mother. “It’s your child.”

“You are carrying them, you have some control over that.” He replies, which is his way of telling you that he has no names in mind. He wants a child, the same way a man wants a pet. He didn’t give any forethought before completing the act.

“I’ll discuss it with Hina.” You end up saying, something which he won’t argue with. You continue your walk until you see a particularly dull spot in the palace. You point at it and tell Sukuna, “Some flowers would add some color to the place.”

“Winter is approaching.” He reminds you. 

“Spring will come again.” You respond, and he subtly nods.

“I’ll speak with Uraume then.” He replies, which makes a small smile appear on your lips. You intertwine your arm with his lower one, and he doesn’t bother fighting it off. Maybe you need some support for balance, and he isn’t going to push you off. Not while you’re carrying his baby.

“You know, while we’re at it–” You begin but a simple look makes you shut up. He knows you’re about to ask about your family, and you already know the answer.

Sukuna is tired of watching over you at around midnight. He spends every minute, every hour watching over you and he needs a break. Of course, he won’t leave you alone when you’re free to run around and get your dumb self in danger. He’ll just get Uraume or that dumb servant that you adore so much to watch over you while he… Visits Kyoko for the night. 

Maybe he should catch up on some sleep lost, but that isn’t quite as entertaining. He can sleep at any other time. He wonders if you’d get jealous about that, but at the same time he can’t really care for your thoughts.

He’s about to call out for Uraume to watch over you, but you begin to tremble. You look cold. He looks for something to throw over you and warm you up, but he doesn’t see anything. He thought he stocked up the room of literally everything, but he can’t find a blanket to throw over you.

He sighs. He should just let Uraume deal with this. Or your servant. All he knows is that this isn’t his job. Sure, he’s supposed to be your husband and whatnot but he isn’t responsible to keep you warm– But you’re also carrying his seed, and he’s responsible for the babies that grow inside of you. Sukuna sits down beside you, picking you up and bringing your head to his chest. 

He’ll just hold you for a minute. He’ll give you enough time to warm up before leaving. His hand goes to your back, and he’s hesitant before gently patting your back. 

“Haru.” You mutter, and he furrows his eyebrows. Who is that? Your brother? You’re shivering, your hands gripping the cloth of his kimono. It seems that you aren’t necessarily cold, but rather having a nightmare of sorts. 

“Wake up.” Sukuna pokes your forehead to get you to open your eyes. It doesn’t take much effort on his part to wake you up. You’re short of breath as you open your eyes, and immediately you notice that he’s holding you.

“What– What happened?” You can’t help but stutter as he puts you down. You feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you’re brought back to reality.

“You tell me. You were trembling and I had to help.” Sukuna answers as he stands up. You know that he isn’t going to stand around and listen to whatever you have to say, so you don’t bother speaking up; you don’t have the energy to waste your words for uncaring ears.

“Can you call Hina? Before you leave.” You ask, and he frowns.

“Who told you I’m leaving?” He questions.

“I’ve woken up a couple of times, and realized that you’ve been leaving the room lately.” You confess, since you doubt you can get in trouble for knowing the truth. It’s his fault that he leaves, he can’t get mad at you for noticing.

“I’m not leaving.” Sukuna decides. He doesn’t like the fact that you know his next move. He sits down again, deciding to ask, “What were you dreaming?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You leave him hanging. You’ve clearly woken up in a bad mood after your nightmare, and you’ve decided to test out Sukuna’s limits. You know that he won’t do you any harm, not while you’re carrying his baby at least.

“Haru… Is that the fragile little boy I healed?” Sukuna asks and you feel your heart drop at the mention of your little brother.

“How did you–” You begin to be cut off by him.

“You were calling out his name.” He says. “Someone really important to you from what I can gather.”

“He’s the only reason I’m here.” You murmur, and Sukuna scoffs. As if being the woman that carries his child isn’t an honor. “Yeah, I just had a bad dream about him. That was that.”

“Stop thinking about an imbecile. You are a queen, and he’s barely human.” Sukuna orders, as if it’s something that you can easily stop thinking about. You wish you could just forget about him, considering that you can’t see him. Every day you wonder if he’s okay, and if he and your aunt have enough food to eat. Alas, you can’t do anything against Sukuna’s wishes.

“He’s my brother. My family.” You argue, and he clicks his tongue.

“You stopped having a family the moment you became my wife.” Sukuna responds, and you feel nauseous at his words. “The only family you have now is the babies that are in your womb, and me.”

“Why can’t he be considered my family? He’s the only reason I’m here.” You remind him, and the words tick him off.

“He’s beneath you.” He says, and the words break your heart. Haru is all you have in the world, to hear that he’s beneath you makes you upset.

“Why–”

“Enough! I said you’re going to stop thinking about him, and that’s what you’ll do. Now go to sleep.” He yells, and tears begin to well up in your eyes. You end up nodding in response, knowing you have no other option but to listen. He looks down at you, watching you get on your side and cover yourself. “Good night.”

“Night.”

[moghedien]

I've been so fascinated with how the movie pulls off the emotional climax at Ozdust, because I think its not nearly as simple as is seems to a lot of people. Like you can reduce it to "Elphaba did something nice and Glinda felt bad" and then one dance routine later they're friends

I think its a lot more than that though, and I think the movie kinda trickles things in gradually to show it throughout. And that kinda reduces it down to Glinda's guilt motivating the entire friendship, which I don't think is accurate either. Its less "Glinda feels bad" and more "Glinda and Elphaba realized they were playing entirely different games and had entirely skewed their reasons for hating each other" which included making Glinda also realize that she was being a bitch for no damned reason

Like, even their reasons for their rivalry are different from each other and so are their reasons for "maintaining" that rivalry. Their first interaction was them both mutually embarrassing each other, though only Elphaba was trying to embarrass Glinda. Which, to be clear, I'm not saying puts Elphaba in the wrong. Elphaba is very clearly in the right for I'm pretty sure all of this, and even if Glinda wasn't trying to embarrass Elphaba, it doesn't make her promising to degreen Elphaba in front of everyone any better. It's just important to understand their different perspectives on what is going on to understand the different places they're coming from. Glinda was putting on a performance of being a good person, at Elphaba's expense which she didn't even consider. Elphaba was pointing out how stupid that was and embarrassing Glinda to prove she's unbothered and correct.

That is kinda that best summary of how their rivalry goes. Glinda is performing, while Elphaba is responding to that but specifically in ways to piss off Glinda and show she's wrong. But they don't realize what the other one is doing. Glinda is performing to look like a good person and maintain the admiration of her classmates. By putting on this front of suffering by having to be in Elphaba's presence, she gets an easy win with her peers. In What is This Feeling specifically, you see them over and over again validating Glinda for just existing in the presence of Elphaba.

And given the girl sings a whole song about how "its not about aptitude, its the way you're viewed," you can assume that putting on a good appearance to her peers is probably the most important thing to her, period. Literally nothing matters more than that, and Elphaba provides an easy win. But she also has some clear attraction draw toward Elphaba that is strange and unspecified (she's gay), because she doesn't just suffer by being Elphaba's reluctant roommate, but clearly goes out of her way to partner with her, to find her at lunch, to make a scene with her in class repeatedly. Like she almost doesn't even count just having to privately live with her, she needs to bring it out in public too and spend time around her even when she should be happy to finally not have her around.

And making it all the more clear to me that all of this is, in Glinda's eyes, just a performance, we have the "looks like the artichoke is steamed" line, which is definitely one of the meanest things she says to Elphaba, but the way it goes down is fascinating. Because let's look at how that goes down:

Glinda makes a scene because Dr. Dillamond mispronounces her name.

Elphaba defends Dr. Dillamond and tries to embarrass Glinda.

Artichoke comment.

everyone is laughing at Elphaba.

To Glinda, this is what they do. They poke and poke at each other in public until one of them folds and wins, and if its her she gets public approval. But, what makes this clear to me that this is a performance is Glinda's immediate actions after the artichoke comment. When everyone is laughing, she exchanges a look with Elphaba, and the look is not mean at all. She doesn't look like she's gloating or like she just won, she just kinda nods and smiles and it seems like a genuine acknowledgment of...something. It's unclear what, but she doesn't seem like she's overly proud. It's like she's nodding to someone who just played a good game against her, but lost and she wants them to know they played well. It's bizarre the look here and fascinating.

And even more bizarre because Elphaba seems to acknowledge it as well and seems like she understands and almost smiles in response. But I think this also illustrates the disconnect in them for what their rivalry is.

So looking at Elphaba now, her approach to her rivalry began with her embarrassing Glinda, as mentioned before, and continued with her embarrassing Glinda. Most of what she is doing is trying to intentionally embarrass Glinda, which as I said before, isn't really wrong because Glinda is as far as we ever see, the one who is in the wrong and who starts the whole thing by embarrassing Elphaba. But as I said before, embarrassing Elphaba isn't the point of what Glinda is doing, she's trying make herself look better and is just using Elphaba, but literally how would Elphaba know this and why would it matter?

We see that Elphaba has been targeted and mocked her entire life, and that is basically what Glinda is doing to her now. But its also different with Glinda. Because before its always like, groups of people banding against her, with Glinda its personal. She certainly has her minions and all, and basically the entire school hates Elphaba just because they love Glinda, but Glinda isn't really using them. She's still doing everything herself and seems to actually go out of her way to go against Elphaba herself.

That, as far as we know, is different than any bullying Elphaba has experienced before, and what also makes it different is that Elphaba has an advantage of having something Glinda wants and something that prevents her from being pushed aside. Elphaba is basically going to be at this school however long Madame Morrible wants her there, and Madame Morrible also hates Glinda, so Elphaba can't be pushed away and she also has this one thing to hold over Glinda, because she's the one getting the attention that Glinda actually wants. And she's also potentially the only one that might help Glinda get it.

In a really weird way, this rivalry with Glinda might be the closest thing to a friendship that Elphaba has had from someone that isn't her sister or her nanny. Because its both of them personally going after each other and they both also have advantages over each other. And its clear that Glinda could be using her peers to target Elphaba but isn't. And Elphaba also makes it clear that she can ignore people she doesn't like, and yet she doesn't ignore Glinda. Because both of these freaks enjoy poking each other nonstop forever too much. There is something that draws them together (homosexuality) even when they supposedly can't stand to be around one another. Glinda is performing, but Elphaba is having the time of her life sparring with someone in a way she probably never has before.

Which takes us to the hat.

Elphaba approaches Glinda because, according to Nessarose, Glinda did something nice for her. We don't know specifically what Elphaba was going to say to Glinda, but it seems like its something she isn't comfortable with. Maybe she was trying to figure out what Glinda's motivations were. Maybe she was just going to thank Glinda for what she did. Either way, we don't know because Glinda interrupts her by giving her the hat and really talking up that damned hat too. Not only giving her the hat, but specifically inviting Elphaba to go out with them. Elphaba has probably never gotten anything like that before.

Elphaba, who has had the time of her life being antagonistic with Glinda up until this point, now thinks that Glinda is doing nice things for her and for her sister, for seemingly no reason. So she returns the favor and makes Madame Morrible accept Glinda as a student and tell her that night. That night, because this was going to be best night for Nessarose, maybe for Elphaba too now, so let Glinda have something too. Maybe this rivalry was turning into something else and maybe Elphaba was glad for it.

Only, Glinda wasn't being nice.

Glinda getting Boq to ask out Nessarose wasn't to be nice to Nessarose. She wanted Boq to leave her alone. And she didn't give Elphaba the hat and invite her out to be nice, she wanted to embarrass her after receiving validation for the idea from Pfannee and Shenshen.

What you need to know about Glinda here, is that she does not think about other people. She will throw a fit at Dr. Dillamond mispronouncing her name because he physically can't say it right and then repeatedly call Boq by the wrong name. She doesn't know if Nessarose wants to go to the dance or if Elphaba wants her to stop mocking her. She doesn't even consider these things when deciding to do something for her own benefit. She is doing as Glinda must do to perform as she needs for her audience (the entire world).

Which is how we end up here, at the emotional climax of the night. When she discovers that Elphaba did one very nice thing for her after she did something specifically to humiliate Elphaba, its not just guilt for this one moment, right? Its guilt for every little thing that she's done that she just assumed wasn't actually affecting someone else. Her mocking Elphaba and doing all these things wasn't actually about Elphaba, after all, it was about Glinda looking well. Because she didn't even really think about Elphaba, or how she might be interpreting what their dynamic is or that she might actually have been hurt by the things Glinda does. It was all a performance to Glinda.

But is was something else to Elphaba entirely.

And so we look at all the times, like the artichoke moment or their introduction, where Elphaba didn't seem all that upset and maybe Glinda realizes that wasn't always the case. She just wants people to think she wasn't. She was performing too, just not in the same way Glinda was. She was enduring the disapproval of others because she was maintaining this dynamic with Glinda, whereas Glinda was getting approval from others for enduring Elphaba. They were playing different games entirely and Glinda didn't know until Madame Morrible gave her the wand. It wasn't just the cruelness of the hat that she realized, it was the cruelness of single thing she's ever done to Elphaba.

And looking from Glinda's perspective, it makes sense if you see that she's forced to reckon with the fact that she's a terrible person and doesn't like herself, but look at what the situation is from Elphaba's. To Elphaba, Glinda is the first person that saw that she'd hurt Elphaba and then reached out to comfort her and try to help fix it instead of laughing or getting upset or doing nothing. Like I said before, the dynamic she has with Glinda before this is maybe the closest thing she has had to a friend, which is fucked up. But also part of me wonders, based on how they're seemingly drawn together when they could just ignore each other and based on Elphaba's reaction to Glinda's sort of nod after the artichoke comment, AND based on how quick Elphaba was to approach Madame Morrible, part of me wonders if Elphaba was just hoping for a moment when their antagonism would end the whole time. And that's why she's so willing to accept that once Glinda does something that Galinda is not supposed to do and makes a fool of herself to support Elphaba in front of all of the people she's supposed to be putting on a show for.

Which I think, makes Glinda joining Elphaba in the dance that much more important. Because, and I love this for the movie, she's not getting praised for doing so. Shenshen and Pfannee tell her to stop. The initial reaction she gets once people realize she isn't mocking Elphaba is scorn. For like, this one little moment they're on the same page. Glinda is getting disapproval for being with Elphaba here. And it ends in them being accepted by the party, but that almost seems to be unimportant. They hug before they realize that everyone else has joined in, and once they realize it, they leave the party together pretty much immediately. Their relationship has been a show in public for so long and so what happens next when they stop performing happens in privacy, just for them.

[satorurize]

𐙚 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄¡!

cw. 18+ flithy smut, Sub!Gojo, Dom!Reader, Enemies to lovers, gojo is a virgin and the word loser is used a lot.

AcademicRival!Satoru believed he'll have a merry time getting paired with you for your upcoming assignment, afterall, you were fun to pick on and he adored the way the vein would pop on your forehead after he says something to completely throw you off the tracks. His plan was to make you do all the work while he gets on your nerves to pass his time.

Satoru prides himself in being jack of all trades, he's the captain of the collegiate basketball team, student body president, has 4.0 GPA in his astrophysics major and is on the dean's list, his stunning good looks were to kill for and to add to those never ending positive attributes he's filthy rich, if it wasn't so obvious by his sports car's raging engine whenever he drifts it around in the campus. Gojo Satoru was a star. Gojo Satoru was game.

Admirers and people lining up for him was no big of a deal, it is the routine when you're him. You're one of the many people who find him fascinating, find him attractive (which was something you would never admit to, even if a ceiling fell over you) but still, why was he shaking his legs underneath the table while he watches the furrow of your brow focused on the screen in his dorm room? He's way too distracted to read this paper about Aesthetics and Marxism—he only took up sociology because it was a humanities requirement within his course and also because he was utterly, out of his mind bored.

Feeling the burning gaze of his abnormally blue eyes, you slam your fist onto the table and anyone who was in their right mind would be able to decipher that your expression was twisted in unfiltered annoyance, the mask of a small, pleasant smile as your veins popped on your forehead was failing miserably. "We could get a lot done if you didn't think this was a staring contest"

"Wow, really? I did think it was a staring contest with how boring all this is" He mocked knowing it would only agitate you further, his eyes shamelessly trailed over the plushness of your thighs and how the skirt fabric sat on top of it, his thoughts were digressing, wondering about the colour of your pant—

"What are you looking at, pervert..?" You point it out to break the unholy chain of his thoughts immediately, his eyes widened by being caught off-guard, evading away to focus on the papers in front of him, lasering his eyes to aim at understand at whatever 'Russian constructivism' meant, his fist gripped the pencil tighter and tighter as he felt unbelievably panicked at being caught, the trance of embarrassment breaking away along with a sharp 'snap' of the pencil.

With a faltering attempt to maintain his cockiness, Satoru looked at you. "Just looking at how much of a loser you look, even broke a pencil because it's annoying how nerdy you dress" a painful roll of his eyes followed by, but his ventures to cover the way he felt were too poor and what was the parameter? The goddamned seductive smile on your pretty lips.

Gojo Satoru was game, but he was a fucking virgin.

"Lying is not going to save your ass, I can literally see the tent in your pants, what are you..a teenager..?" The mockery in your eyes and the superiority you had over him in that very moment was enough to make him let go of his guards and feel his knees buck. You were beautiful and he was so pathetically down bad for that.

"Unlike you, I have many things to excel at..who has time for something as stupid as this anyway" You had to give some kudos for the fact that his voice remained balanced despite the throbbing erection in his pants, and you made a face with slanting pursed lips that was to show him you believed him, although anyone could tell you didn't.

"what is with that face? You think you're better than me? What do you know about sex, having your cute nose burried in those stupid books all day.." And that statement makes you raise your brow, Satoru Gojo, called you cute? This was something, this was when he knew he messed up and you had all the power.

"Why don't I show it to you then? You wanna be a loser in this one area? Come on.. you're better than that, right?" Satoru gulped, the offer was beyond tempting, all those fantasies he ran his mind for while wrapping his hand around his cock in his dark dorm room, relieving himself while yearning for the warmth for your mouth and cunt—finally had the chance to be fleshed out to life. It was tempting indeed but what about his ego?

"Sure, I bet you suck at this too" He huffed a laugh with his faux confidence, only to be miserably proved wrong within a few minutes.

"Please— fuck! Your mouth feels so good.." He breathed heavily with an almost violent rise and fall of his chest, his legs sprawled wide as he was on the couch of his room and you, his beautiful arch-nemesis was skillfully using his cock like it was your personal toy. Satoru didn't feel he was being sucked off for his pleasure, he was being sucked off to be proven of the fact that you were in control here.

He reached his trembling hands to tangle within your locks as you let a thick glob of your spit fall onto his tip with a grin, tantalisingly rubbing it on your glossed lips. "Better than your stupid fist right?" And he moans at that degradation, his eyes marbeling with glassy tears, your pride swelled more than anything.

"Ever seen tits in real life? Or are you that much of a loser to have Inoue Waka as your wallpaper.." You teased further, unbuttoning your blouse and unfastening your bra from the front to spill out your breasts and Satoru's brain simply short circuits the moment the cushiness of your tits gather around his cock and he feels the tightening sting on his abdomen, dripping out loads of his cum onto your tits, painting you like the masterpiece you were with thick ribbons of his ejaculate.

You hum, licking a long strip from his base, swirling your hot tongue around his softening, sensitive frenum as he is limp by the pleasure.

"There's no way you're this good.." He spoke, almost sounding as if something unbelievable happened, almost angry.

"Such a good boy 'Toru.." You giggle in response, kissing his abdomen and he feels pathetically, helplessly in love with you.

Gojo Satoru was game, but you were a roulette.

[rayroseu]

Always wrecks me up that Meleanor is as forgotten as Knight of Dawn is, that even her son doesn't remember her.

Just like Silver, Lilia didn't inform him of his identity as a Silver Owl so that Silver can live without guilt of the atrocities his original kingdom did.

But, I think, in Malleus' case, Lilia and Maleficia (I think) didn't inform him too much about Meleanor's demise, not so much because they don't want to guilt Malleus about her sacrifice to him, that's a part of it, but I also think it was more so that his hatred for humans wouldn't go deeper. Especially since he was raised in the castle with only the Senates and pure faes who has limited interaction with humans, so naturally he grew disliking humans too (until he met Silver).

As we know, Malleus is very attached to his past, that's why in Book 7, he's having a hard time to let go. Even his interests mirrors his tight attachment to the past, i.e his fascination on history, ruins, antiques, abandoned places, etc.

I think in an alternate reality where he had knew about every detail that happened on Meleanor and Levan and the faes on Wild rose Castle basically, his view on humankind would be even more negative. He might even reject his invitation on NRC just like Gen. Lilia did. And, unlike Lilia, since Malleus always attaches to the past and not on the possible future, he might even never give chance that he can get along with humans.

I know its popular analysis that Meleanor and Malleus are different, but to me, they're fundamentally the same person, just raised in a different environment. Meleanor was never given a chance to see a good side of the humans, Malleus was like that for a bit, even in NRC, he still held his deep rooted belief that he really doesn't believe that humans would understand faes as Lilia hopes (Dorm Uniform Vignette). Malleus and Meleanor are the "same person" but Malleus just "had the chance to not know" the entire history of it, so that he can form his own opinion about it as he grows up.

Even if he grew up knowing it, it would be immature to stay on his hatred for humans for so long (I think Malleus would do this considering his trait of being attached to the past) and I think Lilia and Maleficia didnt want Malleus to grow up like that,, they must usher him to a better future yk.

Its just that its tragic that for Malleus to grow up and take a chance towards a better future, he has to forget major things about his mother and all the sacrifices that his family made, just so he wouldn't be "stuck with it. "

Maybe in a reality where Malleus does know every detail of his history, but just that, it would take a long time for him to let go of his guilt and hatred, that by the time he's ready to forgive humankind, Lilia might not be there to guide him anymore.

I think I read an analysis back then (or was it a legit line in game?? lol) that Malleus shouldve been in Briar Valley for just a bit longer instead of suddenly transferring to NRC where there'll be too many culture shock for him, he's just not entirely capable yet of balancing his feelings and power, but I think Maleficia/Lilia couldn't afford to have that much time to emotionally grow Malleus in Briar Valley, for the reason that by the time Malleus would be in control of his power and feelings, Lilia wouldn't be there anymore to guard him in NRC and guide him about human culture. (He says his magic weakens over the years)

I feel like Maleficia only agreed to take Malleus to NRC bcs Lilia will be there, he's the perfect guide for Malleus to have with in NRC, he's strong so he can physically protect him while also being a wise person that can teach Malleus about understanding humans while still upholding his fae values. Other guards wouldn't be suitable. Silver and Sebek are not fully trained, Baul is an advisor now not a soldier and he wouldn't be a great guide to have in human society lol So, she has to take that chance while Lilia is still here, even if Malleus is just "too young."

side note: what if thats also the reason why Maleficia let go of Meleanor to Wild Rose Castle alkfdklsd She trusted Lilia and Levan would protect her and they did yet even so.... ����😭😭 I feel like its so tragic that everytime Maleficia let go of Meleanor/Malleus, they're always leading into a danger where she cannot reach and help them (on Meleanor's case, the communication on Black Scale and Wild Rose was disrupted bcs every envoy that Lilia and other soldiers sent to inform Maleficia that Wild Rose was besieged was all killed by the Silver Owls, so Maleficia knew too late. On Malleus' case, it would be too risky for her to just suddenly show up on Sage Island, it would leave Briar Valley in a very vulnerable state with no Draconia residing in their land, STYX is calling her to meet Malleus but I think many faes would disagree on their plan bcs that's exactly the type of situation that cornered Meleanor years ago, Levan/Malleus is lost and in danger so Meleanor/Maleficia has to save them, if you think about it in Briar Valley's view, it feels like a trap lol. It's not an easy decision to just let go of their only Draconia ruler to a human territory and on top of that, they're on the verge of losing one(Malleus). I wish they create a scene of the Briar Govt in the book, I'm sure the Senates are in ruins and regretting that Malleus went to that school or something, like its always STYX when its equally intriguing to know Maleficia and the Senates reaction to Malleus' overblot.

I find it really depressing that Malleus, like Silver, was born out of so much love from their family, yet they never knew the full scope of it (until now). 😭😭😭

[demonic0angel]

Dan being forced to go to anger management therapy hosted by Harley Quinn.

(I refuse to believe that Dan would be forced into anything, so this is a Dan in Arkham AU lmao)

Wraith huffed angrily. “And that’s why he deserves pain and suffering.”

Harley stared at him in fascination, tapping a finger on her lips. It had been weeks after their breakout from Arkham, and Wraith was quickly becoming a good friend of the Sirens. It had reached a point where now, he was spilling his secrets over a glass of wine (stolen from a Bruce Wayne-endorsed party), about a boy he used to be and the timeline he came from.

It wasn’t the weirdest thing ever, since this was Gotham after all, but it was still both disturbing and thralling.

Harley could not help but stare as Wraith grumbled to himself, blue eyes flashing crimson and sharp fangs being bared in a snarl. Then she asked, “Did your sister ever say anything about this?”

Wraith huffed and swirled his wine lightly. “She said it’s a form of self-hatred. Because I blame myself for our family’s deaths, I blame Danny too. But I don’t care. We are the same person but we are not the same. He is still human, while I have transcended past mankind to be something greater.” His fingers clenched on the stem of the wine glass. “It’s not fair how he gets to be happy, but I can’t.”

A god complex, a superiority complex, and an inferiority complex, all born from the loss of family and self-identity. His psyche was absolutely damaged by his previous experiences, and trauma had made him into something very, very twisted. It was probably true that he was not human anymore, but it was so interesting how he had abandoned his humanity so thoroughly and thrown it aside.

“You can’t?” Harley asked. “Or you won’t?”

Wraith’s expression twisted. “I can’t.”

That didn’t seem right.

He was happy when eating red meat and drinking expensive wine. He was rather happy when they went shopping and included him in their jokes and games. He was plenty happy when he talked about his sisters. He was very happy when interacting with Nightwing, who seemed to effortlessly peel away his layers to reveal a playful, gentle personality that did not seem to be a facade.

“You seem happy around Nightwing,” Harley said. “And us. What do you think of that?”

Wraith glared at her lightly, but he didn’t seem angry, not like how he was when he talked about his little brother, his other self. The venom in his voice and eyes when he talked about his younger self would’ve been better deserved if he was talking about the Anti-Christ, but Harley didn’t voice this.

“Nightwing has the purest soul in this world. It’s strong and beautiful because of how kind it is. It should be a crime to be cruel to it, not when he’s so… good.” His expression gentled and he swirled his wine again before taking a sip. “And you and the others are… nice to me. I don’t want to spoil your fun.”

Harley beamed. “Aww, we like you too, Wraith-y poo!”

Wraith rolled his eyes and took another sip. Harley poured him some more without him asking, and they drank their wine in silence.

Eventually, Harley said, “It’s not healthy to hate yourself so much, y’know? Maybe you don’t want advice, but I think your sister would agree with me. You should let go of the past and live in the present. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore, does it?”

Wraith scowled. “It may not exist anymore, but I came from that timeline. I am who I am because of my family’s deaths and because of Danny.” The hatred in his voice was deep and potent, making Harley shiver. “It can never let me go and I can never let it go either. The past shaped me in ways that cannot be undone.”

Harley took a sip of wine to think. Then she said, “Well. No matter what, me and the girls are here for you. And I think Nightwing really likes you too! Really!”

Wraith hummed, eyes half lidded before he turned and looked at her with a quirk to his lips like a small, genuine smile. “Yes, I know. Thank you, Harley.”

She grinned. “No problem!”

They continued drinking together in companionable silence.

[the-badger-mole]

Clouds, Fog and Mists

The scholars and archeologists that Aang had been working with had come out of their museum basements and dimly lit studies with a wealth of Air Nomad histories and artifacts that had been lost during the war. Aang now had access to recipes he hadn't tasted in years, scrolls that gave historical context to the things he had just begun learning at age 12, and objects he had never seen, but was excited to learn the use of. At 22, he was just now learning that the Air Nomads had a variety of subcultures and customs he'd never encountered, even though he had visited every Air Temple that existed back then.

"Did you know..." became as common to his vocabulary as "hello" and "custard tart". Every day, he approached his wife with some new bit of lore he'd learned.

"Did you know that the Southern Air Nomads had a Festival of Remembrance?" he'd excitedly asked as Katara was hanging the laundry out to try. She was only half listening while she tried to keep Bumi, their nearly three year old son out of the basket of wet sheets, but she gave a polite hum of encouragement.

"For a whole week," Aang continued needing no further prompting, "no one was allowed to play music or speak. They even wore velvet over their feet so their footsteps wouldn't be too loud. Then, at the end of it, there was a huge party! Loud as anything with music and plays and games. I think I remember going one of those ending parties, but I didn't know about the vow of silence before it."

"That's fascinating, sweetie," Katara said, rubbing her heavy belly with a look of discomfort. She was seven months along with their second child, and this one was very active. "Bumi, last warning. Do not touch the clean clothes!"

"Okay, Mommy!" Bumi said before swatting at one of the sheets Katara had hung on the line. She sighed and turned to her husband.

"Can you take him?" she asked. "I'm tired, and I'd like to take a nap after I finish this."

"Oh," Aang said reluctantly. "I was going to have an afternoon session with the Acolytes. I'm dying to tell them what I've been learning."

"Aang, please?" Katara sagged tiredly, taking Bumi's hand and pulling him away from all her hard work.

"Alright," Aang sighed. "I'll watch him for a bit. Come on, Bumi! Let's go practice some air katas! I want you to be ready when your airbending kicks in!"

-:-:-:-:-:-

All Air Nomads were airbenders. That's what Aang had always been taught. He had to account for late bloomers, of course, but at age four, going on five, if Bumi was going to be an airbender, there would've been signs by now. Kya was a lost cause. She had started waterbending just before her second birthday, and despite the fact that her father was the Avatar, there was no chance that she would inherit the ability to control more than one element.

"Well, maybe it's not true that all Air Nomads were benders," Katara said with a shrug. "After all, not every Water Tribesman is a waterbender, and not everyone in the Earth Kingdom is an earthbender."

"It's different," Aang insisted. "The monks told me that all Air Nomads were benders because we have a unique connection with our spirituality." Katara didn't quite manage to hide her annoyance from him.

"Then explain our kids," she said. "Unless you're the first Air Nomad in history to have children with a non-Air Nomad, someone somewhere got something wrong." Aang went quiet after that. He had no response.

"Just because the Air Nomads may have had children with people from other nations doesn't mean that their children were Air Nomads," an acolyte named Qiao said. She was one of the most apt and studious of Aang's Air Acolytes, and they had spent many hours together pouring over the newly discovered texts. Sometimes, Aang thought that she had a better grasp of Air Nomad culture than even he did.

"I suppose....I suppose that's true," Aang said thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea.

"The Air Nomads were mostly not monogamous," Qiao pointed out. "I'm sure there were a lot of Nomads who had understandings with their lovers from other nations. Especially among the Air Acolytes of the day."

Aang pondered that for the rest of the day. Then the next. Then the rest of the week before he finally approached Katara. He found her by the fountain with Kya and Bumi. Kya was busy making imperfect little shapes with the water while Katara was teaching Bumi how to put his hair into a warrior's wolf tail.

"You look just like your uncle Sokka," she laughed, pressing a kiss on her son's cheek. "I bet you'll be a great warrior just like him, too." That twisted Aang's gut uncomfortably. He cleared his throat to get Katara's attention.

"Hey, sweetie," he said.

"Hey," Katara smiled at him. "We're just about to have story time. Do you want to stick around for How Umiak Rowed Her Boat to the Stars?"

"Oh, um..."Aang shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Sure. I was just...thinking of something."

"Yeah?" Katara raised her brow at him. "What?"

"I was just thinking of how all the Air Nomads were benders." Katara didn't bother trying to hide her disgusted snort or the rolling of her eyes.

"Okay, and?" she huffed. "Did you draw any new conclusions?"

"I can't have been the only Air Nomad to have children with someone from a different culture," he said. Katara stared at him blankly for a long moment.

"I told you that," she responded finally. "It's just now sinking in?'

"No, I understood you," Aang told her. He kicked at the ground. There was a loose pebble under his toe and he focused on rolling it back and forth. "It's just...well, the Air Nomads, they weren't strictly monogamous."

"Monogamous," Katara scoffed. "That's a big word for you." Aang bristled a bit at that, but he took a breath and let it go.

"I was just reading," Aang said with a shrug. "It occurred to me that maybe because the Air Nomads weren't monogamous, they just didn't bring their non-bending kids into the Air Nomad society." Katara looked up at Aang with her eyes wide.

"That's awful!" she said. "So because their kids didn't bend the right elements, they had to be cut off from one of their parents?"

"No, I'm sure it wasn't as bad as all that-" Aang started to protest.

"What exactly are you saying, Aang?" There was a dangerous edge to Katara's voice. A warning.

"Nothing, nothing!" he scrambled back, tripping over his tongue, trying to call back his words, and cursing himself for trying to bring up the subject without a plan. Katara eyed him coldly. She was angry and trying not to show it.

"It's time for lunch," she told her children. "Let's go inside and fix something to eat."

"But Mommy," Bumi protested. "I want to hear about Umiak!" Katara turned to him with a tight smile.

"That's okay, sweetie," she said. "I'll tell you while you help me fix lunch." With one last scowl at Aang, she took Bumi's hand and swung Kya up onto her hip and went inside.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Aang felt vindicated when it was discovered that he and Qiao were right. The Air Nomads would often leave non-airbending children with their non-Nomad parents. Sometimes the Air Nomad parent would stay with their non-Nomad partners and build a life with them and their children (something he made a note to tell Katara about). Then it was discovered that they were only partially right.

Some of the Air Nomads stayed and raised mixed heritage families. Some left their non-airbending children behind with their non-Nomad partners. That was expected. Reasonable, even. What Aang was not expecting, however, were the accounts of non-airbending children being given away. Some were adopted, and those adoptions were traceable through documents and letters. Others were sold. Those transactions were traceable, too. By most accounts, those children went into indentured servitude and many of them learned trades and were able to start businesses once their indenture was up. Aang tried to focus on the positives. Katara, however, was horrified.

"What right did they have to sell those children into...into slavery?" she demanded hotly while they were getting ready for bed.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Aang insisted. "After all, the Air Nomads wouldn't have put children into situations where they could've been hurt."

"Yes," Katara sneered. "I'm sure their new owners were very gentle with their exploitation."

"That isn't fair!" Aang protested. "Do you know how difficult it would've been for those kids to live among the Nomads?"

"Probably about as easy as it's been for our kids." Katara glared at Aang meaningly. He felt his cheeks heat as he looked away, pretending not to understand.

Bumi was going on eight now, and Kya was five. They were both old enough to ask questions about why it was so difficult for them to move around their own home. Katara and the Acolytes had an easier time being adults and able to maneuver obstacles that short legs and small hands couldn't without help, but it was still a regular challenge to get around the Air Temple for them. Aang was in the process of building a complex near Republic City where non-airbending Acolytes could live and learn with more ease, but it wouldn't be ready for anyone to move into for another year or so. It would be safer for children with no airbending ability, too. Aang glanced over at Katara from the corner of his eye, at the soft swell of her stomach, already showing signs of pregnancy at her second month.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Tenzin was the last of Aang's children with Katara, and the only airbender. When he was almost one, he airbent for the first time, and Aang couldn't stop celebrating for an entire week. When Tenzin was two, the first of the burial mounds were discovered.

Archaeologists working at the mostly restored Northern Air Temple found it at the base of the mountain. There were several layers to the grave, suggesting generations' worth of use. Most of the bones were small. Infant and toddler sized. The largest bones were about the size of an average eight year old. The bones were all jumbled together, as if they had been tossed in a heap. Some of them wore the clothes they were buried in, but most of the bones were too broken to hang on to any frabric. There were also no signs of any shrouds or anything indicating that they had been given any of the customary funeral rites of the Air Nomads. The fact that they were found at the base of the mountain in itself was unusual. All the different groups of Air Nomads had their own unique funeral customs, but one thing that remained the same was that they were laid to rest as close to the sky as possible.

When the first reports of how the children came to be at the base of the mountain came out, Aang was certain it was the rankest propaganda. None of the Air Nomads, no matter how stringent they were about non-airbenders living among them, would ever harm a child. For a while, he seemed to be right, as all the proof was from secondary and tertiary sources.

"Lies the Fire Nation used to justify genocide," Aang said confidently.

"But how did the children get there?" Katara asked. Aang had no answer for her. Yet. There must have been a good one, though. Maybe a plague had run through the Air Temple, forcing them to bury the bodies at the bottom of the mountain to prevent contamination, or something equally tragic. Aang began talking to the archaeologists about giving the bones a proper burial as soon as they could be sorted. The count at that time was 700 bodies in the pile and there were still so many more to go.

A few months after that, the oldest of the Air Nomad accounts were uncovered. It went back a good 300 years, and it spoke about a surplus of infants born without the gift of airbending. There were too many to be disposed of the normal ways, and many of the non-bending parents were unwilling or unable to raise the children themselves. The anonymous monk wrote of a meeting to discuss the crisis. They wouldn't be able to care for so many that couldn't get around the temple, or travel with the Nomads. There was a food shortage. A water shortage. An everything shortage. So the head monk suggested giving the children to the air. That had been the first time the practice had been recorded, near as anyone could tell. But some of the bones were older than that.

That's what they called it. It sounded lovely. Poetic even. In practice, though, the babies were carried to the edge of the temple grounds and held in the air. A short prayer was said for the souls of the children, and then they just...let go. They were so high up, they probably couldn't hear the children hit the ground.

The public began to call them the Fog Children. They were babies born to Air Nomad parents, but without airbending abilities themselves. People clung to the term and it soon spread all over the world in hushed whispers. Aang hated it. Katara hated it. It was the only thing they could agree on by that time.

"It isn't fair!" Aang bemoaned. "It's like people are using it to justify the Fire Nation killing all the Air Nomads."

"If it bothers you so much," Katara said after she'd put the kids to bed, "then speak up! Condemn what they did."

"I do!" Aang insisted. He had protested, loudly that all of the Air Nomads shouldn't be judged by what one fringe sect did.

"Not just them," Katara said. "All of it. It's just like with the Fire Nation. Remember what Zuko said? You can't expect to move forward without acknowledging the past. All of it was wrong. The Air Nomads treated their non-bending children as if they had no value. Condemn the adoptions and abandonings and the selling of the children!"

"How is it my responsibility to make up for all of that?" Aang demanded.

"You're the only one left," Katara reminded him, trying to be gentle. "I'm not saying you have to call the Air Nomads monsters. They did something wrong. They were human. You can acknowledge that and commit to being better than that."

"How?"

"Start with your children."

It had been a frequent argument between Katara and Aang how Aang treated their children. Bumi was 13 now, well on his way to becoming a man. Kya was 11 and Tenzin was five. Often, Katara would quiz Aang on his children- what Kya's favorite color was, or the name of Bumi's best friend. Aang could admit that he was correct about Tenzin more often than the others, but it was only because Aang had so much he had to teach his youngest. Katara should've understood that. After all, there were things she did with Kya that she couldn't do with Bumi or Tenzin.

"It's not the same," Katara told him. Aang could never remember why, though.

For the next year or so, Aang spent much of his time doing damage control. He did his best to separate the practices at the Northern Air Temple and the particular sect of Air Nomad culture that grew around it from the rest of the Air Nomads. Every criticism of the culture was met sharply by Aang's rebuttals and justifications. Penning article after article espousing the virtues of the Air Nomads at large became his full time job, and obsession. It took him two weeks to notice that Katara had left with all three of his children, and another month for him to find the letter Katara had left in his bedside table telling him she was seeking a divorce.

He got Tenzin three months of the year. It was all he could manage, being completely unused to parenting alone. Aang taught his son what he could of airbending and the Nomad philosophy he could in that time, and did his best to ignore the people whispering fog children in the same breath as his oldest children.

[tcoaal]

What's your take on the thought Andrew and Ashley were born sociopaths and doomed from the beginning?

is this a take people actually have??? anyways: ableist as fuck lmao

i am of the very strong opinion Ashley is absolutely neurodivergent with both autism and ASPD. admittingly the former is something i have a tendency to do and i won't necessarily die on the hill: something that really fascinated me in scenes in Chapter 3A is how Ashley just sincerely does not seem to understand social norms that should be obvious to anyone else. various scenes in her childhood, and especially with the campers while obviously not in the same level kinda resonated with experiences with not understanding social norms me and my brother struggled with growing up.

but also i admittingly hc and project this a lot on socially awkward characters so take that part with a grain of salt and it's not really a hill i'm willing to go die on or debate especially when i think ASPD and BPD are bigger issues with her. i highly doubt any of these terms will actually come up in the game and it will remain a headcanon, but the idea that anyone can be "born" evil and a sociopath or whatever is nonsense lmao. this is a fictional game so if we learn time travel black magic whatever influenced Andrew's and Ashley's births somehow (like the twins in Clock Tower) i really reject that.

the Graves siblings are fucked up and dysfunctional because they were born into an abusive household with absolutely nobody to rely on except eachother: something both parents encouraged and forced on them. while i do think both being neurodivergent had a part in it, it's pretty clear in the game, in the promotional images even that the root of their issues is a fucked up co-dependency forever sealed in stone by a super fucked up incident (and it was an accident, they did not intend to kill Nina, this is important and a lot of people overlook this wasn't an intentional murder carried out by psychopaths) and the oath taken between two children and the refusal of the parents to care or do anything about it.

if the Graves were a genuinely loving, happy family: Ashley's and Andrew's mental health situations would be better off. even if they are neurodivergent and mentally ill they would have access to proper support, medication, therapy, and perhaps most importantly the comfort of a parent's love more instead of a fucked up relationship between a brothermotherhusband and a sisterwife. i think Ashley would be struggling a lot worse, but they'd be better.

i think the fact that in 3A we see Leyley literally react in flashbacks actively disturbed that she could just so casually admit to something so terrible. Leyley was actively disturbed and distressed about the fact she could so casually admit to killing someone and not care about it. she tries to confide in Andy but he falls asleep and that to me, more than anything, is the moment that sets everything about the woman she would become into stone. i genuinely think if Renee or even Andy (even though that was not his responsibility) made a genuine attempt to reach out in that moment and improve things (although if it was only the other Actual Child trying to help it probably wouldn't have been enough)

everything in TCOAAL is pretty explicit the root of the sibling's problems is based in a toxic codependence, not that they were evil from birth or some shit like that. i can handwave it if magic or prophecy is involved but if not i fucking hate this take in all media so much it's unreal

EDIT: i'd like to get more of my points clarified, actually

Nemlei's own view of the game is very clear she approaches this from a place of the effect of abuse of the environment has on a child. things like Ashley being autistic and aspd are headcanons of mine: but Nemlei herself would disagree with me saying that's how i should view it and that be the end-all. she is explicit this is a case of cause and effect of in-universe events, not any result of being born a certain way. this is a critical component of Nemlei's writing, given the lore of how the color of one's soul works and how one views themself. this is one of the most critical core components of the lore.

Ashley and Andrew weren't born fucked up. they were fucked up because of the environment that nurtured them. i will die on this hill, and it is the hill that Nemlei seems to view for her fiction. this is like, one of the more important takes to the themes of the story. i'm usually someone that views word of god as secondary to what is presented in the text, but this is a really important piece of information in this story.

Nemlei's narrative isn't about the idea the two were born evil or anything, it's that the awful people they became was shaped by the environment around them. i think that's important.

[maintitle]

I want to talk a little bit about the Morrigan/Mythal situation, because I've seen a lot of people talk about how Morrigan chose Mythal and chose that power and therefore this is her life and her ultimate evolution and generally just dismissing what happens to her after Mythal rejoins her as a natural evolution of the character, girlboss, ect. I don't want to be dismissive of that take because it can be one that is easily taken without reflection, but I do think it terribly misunderstands the nature of Flemeth and Morrigan's relationship and the methods by which she was very carefully raised.

So let's talk about Morrigan, how she was groomed and abused, and the training she took great pride in that was ultimately weaponized against her by design. Let's also talk about the great pains the game goes through in order to sidestep these issues, and by doing so leaving a much better story on the cutting room floor in order to make a very tepid story of parental forgiveness that misses the depth of their relationship entirely.

I'd like to say at the jump that the fusion of Morrigan and Mythal isn't a story I'm resistant too. I assumed this was the direction they would go and I truly think there was some fascinating storytelling to be had that expanded upon the themes already present in both. But I also think the Veilguard writers either misunderstand the exact nature of how Morrigan was raised, or needed to ignore it in order for Morrigan to serve as a vessel for Mythal in order to serve Solas' story (an issue I have with her use in this game in general, but that's for another post.)

The most revealing conversation that I think Morrigan has in regards to Flemeth is actually one that occurs very early in Origins. I think it's juxtaposition with other scenes is important;

Morrigan: "My Mother has been hunted from time to time, yes. My Templar fools like Alistair, which should tell you how successful they generally were. Flemeth made a bit of a game of it, in fact. The Templars would come again and she would look at me and smile and say that the fun was to begin once more."

Warden: "You really had no trouble with them?

Morrigan: "I am unsure. I was too young to understand, and perhaps 'twas bravado on Flemeth's part. Or perhaps she was merely amused. I will never know. Flemeth would warn them, once. 'Twas a warning they inevitably failed to heed." Morrigan: "And then the true game began. Often Flemeth would use me as bait." She giggles in amusement. "A little girl to scream, and run, and lure the templars deeper into the wilds and to their doom."

Warden: "Flemeth used you as bait?"

Morrigan: "'Twas a game, and I a young girl. If I didn't get to play, I would have been very upset."

This is a really important example, not just of how callously Morrigan was trained to kill when she was challenged at such a young age, but also because it exemplifies how Flemeth taught her. There's an assumption that Flemeth simply yelled and screamed at Morrigan her entire childhood, and that was true in places, but Flemeth was very crafty in how she presented the lessons that she felt were necessary for Morrigan to have.

A bit further into the conversation;

Warden: "Do you still think it was fun?" Morrigan: "I think that my Mother made it fun so that a child did not learn to fear. And I think it was necessary."

Interestingly, if you don't agree with this assessment, Morrigan ends the conversation very suddenly.

The point of highlighting both of these conversations isn't necessarily to outline the casual and cruel abuse, but instead to show how sinister Flemeth's teaching methods were. She treated a child with kindness and the warmness of a friend or Mother when it suited the needs of Morrigan's lessons, but when she broke out and did something that would endanger those teachings, she violently lashed out, as is evident with the mirror scene.

These juxtapositions are important when you look at who Morrigan becomes as an adult, and why she's sent away during the Blight at all. As we know, it was Flemeth's plan all along for Morrigan to offer the ritual before the battle with the Archdemon, but Morrigan posits that it's now her making those decisions and not her Mother. This is highlighted by the line;

Morrigan: "Some things are worth preserving in this world. Make of that what you will."

If we jump ahead a bit to Inquisition, this thought process is expanded on a lot more, in a lot more detail, highlighting the philosophy in Mythal's temple;

Morrigan: "There is... a danger to the natural order. Legends walked Thedas once, things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser. Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the well. I would have it restored"

Inquisitor: "I wasn't expecting your answer to be so... romantic."

Morrigan: "Trust me. Your surprise is matched only by my own." Sigh. "Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand: Elves, dragons, magic... the list is endless. We must stem the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true."

On a surface level, this can be seen as an evolution of who she was in Origins and what she believed then. I can see how that mistake might be made, and I can see how that thought process can lead to accidentally mistaking Veilguard's reply to it as being that same evolution. But if we look at the Dark Ritual, we see this is an opinion based within the philosphy she was always taught by Flemeth.

In order to expand on that, we can actually look to the comics, in the little-explored character of Yavana, sister of Morrigan.

I want to stress first we don't TRULY know much about Yavana. History implies she's a figure out of Antivan legend going back multiple ages, but it's sort of impossible to know if that's true or if it's even her and not a previous Witch Of The Wilds, or even a previous host of Mythal. I hesitate, therefor, to truly assume what her relationship with her Mother was like, however I will very carefully put forward that, based on what little dialogue we have of her, she may be a 'failed' daughter of Flemeth that Mythal deemed unworthy, as she knows about Mythal inhabiting her daughters, see's it as Flemeth does, and seems somewhere between disapointed and jealous in the fact that Morrigan seems to misunderstand that. (I'm not really here to run back the whole Origins possession versus Inquisition's and now Veilguard's 'a soul is not hefted on the unwilling, because frankly it doesn't really weigh in on the point being made here as much as you'd suspect, as you'll see.) But this assumption is questionable, and might be both wrong and not relevant to the issue, if perhaps fairly telling.

What we DO know about her for certain is that she was raised by Flemeth, and at some point moved to Antiva in order to nurture and preserve the return of Dragons to Thedas. Her actual wording of this point, I think, is so telling of FleMythal as a character that I almost wish it wasn't hidden away in the comics;

This is, nearly verbatim, the same message Morrigan gives both in short in Origins before the Dark Ritual, and in much more detail in the Temple Of Mythal in Inquisition. I also find Alistair's response to this INCREDIBLY telling, as one of Alistair's great talents is seeing through people;

While I think the phrasing is very purposefully dismissive and flippant, I don't think the sentiment is totally off base. It actually leads me into the entire thesis of this post, and an aspect of this relationship that some fans and even writers seem to blatantly miss;

The preservation of the old magic is not Morrigan's dream. The preservation of magic is what Morrigan was raised to value most in the world by her abuser.

To illustrate this, let's look at Morrigan's arc in Inquisition, and what it's actually saying about her and Flemythal; The cycle of abuse.

Mythal's Temple is a story about Morrigan and the folly of pride, certainly, but it's also a character arc of a woman who was very carefully raised to HAVE that pride. This isn't an assumption I have made based on evidence, Flemeth outright says it in DA2;

Hawke: "Is (Morrigan) someone I should know?" Flemeth: "She's a girl who thinks she knows what is what better than I, or anyone." Chuckle. "And why not? I raised her to be as she is. I cannot expect her to be less!"

This is, to be, the smoking gun of Flemeth's entire method of teaching and parenting. She is incredibly adept at training flaws into her daughters, pride being the greatest of them. More than that, she's very talented at imparting just enough knowledge that they think they know everything, while also holding back vast amounts of it in order to stay in control.

The Temple Of Mythal is one of the crowning achievements of that. While you can't exactly expect Mythal to have known that's where Morrigan would end up (although Morrigan certainly questions if she knew it would happen), it really hardly matters if she knew or not. Morrigan was raised from birth in order to make the exact decision she made at the Temple. The preservation of what might be lost is such a core part of her being that she can't escape it... and more than that, she can't fathom it being a negative trait. To her, it's a holy calling.

I'm going to pull out the most direct conversation of abuse Morrigan documents now, not to pile on more evidence, but instead because I think it's a more effective conversation to use as juxtaposition of why she thinks that than I could make myself;

Leliana: They say your mother is Flemeth, a witch of the Korcari Wilds. Morrigan: They also say that washing your feet in winter makes you catch cold in the head, but we all know that is not true. But sometimes they are right and they are right in this. Leliana: You know the stories about-- Morrigan: Of course. You think my mother would let me go without telling me all the stories of her youth? Leliana: My mother told me stories too. She was the one who kindled my love of the old tales and legends. Morrigan: Hmph. my mother's stories curdled my blood and haunted my dreams. No little girl wants to hear about the Wilder men her mother took to her bed, using them till they were spent, then killing them. No little girl wants to be told that this is also expected of her, once she comes of age. Leliana: I... uh... I see. Morrigan: No, you don't. You really don't.

This is the environment Morrigan grew up in. She was exposed to Flemeth taking advantage of men, she was exposed to gruesome murder both as a game and in casual moments. Any attempt she made to take self-possession or grow as a person was aggressively curtailed and broken. This was a girl so afraid of her home life that, for many years, she spent as much time as she could living amongst the animals of the forest, and escaping her home life.

Now, imagine; This same abusive woman gives you positive reinforcement. You're a child, and you crave that attention like any child would of their Mother, and you know that reinforcement comes when you're an attentive and talented student. The closest you ever are with your Mother is when you're taking in everything she has to teach you, so it becomes the center of your life. Soon, it's not just a method by which to be close to your Mother, but a core tenant in your life. They stay with you as a fascination, as something you take pride in, as a holy crusade even as you escape your abuser and move on into a happier version of your life where you've grown and matured, where you've seemingly broken the cycle.

Now, imagine the discovery that those few, core, good memories you have were horribly tainted. The lessons you were taught were cyclical, a method by which to control you and gather that which she needs. Your life goal, your career, your passion was entirely made in order to benefit the abuser you've run from your entire life. Imagine who devastating that would be.

That's what happened at the Temple Of Mythal. That was the pride that Flemeth trained into Morrigan, the path by which she wanted her to evolve. She seized that opportunity, and that opportunity either tied her to her abuser forever, and/or told her abuser where she and her son was after years of protecting him from her.

Everything you know, everything you are, everything you've protected... is based on a lie.

Morrigan's character arc in Inquisition is her breaking that cycle. 'What Pride Had Wrought' is in reference at least partially to Morrigan's personal journey, where that pride, that passion, is something she recklessly seizes on because to her it is good and right and just and hers by nature, and it is that pride that was so ingrained into her by her abuser that she watches tear her son away from her and into the hands of said abuser.

In that moment, when she's faced by everything that her pride could lose her, she is forced to reckon with everything she has ever believed, and in the face of her greatest fear... she chooses to break the cycle of abuse. She chooses to assure that her son is safe.

The most obvious quote to be in this write-up;

Flemythal: "As you wish. Hear my proposal, dear girl. Let me take the lad, and you are free of me forever. I will never interfere with or harm you again. Or, keep the lad with you... and you will never be safe from me. I will have my due." Morrigan: "He returns with me." Flemythal: "Decided so quickly?" Morrigan: "Do whatever you wish. Take over my body now, if you must, but Kieran will be free of your clutches. I am many things, but I will not be the Mother you were to me."

This is obviously Morrigan's most famous line, but I actually am not sure if folks understand the truth depth of it; This is not only breaking the cycle of abuse and freeing her son of it, but she's also going against every natural instinct that was bred into her. This woman, the girl that was raised to lure men to their deaths for fun, who's most crucial life lesson was to do anything in order to survive... accepts she will never be safe again. She accepts the possibility of constant danger just to keep her son safe a day longer, a sacrifice her Mother would have never made for her.

This was a possible full culmination of her story. And Veilguard... sort of ignores the meaning of it by giving undo attention to Flemeth's head tilt.

I want to take a moment to preface this next section by saying that I was in no way resistant to the idea of Morrigan being possessed by Mythal in Veilguard. I in fact expected it and was excited by the possibility. There was a really brilliant way to handle the situation even within the parameters of how the game handled it, but the developers chose instead to dismiss this situation in a few lines so that they could instead focus on Mythal, and her relationship with Solas.

I don't want to outright insult the writers here. Veilguard was a game I greatly enjoyed. But I do want to say this because I find it deeply regressive, and I also find the decisions that were made were a symptom of this issue; Morrigan is not in Veilguard for her own character. Morrigan is in Veilguard because she is a convenient vessel through which to explore a character that has much more importance to the main antagonist. This is already slightly regressive because it's two characters largely only serving the plot of one male character, but I find it most troubling because the character they use her for is her own abuser, and by paying as little attention to that as possible while also barely using Morrigan herself as a character, it creates a very tepid story of parental forgiveness that... doesn't work as presented.

From her scene in the Crossroads after finding all of Solas' regrets;

Morrigan: "When I learned she intended me to become the next receptacle of an ancient god's soul, I feared naught would be left of my own. It inevitably came to pass on a deep night: I was awakened by the presence of a blaze of magic in the shape of a woman who both was, and was not, my Mother."

Rook: "I don't think I'd recover from that."

Morrigan: "Neither did I, at the start. Mythal's memories were both gift and burden, this blazing woman told me, but I must accept them of my own accord. The decision was paralyzing. What would it mean to become such a host? What would be lost if I refused? In the end, 'twas something in my Mother's voice which guided me."

Rook: "What was that?"

Morrigan: "Regret. Not the regret of a God, but of a Mother who knew she would never see me again. And so my mind remains my own. What I gained was knowledge... both Mythal's, and of those who bore her."

I think you can see where the problem lies, but let me reiterate:

Morrigan was a child of abuse. That abuse was calculated, both in how she treated her aggressively and how she gave her affection. Her methods of teaching, of raising a child, were there entirely to teach that child to continue on the legacy of Mythal. The preservation of magic was imbued very carefully into Morrigan and Yavana both in order to gather and save aspects of the ancient elves, and in order to prepare them to carry Mythal's soul. Pride was a weakness trained into them from childhood, and their lofty goal of protecting ancient magic was a weapon to be wielded in order to control them. This was a cycle Morrigan first discovered in Inquisition and began to fight against, because she wanted to break the cycle of abuse for the sake of her son.

In this game, Morrigan took on the memories of Flemythal... in order to preserve ancient magic that must be protected so that it is not lost. An instinct given to her by her Mother... in order to be used as a weapon... so that one day she would take on the soul of Mythal.

I want to be clear, I am not opposed to this storyline. I'm not going to yell 'That's problematic, you can't write that!' or 'That's a regression of her character!' because I think it's a fascinating direction to take both their characters.

The problem to me isn't that they went down this pretty natural path, the problem is they did it by... sidestepping any negative parts of how this would affect Morrigan. They sidestepped the fact that the reason she accepted her was largely because of something that Flemythal trained into her and weaponized against her, and the writing treats it as... a difficult moment that eventually brought her peace.

I think this is most exemplified in the aspect of Mythal's soul that remains in the Crossroads. As a concept some are saying it's arbitrary considering how Flemythal saved herself inside of an amulet in Origins/DA2, but I think that's lacks context. It's clear Mythal couldn't prepare this time, because she didn't expect Solas to murder her. Her soul, while saving itself, fractured into pieces. I'm definitely willing to defend that choice.

The problem, I think, is more that the fracturing is seemingly mostly used as a way to sidestep how Mythal's soul fully joining Morrigan would change this scenario. Morrigan's ultimate fear was becoming one with the soul of Mythal, so in order to avoid that they've attempted to only give Morrigan the memories of Flemythal while also seemingly leaving her unchanged as a character.

My issue with this thought process, first and foremost, is that it prevents them from exploring a much better story that has the chance of presenting a much better payoff as a story of an abused child coming to terms with her Mother. It removes the chance of Morrigan's possession being a major character arc, one that would further what she went through in Inquisition while also offering Flemythal a pathway toward an understanding with her daughter so that that ending could still be explored, in order to get to where they want to truly get to as fast as possible, which is using Morrigan as an agent for Mythal's forgiveness in order to fulfill Solas' character arc.

Imagine a more fleshed out version of this story, one where Morrigan had more of a presence within it. Over time, as you discover more about Mythal out through those flashbacks, you begin to realize something is... off about Morrigan. Her unique way of talking has slowly changed, her more sarcastic and poetic tone drips away in favor of Flemythal's more loose, jovial, sometimes playful but always pointed and aggressive tone. The player is prepared to pick up on that, but Rook isn't. Things eventually come to a head where Mythal has to reveal herself, likely as an aggressor similar to how she's handled in the Crossroads, and Morrigan is actually allowed to exist within this presentation. She sneaks through occasionally. The magic of the crossroads allows her moments of clear headedness. She reflects that she accepted her Mother's soul out of that fear, and that it's begun to change her, that she's scared of what she's losing, and even more frightened of how she's coming to understand her Mother. Conflict occurs and if you've reached Morrigan, she fights against Mythal's influence and regains control enough to fracture them just enough to have to come head-to-head, where you can guide them through decades of conflict to a mutual understanding or forgiveness through this bond they have, help Morrigan fully overcome Mythal, or help Mythal dominate Morrigan. Ideally, you'd have the ability to either remove Mythal's essence from Morrigan forcefully with an 'I reject you!' scene, or you can have your moment of forgiveness where the Flemeth side of Mythal removes herself from Morrigan, perhaps into the idol you use for Solas at the end.

But that's not what they did. What they chose to do, I think, is to sidestep a difficult issue, a problem this game does tend to have. I'm not entirely sure if they didn't quite grasp Morrigan's relationship with her Mother, or felt they were forced to gloss over it either because of the world state issue or their need to use Mythal, but the decision they came to is not an acceptable payoff to that story.

The truth of the matter is, this version of the stories' either inability to explore this issue in full or it's misunderstanding of it greatly hurts the characterization and misses a massive chance at more impactful storytelling. And that, to me, is the most damning creative decision of the entire game.

[badaboomx]

I'll let you do it, hands free (Bada Lee x Fem!Reader)

PAIRING: Bada x Fem!Reader.   SETTING: A sequel from THIS - The game of cat and mouse began, and Bada is the cat on the prowl. WORDS: 3.1k

ⓘ  Sequel that really just tests my patience for tension building I swear to god–.

A game of cat and mouse had started between the two of you, not by desire but by…

“This is a competition. It was a great impression for TV, but don’t do that again,” said your leader after you all read the note from that mysterious sender. Though, you knew exactly who it was even if no one had said anything out loud. 

Despite being praised for such a wild moment for television (even if it doesn’t get aired, it’ll remain in many’s memories), you were told to consider the competition as a whole now. You weren’t ranked badly in this round, but a wrong move in the next one and you could end up in the bottom – or eliminated. Then, all this traveling would be for nothing.

Not like there was any time for you and Bada to even exchange words. After that moment, it was a war of nerves and stress with the first mission coming full speed ahead. 

Next came group battles and you and your team had the chance to tear up the stage together against another team directly. And it was as if whoever was making the matches was thinking of great television moments to fill up the screen with, because when BEBE was announced next, your team was pitted against them.

God bless a good plotline, huh?

“Ah, we can’t lose this one,” one of the members said. “We won’t, we just tear it up like we always do,” your leader said, looking at you and proceeding. “Are you ready?”

The other members were holding a smirk and laughter back, for that comment had two layers. One, it was the leader tacitly reminding you to behave and keep your head in the game. Two, reminding you that you were about to battle with the woman who sent you that curious little note. You stood up tall, pushed your shoulders back a bit and merely responded with a smile.

You both stood there facing each other, your crew of smaller numbers against BEBE full of faces you were only getting familiar with. A handful of them were fresh faced and rookies like you, but you could tell they were slightly intimidated by you and your presence. The one putting up the tough, cool front was their leader and you didn’t take offense. Your leader did that too, even if you were all nervous and anxious.

Bada had the mic, holding it like she was about to spit celestial bars. Instead, it was time for a bit of trash talking.

“We already know one of you can’t battle,” Bada said firmly into the mic, glancing your way but never letting her gaze linger. “So I’m not worried, we will win.”

The oohs and ahhs of the spectators flew largely over your head, because Bada nervously licking her lips and only facing your leader was tell-tale signs that everyone in your crew caught on. Your leader had to hold in some laughter when she handed you the mic for you to respond.

With mic in hand, you merely said. “Ah, can’t look at me in the eyes when you say that?”

It made one of your members giggle at the very least, but you had tuned out the world around you to laser focus on Bada and the way she reacted to that. She only let a small moment drift by as she nodded with her lips pressed together before she retorted, walking up to you and staring you down. “Is this better?” she paused for a second. “You. Can’t. Battle.”

Oh? What’s this? Behind the cap, hidden in its subtle shadows, were the eyes of a woman fascinated with you. She looked tough and serious, but a twinge of curiosity permeated her gaze in a way that was tough to describe. At that moment the host talked and told Bebe to get back in position to begin the match. You read that codified message written all over Bada’s face.

‘Let’s play?’

And you were ready to play.

BEBE began with their routine, a powerful showcase as you expected. The fresh faced kids showcasing they weren’t meant to be messing, Bada showing that she would face you and you directly as they all stepped up on your and your crew’s face. But she knew what she was going to do when she got right in your face. At the same time as her, your chest popped to the rhythm of their music of choice and closed the space she didn’t dare to close. Noses just measly inches apart for that brief moment she was up on your face. In the blink of an eye that taunt showcased to everyone that you weren’t slacking, you were paying attention and were predicting Bada’s move. It gave a message to people, but most importantly it was a message to Bada. 

‘I’m observing you, I’m studying you.’

Soon enough, their dance was over and it was your team’s time. Just like your leader said, you weren’t here to seduce someone, you were here to prove something. So, when Damien's Dinner Time by Czarface started blaring on the speaker, it changed the mood immediately. No sexy dancing this time, just a group of hungry wolves on the prowl to the beat of some honest to god Hip-Hop. 

Stomping, hard-hitting and smooth, that’s the attitude you and your team brought to the match. BEBE stood still and observed, knowing they better take notes – but Bada did something more than just watch. Quietly, she admired, with the ghostly essence of a smirk tugging at those lovely lips of hers. 

In a breeze, the judges had ruled in your favor and your team took the win. BEBE knew how to lose though, approaching with cordial thanks and compliments before they were to retire to their seats. Oh, you didn’t miss a beat, swiftly moving through to find Bada and face up to her with a satisfied smile. This time a similar smile came to Bada’s face. Her hand came out, you grabbed it and shook it, and she pulled you a little closer and whispered in your ear.

“That was fun.”

Simple, and to the point.

You would not be able to meet or talk to her properly until after the first crew got eliminated. Back to back missions meant that no one had the time to get to know one another that well beyond the fight zone, and it meant that you and Bada were far apart without wanting to be.

During the main dancer mission, you didn’t get the pleasure to compete with Bada. However, she got the pleasure to observe you tear up the dancefloor and nearly steal a choreography on the Rookie class. And you knew she was observing, because your team members made it a point to bring it up to you on down time.

“Bada’s been looking at you like a hawk.”

The girls, behind the tough exterior that you all projected, giggled like schoolgirls at this primo gossip. Hell, who doesn’t love a little affair brewing in places that shouldn’t have them? If you can even call this an affair yet. After all, you both haven’t even bandied words, and wouldn’t get the chance to do so. Could it really be an affair if you both only exchanged looks here and there? When walking down the hall to your hideouts you both walked past each other and only locked eyes for a brief moment? When her hand would search yours in that brief moment and miss it?

It was an affair building up to explode soon, at the very least.

The remaining crews all stripped down to their swimsuits and gathered by the pool, enjoying their time in the freshwater and having a great time with one another. Rivalries were left outside to favor playfulness, getting to know each other and finding that you all were more alike than you thought. You would think that Bada would approach you on this resting day, but instead she watched you from afar as you emerged from the tumultuous warzone that was once called a pool. She watched for a while, too, while you and she played with others separately.

It was interesting, to say the least. Like you two were waiting to see which one would break first and approach the other. You didn’t mind this little game of cat and mouse, it made it all the more exciting. But you wouldn’t miss up an opportunity to tease.

More than once you sauntered close to Bada just to watch what she would do, watching how she seemingly stood and steadied herself for striking up a conversation only to watch you scurry away to tackle your real target into the water. Once you even got closer to her without realizing, and she seemed to notice and think for a second whether to talk to you or not, only for you to descend back into water and disappear from her line of sight. Then she caught on to the game, seemingly approaching you, then turning to a different direction, watching how you observed in anticipation.

Cat and mouse, cat and mouse.

Soon enough the aroma of cooked meat and fresh beer wafted to everyone’s nose, making most of the bodies in the pool return to land to share a cold one with their buddies. Bit by bit only few of you who were too energetic to sit down and eat remained in the water. You continued to swim by your lonesome, enjoying the feeling of being underwater and the peace of a nearly empty pool, but you wouldn’t be alone for long.

At one point you had touched the end of the pool for the third time and ascended to grab onto the edge, but instead a pair of long legs greeted you. Those pairs of legs squatted and revealed–.

“Ma’am, I’ve been asked to relay a message,” Bada spoke, semi jokingly, but telling the truth. “You shouldn’t swim so much without having eaten something.”

She looked so gorgeous up close, you could really just stare at her for hours if she’d let you. “Oh yeah? Are you a messenger or a bodyguard?”

Bada chuckled, adjusting her sunglasses before they fell off. “Both, but just this time.”

You placed both of your arms against the floor and rested your chin against your arm, looking up at this so-called bodyguard wearing such stylish shades. “You’re here to save me then?”

“Maybe,” Bada replied instantly, not looking away from you. It dawned on you then that perhaps the glasses were serving double purpose here, hiding her traveling gaze. There was a moment of silence before she realized that she actually had to tell you what the message was. “Your leader wants you to go eat with them, that’s all.”

You tilted your head and decided to be cheeky. “Aw, so you don’t care about my well being?”

“It’s not that,” Bada said while laughing, shaking her head. “I was worried about that too, they just told me to tell you on their behalf that’s all.”

You looked over at your group and watched them PRETEND to be focused on their conversation but you could tell that they were just applying the good old “Watermelon” to appear like they were actually talking fervently about something. You couldn’t help but to laugh. Still, you looked back at Bada who kept staring at you and wouldn’t stop. “So this isn’t you asking me to eat with you either?”

Bada seemed to think about it for a second, head tilted with curiosity. “Not yet,” she said simply, standing up and walking away. 

You could almost gasp at the boldness and suddenness. How cool of her to walk away like that! But you knew deep down inside it wasn’t something she wanted to do. It was… just appropriate to do at the moment, don’t you think?

When you finally arrived at your crew’s table, they were at the edge of their seats almost literally waiting to hear every little detail about the conversation, which you kept to yourself and promised to tell them later. They whined and tried to get you to spill the beans, but you opened the first bottle of beer and that was that.

You would unexpectedly encounter each other again. 

Your crew’s hideout was dark, all but one yellow light dimly lighting the room as you were sprawled on the couch resting. Your crew all had left the room for a multitude of reasons, but you remained there to catch up on some alone time for yourself. Just to think, to hear nothing, to enjoy your own company. 

Until the door unexpectedly opened without knocking and someone walked in. By the way they seemed familiar with the room, you assumed it was one of your members, but when you opened your eyes and sat up…

“Bada?” You asked instantly, without even thinking. 

Bada stood there, tossing a black bag on the nearest couch and fishing out something out of her pocket.

You weren’t getting any answers that way, so you stood up and walked up to her. “What are you–.”

Soon, music started blaring out of her phone, stopping you in your tracks. You couldn’t recognize the song at first, but you looked at the way the dim light showed her impassive face. No cap this time, her eyes clear to observe. Those eyes were hungry and determined.

Bada didn’t say a single word, putting her phone on the nearest table and wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against her body. You could barely let a tiny gasp out, caught on your throat as you looked up into her eyes. This time, unclouded, traveling down your nose, down your lips. You noticed her lean down just a bit, lips inches away from each other when she spoke lowly, as if to avoid being heard by anyone who would dare to walk down the hall right now.

“Dance with me?” 

You instinctively let your hand land on her shoulder, up her neck and cupping her cheek. “Not in a battle, I hope,” you lowly replied.

At this, she chuckled and shook her head. "Just you and I."

With that, your hand fell to her chest, feeling the way her heart was beating like crazy -- like she had already finished dancing ten times over. It made her so infinitely endearing. The cool girl everyone was crushing on, the tough Bada, mush under your palm and unable to stop her beating heart just like any other girl in the world. Bada noticed that you could feel it under your palm and she even gulped a little bit. “Look at you,” you softly said with a smile that shouted total fondness. Bada couldn’t say anything but give a soft giggle.

So, without another word, you and Bada began to move to the rhythm. Body against body, gazes connected in a way that could not be pried away so easily. Bada made sure to keep you close to her body as much as she could, but it wasn’t necessary. You yearned to be as close to her as you could, feeling so warm and safe close to her, and you had no intentions of moving away from her even if someone bursts through the door. 

And luckily, no one did. Especially as the heat started to rise. She turned you around, keeping you as close as she could have you, hands resting on your hips as she motioned you to grind against her own movements. Her grip was firm and electrifying, feeling the jolts travel up your spine and tentacle across your arms in goosebumps. As a response, you grinded harder against her and you could feel her labored breath hitched on her throat when you did, like it was a surprise how bold you got suddenly.

“You seriously don’t hesitate,” Bada growled lowly, almost stammering.

“Why would I when I got such a good, hot partner?” 

Those words seemed to please Bada, making her smirk and growing a little rougher and firm in her movements as well. You could only gasp, feeling now how your own breath got stuck in your throat. You both were one with the music at that moment and didn’t falter for a second, but you giggled a little and fanned yourself visibly before speaking.

“You’re a beast, Bada. Didn’t know you had this hidden inside of you,” one of your hands went back to caress her neck as you said that. “How much of that are you going to show me tonight?” You leaned back against her body, looking up at her and noticing that ferocious look on her face. It was a subtle, implicit request, coated with that thrill of getting caught. You wondered if Bada would accept such a thing, if she was–. 

“Everything,” Bada breathlessly said, desperate yearning and lust permeating every letter of the word. “I need you so badly right now,” she said with finality, her lips slowly inching closer to yours and you were so ready to feel just how soft those lips were. You were so ready to feel more of the way Bada’s hands were traveling down your body so hungrily. 

Chatting.

Lots of chatting down the hall, approaching agonizingly quick.

It brought you and Bada back to reality, making you both stop dead in your tracks. When it became certain that it was your crew approaching, you and Bada pulled away against your deepest desire to continue. Hell, you could even hear Bada whine at the loss, a small growl of frustration to follow. But she quickly composed herself, grabbed her phone and bag and merely sat down across from you on the couch. You understood and sat down as well, trying to stop yourself from breathing so hard just like Bada was trying to do. 

Despite the frustration, you both looked at each other and realized how silly this situation truly was. You both laughed, unintentionally making a previous conversation seem natural by the time your crew barged in and turned on the lights. You were hoping to god that they didn’t notice Bada’s flustered look when they saw her, watching Bada coolly get up, grab her things and apologize for being in their hideout without their permission. Her excuse was that she wanted to talk to you, just to get closer to one another, which wasn’t exactly a lie but not a lot of talking happened.

But when Bada left the room and the door closed behind her, your members all turned around to watch you with big grins.

God, now you had some explaining to do, huh? And you only hoped that you didn’t have to explain with details, because then you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about Bada.

[toto-the-cactus]

Hey Toto.

I discovered your headcanon with the primarchs as girl dad and gotta say, it breaths life into me to read. But it made me curious and wonder if you would do something similar, but with the legions? How they will act around the child and if there would be any heartwarming moments between the daughters and their brothers? To be honest I would die if you did that.

Cheers ^^

You ask and you shall receive, my good dude

-°-

Dark Angels

These people, in the general sense, are the very definition of strict discipline and unmoving soul. I don’t see these astartes being that incredibly cozy with the daughter of their Primarch and any ideas of that kind of interaction would even be perceived as a disrespect towards the demigod himself. This is more of a professional correlation tbf so I don’t even see the little girl of Lion associating the astartes as big brothers.

Emperor’s Children

To this bunch, the daughter of their estimated Primarch is nothing short of a fascination. Sure, they regard her with the same respect as they do with Fulgrim, but there’s also the amusement that comes when you see a child being both adorable and innocent. They entertain her when she wishes to spend time with someone while at the same time standing protectively around her. There’s no such thing as “big brothers” with them, but I can see an amicable relationship… probably similar to the one you may have with a friendly teacher: all fun and games but still a distinctive line separating you both.

Iron Warriors

No… just no. This one is easily self-explanatory.

White Scars

There’s both mutual respect and friendship. Even as a small child, these astartes consider the daughter of the great Khan as someone that deserves respect and guidance, but they are understandably aware that they aren’t any parent of the little girl to go around bossing or cozying her around, but if the sweet lady ask nicely if they wanna play with her, they wouldn’t hesitate to make a game into some sort of training for her since the Legion still feels like their Khan’s daughter needs to be prepared for anything to defend herself. While not ALL of the astartes may be perceived as big brothers, the closest to the Primarch probably can be considered close family.

Space Wolves

Now, we enter the real game. Like the others astartes, respect will be given to the daughter of Leman without question, but there's also that sense of camaraderie that extends too to the little pup. Roughhousing just like canines usually do to play with the younger ones is their best way to bond but imagine it with a huge astartes using a single hand with the fierce girl the same way you wrangle a cat’s head to play. Over all, they cherish the laughter of this sweet child and make sure to always be there to take care of her when their Primarch or the Mother aren’t able to (not like they would make it a habit, tho. No one should use the space marines as babysitters). I can see this precious girl calling a few of the astartes simply “Brothers” but mostly because she tries to imitate the Legion when they call each other.

Imperial Fists

We go back to square one with these guys. Just like the Dark Angels, you will not see any of these astartes being too familiar with the daughter of their Primarch. If anything, they simply KNOW that Dorn has a little girl born by his union with a baseline and accept her with the same loyal disposition they have to the demigod, but that’s it. One or two are ordered to guard the precious child? They will do it without question and limit it to just hovering close to the girl. They don’t engage in games unless Dorn or the Legion Mother tells them it's alright to do so. Overall, it's a professional sort of relationship despite the little girl always hearing the astartes refer to her papa as father too. Very confusing for her.

Night Lords

Hell to the no! They do know their Primarch has a daughter and THAT’S IT.

Blood Angels

It was kinda hard to think of a better explanation about the kind of familial relationship that existed between this astartes and the daughter of Sanguinius. The way I see it, this Legion has more of a devotee sort of disposition for the little lady just like with her father. If the precious child asks to play, the astartes will do so just because the idea of watching her pout and be sad about it makes their hearts wrench. Being called “big brother” by her is quite the honor since it means that you have been around guarding and accompanying the little girl so often that she recognizes you as family.

Iron Hands

These guys are… something indeed. Considering the kind of motto the tenth Legion possesses, I don’t think even Ferrus feels his daughter would be kindly received by his astartes just like it happened with his SO. It had been his past mentality of despising weakness that came back to bite him in the ass and now he can’t trust his gene-sons around his precious girl as she would be immediately rejected because of her baseline mother and overall weak appearance as a child. The only thing giving a single respite to everyone around is that these space marines have enough respect and loyalty to their Primarch that they wouldn’t dare to hurt or be mean to the little girl.

World Eaters

Louder for everyone in the background… HELL NO!!

Ultramarines

Probably the funniest reactions and acts out there when regarding the daughter of Roboute. They would act as if they forgot how babies/toddlers are supposed to be like DESPITE them having been children themselves at some point. The most common thing about them is that 1) they aren’t sure why their Primarch have debased himself to the most baseline act of them all: to have a child with a mere mortal too, to top it, and 2) what was the purpose to have a child if it wouldn’t be of an advantage to the Imperium. Don’t get it wrong, as time passes, they became more welcoming and cozy regarding the little girl, even feeling kind of excited when she starts to call them “big brothers” because that means that she recognizes them as family… just give them the chance and they will surprise you.

Death Guard

The stubborn little blorbos! So yeah, if we consider that eventually most of the Legion came from Barbarus after the coming of Mortarion, I can see them regarding the daughter of their Primarch with a certain amount of respect and amused curiosity. Children aren’t an unknown to them but the little girl is quite the opposite of the Primarch and watching her being all happy and cheery beside her intimidating father makes a contrast that would entertain anyone so I can see this Legion being similar (surprisingly!) to how the Emperor’s Children Legion treat the daughter of their Primarch too: They would protect her without question and still be amicable enough for the precious kid to regard them as her friends too.

Thousand Sons

If Magnus isn’t around, then you can bet that the astartes of this Legion will love to be around a kid who asks them about any fun fact they know. They find the daughter of their Primarch a delight to have around and quite adorable, not hesitating to entertain her while either her mother or father find her. Probably the easiest of the Legions that get called in a single breath “big brothers” by the precious princess of Prospero.

Luna Wolves

This one is a weird mix between the Ultramarines and the Thousand Sons: they are baffled and confused as to why their Primarch has stooped to such mortal acts like bedding a baseline human and be tied to her. Despite their reservations, once the little lady is born, all around thoughts change. Horus' daughter has the same charm of her father and knows how to wield it with these astartes, but since she also wishes to be a good daughter too, you won’t see her taking advantage of her position. If some of her “big brothers” aren’t too busy, she’ll ask nicely if they wish to play with her or to simply make her company at which they won’t deny her and do so gladly.

Word Bearers

Ho boy, these dudes are their own kind a'ight. They cherish and celebrate the daughter of Lorgar as a miracle that must be adored. Similar to the Blood Angels, I see these fun fellas being more like devotees to the image they think this little girl represents so, rather than being perceived as “big brothers”, they are more like those guards that follow the precious princess around whenever her parents aren’t around. If they engage in any game with this child, they accept mostly out of duty than actually wishing to make her happy.

Salamanders

These boys are the excellency among them all! They are the most humane among the rest of the Legions and show it by being the best “big brothers” all around. Vulkan would encourage both his astartes and his child to regard each other as siblings, so it isn’t hard to imagine the little girl easily knowing the name of all her brothers and even going to the lengths of recognizing them by only their voices. To these big guys, making the daughter of their Primarch laugh loudly is the biggest of feats just behind their duty as warriors to the Imperium.

Raven Guard

It’s hard to pinpoint the kind of feelings these guys may feel regarding the daughter of their Primarch but I can see them at least being quite warm towards her, engaging in games of hide and seek and sometimes giving her trinkets they “found around” as a token of respect. They would act surprised each time the little birdie jumped on them to scare them with a loud “gotchu!” but it’s hard for me to think that the daughter of Corvus would call the astartes “Big Brothers” when they aren’t extremely close.

Alpha Legion

Everyone is Papa… no hesitation there. The daughter of Alpharius/Omegon will be respected and loved by all the Legion with no questions asked since all of them are her “father”.

-°-

Hope this was of your liking, dude!

[calisources]

𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this memes are taken from different sources of literature, television and media about enemies to lovers trope and enemies and lovers trope with some angst thrown into the mix. Change pronouns, names and locations as you see fit.

Does it hurt? Loving someone who can’t love you back?

Break his crown, break his throne, rip his monarchy apart.

What are we doing?

You are capable of making my blood boil like no one else, and yet I feel a magnetic pull I cannot explain.

It’s not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand

Like whether you should kiss me or punch me.

Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.

You make me feel things that shouldn’t exist. 

Whatever this is, we should stop. I have been. . .compromised.

There’s a fine line between love and hate, and maybe we crossed it a long time ago.

I never thought I could detest someone so much, until the day I realized I was falling in love with you.

We may fight like enemies, but deep down, we both know that our hearts beat for each other.

You infuriate me, challenge me, drive me crazy, but damn it, at the end of the day, I can’t resist you.

It’s that tension that makes this so irresistible.

You’re like an addiction I can’t break free from, even if I wanted to.

You’re the thorn in my side, the fire in my veins, and I can’t help but crave your presence in my life.

Loving you feels like a dangerous game.

You infuriate me, yet you’re the only one who truly understands me.

You scare me to my core.

There’s no denying the fire that burns between us.

If any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies.

I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other.

Tell me you don’t feel this between us. Look at me and don’t look away while saying it.

You claim me your enemy and yet, let me crawl into your bed every night.

You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires.

Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you.

I did not asked for this. To be plagued by these feelings.

I tried to deny it for so long, but I don’t want to anymore.

Follow me around. Look at me as if you find me fascinating. Touch me, and say nice things to me. And then, you pull away as if you did nothing at all.

There’s no need for these games.

Well, you know that old saying, “Keep your friends close and make out with your enemies.

You read me wrong.  I wasn't trying to lead you on.

Is that all I am to you? A resource to be used in your scheme?

Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything more than you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time. But I just- I can't do it tonight, okay?

 You'll lay a man out for implying I'm a whore, but you keep calling me one to my face.

So, the only man that can have you is one who's already tried to kill you. That's logic.

It's like a little death. Several, in fact.

Oh Max, if you really hated Kyle you couldn't have slept with him.

So go on... kiss me... kill me... Do something.

I've often wondered what this moment would be like. Me... you tied up. 

Once this is over, we should really have angry sex.

Hate and love are not so very different things. Both are focused upon another. Both are intense. Both are passionate.

It just means you'd rather be with someone you hate... than be with me.

She's difficult and irritating, and she tries to hit me all the time.

We have a deal, what are you so afraid of?

Only I can hurt you this way. Only I can kiss you like this. 

You dragged me down and now I can’t quit you. 

This is the last time we do this.

Last night was also the last time. And yet, you keep coming back.

Better my mouth than my knife, right?

[myanmardoesnotexist]

Analysis of Why Valentino Cares So Much

So, I know I write a lot of fanfiction, but perhaps my favorite thing about Rosquez is the psychology of Valentino, specifically his bizarre fascination with Marc (This is outside of shipping goggles btw). As the years go on, this fixation with one specific rivalry has become increasingly more clear, and I kind of just wanted to dive into why I believe Valentino Rossi cares so much.

To me, it comes down to two things:

#1: Marc was the first to really win (in Valentino's eyes)

With Stoner, Lorenzo, and Sete it was a rivalry for sure, and there was anger, but Valentino seemed to view it as sort of a game he could control. And he did control it, he came out the victor both to the public and on track. When they eventually got over their rivalries years later, it was Valentino being a 'benevolent king' with the vibe of sparing his enemy. Even if they beat him in the championship, ultimately Valentino won the game of relevance and importance in MotoGP. With Marc it was slightly different. Valentino got the entire racing world to turn against Marc (in a way he never had before with other rivals), and yet somehow it didn’t work. Marc kept on winning, he brushed off the hate, and he’s well on his way to matching Valentino is championships next year. Even if Marc's reputation never recovered, even if we know that Marc was very hurt by this, none of it matters because he is the more relevant one now. Marc is still riding, is on the currently best team (a team that Valentino failed to bring a championship to) and each year more and more people view him in a better light.

On top of that, Marc's name is up there with Valentino's as one of the legends in MotoGP history. Stoner, Sete, and Lorenzo are all brilliant drivers and some of the greats, but that top list is Agostini, Doohan, Rossi, and Marquez. Valentino is arguably still more legendary than Marc, but he will never be able to escape from the younger man. Their names are up there together forever, and to Valentino that is a first with a rival. He cannot look at any of it and say that he won, so it must mean he lost.

#2 Marc was the first to actually hurt him personally.

With Marc he clearly felt in some way personally betrayed. He liked Marc, this is almost undeniable. He was proud of him, he cheered him on, they hung out, honestly Marc was almost an unofficial VR46 student with the way their relationship was in those early days. Yes, Marc represented a passing of the torch, but Valentino almost seemed okay with it at that point. Until he became competitive again and found out that Marc doesn't just look up to him or admire him, but wants to beat him, point blank, and will ride on the limit to do that. This came in 2014, but honestly I don't think is was as prominent because Marc had such a dominant season it was hardly a real fight. 2015 though, it was Valentino really fighting for the title. And he probably expected Marc to bend the knee, to be on his side. Maybe not help him, but not impede him in any way. But they had their friction throughout the year, and the fact that Marc was racing him just as hard as he races everyone else got into Valentino's head. Because Marc was supposed to be on his side. So if he's not, he must be against Valentino and for Jorge Lorenzo. There is no in between.

So he lashed out, he let paranoia hit him, and yet somehow he still didn't get satisfaction. Because even though he did his best to hurt Marc, the other man barely seemed to flinch (which we all know isn't true, but to Valentino I think it is). And that would be particularly rough, because it would mean Marc didn't care. That all of that friendship was one-sided on Valentino's part, that he was the one used, which to someone like him, who always has control, would be new and very very uncomfortable. And so he created this narrative that Marc never liked him, Marc never looked up to him, everything was a lie and a manipulation, and he is a villain with no heart. Because I think to Valentino it is impossible to even act like he doesn't still care. So if Marc can do that, it must mean all of it was fake.

To me these two reasons are why Valentino can't seem to let go of this one particular rivalry, and seems so viciously angry about it ten years after the biggest incident happened. His crazy brain fascinates me, and even if you look at it through a purely platonic, non-shipper lens, its one of the most interesting relationships in MotoGP.