#do any books focus on him and explore more of his life? or will i have to take this into my own hands

[annawayne]

Hi, Anna! I was wondering for some small opinion and possibly suggestions to do with AruAni, mainly their names! In my opinion, I like to imagine Annie's name is actually "Annabelle", though she's never said it to anyone, ever, having the name everyone is more used to be the one that everyone calls her. Though, it would be fun if she slipped up and then have Armin, the adorable nuisance he is, start calling her Anaya, Arianna, etc - as he tries figuring out her full name. Bit silly, but fun stuff! And I was wondering, if you ever had thought of that, or the possibility of them having middle names, since I don't believe many have spoken about that and you're very creative when it comes to that! Have a lovely day, Toodle-oo!

Hello-hello!~

Oh, thank you a lot for asking this! I'm a huge fan of the whole name topic in general, and I think it's a significant topic for such characters as Armin and Annie. I can tell that I'll touch on this topic a bit in the next MYLYSW chapter with my attempts to explore Annie's past in Liberio, so you just HIT ✨the spot✨

I adore the exploration of all of it, so let's begin!

First of all, I want to say that despite everything, I really love the way both Annie Leonhardt and Armin Arlert sound: Annie's full name sounds, first, like a sigh, with the double ringing 'n,' only to flow into quite firm combinations of sounds, with the same respite right in the middle; Armin's name gives me a very metallic sound with a harsh and resonating tune.

I really love how their names sing, and we can explore many of their meanings. However, I want to focus more on the origins - not the meaning and roots of their names, but how they were given and what they meant for them.

We know that Armin's name is given by his grandfather. However, it's also quite an interesting moment for me since parents usually give the name to a child, and his parents disappeared much later when Armin wasn't a newborn. Probably, it's more like Grandpa Arlert was there from the very early time of Armin's childhood, and so he has this honor to give a name for his grandson (we skip here a theory that Armin was an unwanted child who was more of an "accident" rather a desired and planned child, who "stole" from his parents their dreams to fly away - it's a big topic and theory, and I would love to focus on other aspects this time since otherwise it would lead into long essay).

So, Armin, despite losing all his family at a very young age, has a personal connection to his name - he knows that this name wasn't an "accident" or "casually thrown" into him like a label. This name has old Germanic, Latin, and Persian roots, "a Warrior," "a Fighter," and also "goal" and "universal," which all fall into Armin's life path - he fights for the right to appreciate the whole world, even if it's not the one he has read in his book. However, with time, I think he starts to hate this name as his self-hatred grows as well, associating this combination of letters with the downfall and problems (in his opinion) he has caused since often his name was screamed in anguish and fear, or despair. Still, Armin, despite anything, knows his real name, which he learns to embrace and live up to. He knows this name is given with the love and warmth of his grandpa.

But what about Annie? We know that she was found by Mr Leonhardt on the street near the rich-looking mansion and that she has a biological Marleayn mother and Eldian father. Then, she was adopted by Mr Leonhardt (it's also interesting that we don't have any name for him throughout the whole series, which also gives me several ideas, but it's also for another time). Probably, Mr Leonhardt gave her this name by the logic "it sounds simple and doesn't show any relation to her possible noble blood by mother's line", which gives me an actual idea, based on your ask: what if Annie's name, given by her biological parents, was indeed something like Annabelle, Annette or Annalise (or any other form), which sounds more like "noble," rather than Annie, which directly shows her relation to some high-class Marleyan society?

We have not to forget that Marley - is an empire. Any empire does everything to erase any relations to the authentic roots of the people it colonized, and changing names/surnames - is one of these very well-known practices, since when you took the name from a person, you also took the part of their identity and ethnical background to make the person "fit" within the empire as their own, and yet, this is only to play a role of "generosity," when in reality people from colonized territories always won't be equal - the citizens of any metropole look down at them.

I think this happened to Mr. Leonhardt, who in reality isn't Mr. Leonhardt at all but was given this very Germanic surname, which aligns pretty much well with Marleyan traditions. So, the same might probably happen to Annie - maybe when he found her, there was a small card or note with her full name, but when he read "Annabelle/ Annette/Annalise" (or anything similar), he decided that with this name she wouldn't survive in the internment zone with such "noble" name, and simplified it to "Annie," both as an act of erasing any roots for her to start questioning her background and also of an act of owning - just like the empire did to him when he was shipped to internment zone. Just like Edward Said in one of his works, "There is nothing mysterious or natural about authority. It is formed, irradiated, disseminated; it is instrumental, it is persuasive; it has status; it establishes canons of taste and value; it is virtually indistinguishable from certain ideas it dignifies as true and from traditions, perceptions, and judgments it forms, transmits, reproduces."

There's really nothing mysterious. A plain act of cutting the roots, replacing it with himself - no wonder that Annie, on the day of her departure to Paradis, felt such a strong connection with the words her father said to her. It was not only a first showcase of care and love (which I highly doubt of its genuinity, and I don't think any of these words were towards Annie, but only to whitewash his ego), but also the attempt to keep her in his claws - like any empire does to its colonies by erasing everything and replacing with what is comfortable and needed for it to make it looks like the colony is incapable of living without it. I honestly have no questions why for Annie it was all her sole goal - to return to him. I swear, I will always defend Annie and try to highlight the whole complexity of her character.

So, I think, if it really happened at some point in history, then, after the Rumbling, when everything settles down a bit, Mr . Leonhardt confesses that Annie's full name is different (personally, if you would ask me, I really love Annette). For her, it's a huge shock because she realizes where it comes from.

I think it becomes a pretty sensitive topic for her - she would immediately dismiss it, however, she would understand with time passing that this name is hers and isn't hers at the same time since she has no association, no history with it, no attachments, and it also provokes some inner conflict she tries to ignore.

But Armin would notice, and eventually, she would tell him, however, it takes a long time, firstly, for Annie to embrace it as a part of her she has never known, but it's the only thing her parents left for her, aside her birth, and even longer - for Annie accepting it as an alternative - not a replacement - to her name.

I think Armin would be cautious with this, and the first time he calls Annie "Nettie", she would be a bit in shock - but more of the fact that this part of her is also loved and embraced by him. It would never replace Annie from his lips, the way she knows how he sighs it and how his tongue pushes this double "n" in her name only to string it with the mellow tune of "e," but she thinks that "Nettie" also deserves some love - the one Annette never had, denied almost immediately after her birth, but, maybe with him, Annette could learn it, too.

As for the middle names, I'm familiar with them, of course, but this concept is so rare in my country that this whole thing just doesn't appear too much in my head. But we instead have patronyms, and I also thought of all of it, and it just makes me quite sad since if Armin and Annie had patronyms tradition, it would remind them so much of their fathers... Who, well, let's be honest, both left quite a lot of angst in their lives, even if in different ways.

Oh, well... maybe you expected another answer and a more fluffy one, but sorry, I went into the angsty depths of some meta and headcanons :D

If anyone reached the end, thank you so much! I appreciate your time spent on it!

Thank you once again for asking, I enjoyed answering it a lot!

Have a wonderful *timezone* (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

[cipher-fresh]

Society if Hikaru Sulu had character depth

[lobster-risotto]

I never get on here and share my little writings or anything so, here, have some Astarion headcanons. SFW

Astarion is his softest right after he's fed. His mouth is still stained with blood and his body is thrumming with taken life, but he always stays close, hands sliding over his lover's body without any intent except for exploration. Pure intimacy.

His hands are warm only right after a large meal, but slightly rough from his blade and bow forming light calluses on his skin that never seem to go away.

Astarion loves to pick play fights. He likes the banter, the back and forth. It's playful and harmless and in some way, it makes him feel secure.

After the loss of the tadpole removing his access to sunlight, he loves being near fire. If he can't be found, look for the nearest fireplace and generally, you'll find him there, book in hand and wine glass filled to the brim.

Sometimes, Astarion watches his lover sleep. It might be weird to some people, but Astarion doesn't care. This person changed him entirely, made him feel things he forgot he could. Made him feel safe. There's nothing he'd rather look at when he's restless.

Astarion has a tendency to lose focus on what matters most. He definitely has a self-serving personality, and makes a great effort to keep in mind that he's not the only person he needs to look out for. Even after a few decades, he still catches himself making decisions without his lover--but he catches himself by then, and changes his behavior. They give him that respect, it's the least he can do to return such a favor.

Astarion can be rough--likes to be even. Sparring, too-tight hugs, little nips during kisses just to hear his partner laugh. But when Astarion chooses to be gentle, he treats his lover as if they are made of the thinnest glass. He brushes their cheek with the backs of his knuckles, delicately run his fingers tips along their ear. His voice becomes quiet and velvety, whispering, "I love you. I've stolen things beyond any nameable value, but your heart, darling, is the only priceless thing I've had the honor of holding."

NSFW

Astarion finds that he likes a balance when it comes to sex. Roughness is matched with words of love and growled demands for more and passion. He adores the sound of his lover receiving pleasure, and more so, he loves when they reciprocate.

Astarion doesn't always initiate, and makes it clear he doesn't always want to once he becomes more comfortable. He likes feeling wanted by his partner. He likes feeling as if their attention lies nowhere but him.

He's a man of many talents of course, but sometimes, he gets flustered by it all. Letting his lover enjoy themselves, and he gets to enjoy it too, is his favorite thing. Sometimes, the sight of them flushed and breathing heavy and moaning out his name has him sputtering for a moment until he catches his bearings.

It's all so new, when he first has sex with someone for no reason other than wanting to. The feeling of their body is not only arousing, but it's comforting. It's right and Astarion realizes, perhaps, that what had always been missing was connection.

I certainly have more but this is just some I've thought of c:

[arcanarix]

Fated Divergence, Ch. 5 // Yandere! Suguru Geto X Non-Sorcerer Darling

AO3 (+prev. chapter)

cw // shower sex, anal sex, cunnilingus, vibrators, in general geto being unhinged ;D

Word Count: around 4.4K

“Is that the last of them?”

Satoru’s head jerked to Maki, the one who asked the question and who exorcised some second grade curses within the secluded area. He scanned the environment, not catching any more surges of activity.

For now.

“I think that’s all we got,” he replied, signaling Inumaki and Panda to come forward. “We can wrap this up and I can take you guys back home.”

Maki, Panda, and Inumaki exchanged glances before looking up at Satoru with hopeful looks in their eyes. Ah, Satoru knew those looks, and he wasn’t about to deny them whatever they were about to ask—within reason, of course, and for someone like Satoru? Nearly everything was ‘within reason’ for him to make happen.

“Why don’t we stay and enjoy New York for a bit?” Maki inquired, adjusting her glasses. “We have some time, you know.”

“Salmon,” Inumaki stated.

Satoru still didn’t know what any of those ingredients translated to…

“Fine, fine,” he waved them off. “Might give me some time to do a little light reading, then, while you’re off exploring. But our flight’s in two days. So it’s best we regroup tomorrow and pack and all that.”

Maki glanced at the book stuffed in Satoru’s tote.

“The Ethics of Ambiguity? That’s a feminist text,” she recognized with a perk of an eyebrow. “I didn’t even think you would be into that kind of thing, Sensei.”

“Or that you even read,” Panda pointed out in jest, which provoked a snort from Maki.

Gojo paused, ignoring Panda’s comment and glancing down at his tote. “Aw, that. Yeah, uh, someone I rescued not too long ago lent me that book. Why, what’s the topic?”

“Existential philosophy,” she explained. “Discusses some stuff about how human existence itself is ambiguous and how humanity is both free and bound by their circumstances.”

Gojo gave her a blank stare.

“Ah,” he began, scratching the back of his head. “Was always more of a ‘do before you think’ kind of guy…”

Maki bit back a groan, irritation etched on her face.

“That flew right over your head, didn’t it?”

“Absolutely, it did,” Gojo laughed, adjusting his posture.

Maki groaned, clutching her head. “And how are you a Sensei?”

Gojo’s laugh rang like bells, while he rested a hand on her head, and patting her hair. Maki shot him a glare, unaware of the nervous tick because Gojo seemed to be lost in thought of you—nothing the students knew about just yet.

“Why don’t you guys go and have fun? Try some American cuisine and grab some souvenirs! I have some things I need to take care of right now.”

As the team dispersed, Satoru whipped out his phone and opened your text thread.

No responses. Usually you weren’t bad about replying (yet another refreshing thing about you), but he didn’t hear from you for a few days…

A bad feeling began to pool in his gut, but he had to put it aside for now. He took a moment to ground himself, to focus on what was in front of him and not on why you weren’t responding even if it, likely, Geto was the culprit. He glanced once again at the book you gave him in his tote, and then eyed some nearby cafes, and decided where he would do that ‘light reading’ he promised himself he would do.

After all, this might provide some insight into how you thought.

Once he ordered himself a matcha (too sweet, even for his tastes…did Americans really consume that much sugar?), he flipped to the first page of the book, hoping to get some kind of insight on your philosophies regarding your life.

In a peculiar way, it brought him closer to you.

-- --- --- --- --- ---

“Wake up, my love.”

As you blinked the weariness from your eyes, the scent of home-cooked fluffy pancakes and other assortments of breakfast foods flooded your senses. Instinctively your mouth watered, desperate for food; you hadn’t realized how starved you were because of how frightened you had been.

“Ah! There she is,” Suguru greeted with a little smirk as he presented to you a large tray of your breakfast. “I had this made special.”

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, swiping the bowl of hash browns seasoned to perfection and mixed with egg whites and freshly harvested vegetables.

“You’ll need your strength,” he responded, as he sat across from you, his gaze fixated on you. “I have much planned for us both.”

You disregarded his words and his presence for the moment, scarfing down as much food as you could in one sitting. You requested time to freshen up for the morning, and he graciously offered to unshackle you under the conditions that you wouldn’t run off.

“Not that you could,” Geto then added as he escorted you to the nearest restroom, a follower of his offering you the necessary toiletries. “Every floor and every exit are heavily guarded.”

Of course, you thought, your mind steeped in sarcasm. I would be stupid to try, knowing what he was capable of…what he wasn’t afraid to do.

“Geto!” called one of the twins, Nanako, as you focused on the mundane task of brushing your teeth, determined to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the madness which surrounded you.

Even the term ‘madness’ put the situation in lighter terms…

“Ah, good morning, girls,” Geto greeted as he stood outside the restroom door, waiting for you to finish freshening up. Nanako and Mimiko ran up to hug him, and you would have smiled at the sight if not for everything.

“She’s here!” Mimiko pointed out with a wide grin, waving excitedly. You waved back when you caught her reflection through the mirror.

“Suguru, I will need some privacy,” you requested in a honeyed sweet tone. “I need a shower, and perhaps a change of clothes?”

Geto narrowed his eyes, before glancing down at the twins. “Could one of you bring her a robe and a change of clothes? Oh, and perhaps those shower steamers you two have begun to use. It might calm her nerves from being here a bit.”

Fucking. Asshole.

As Nanako and Mimiko ran off to fetch your things, Geto approached you in the restroom, closing the door behind him with a deliberate motion.

A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed.

“You won’t find respite from me so easily,” he warned. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? I’ve seen you already at your most vulnerable.”

Before you could retort, moments later, Mimiko knocked on the door and delivered your necessities. Geto thanked her and dismissed the twins.

You froze, breath caught in your throat as he placed them inside for you. You noticed—your preferred shampoo, conditioner, bar soap, body wash. Even the very face exfoliator you used, a gua sha tool, an African net sponge…

Things he shouldn’t know about you, but somehow, he did…? Should this really surprise you anymore?

And those shower steamers. Lavender and eucalyptus. Perfect scents for calming anxiety and nerves…

“Suguru,” you began, ignoring the tremor in your voice when you addressed him. “There’s nowhere for me to go; you don’t have to stand guard while I shower.”

“Oh, but I must,” he insisted, hand over his heart in mock sincerity. “After all, what kind of partner would I be to you if I’m not here to make sure you’re safe?”

You said nothing as you stepped into the shower, waiting for the water to preheat…

And you heard the wisp of some clothing falling to the ground. You stilled.

Of course he’d be joining you.

You said nothing as he slipped inside behind you, shutting the shower door. You said nothing as he brought you in close, wincing as his hardness pressed against your thigh.

“A Queen need not undertake these tasks on her own.”

“But I can do these things myself,” you countered, tone firm and full of conviction, which Suguru laughed at in a mocking way, as if your actions possessed little consequence.

Which was likely the truth.

It likely didn’t matter anymore, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t damn well try to gain some independence in this situation.

“I know,” he interjected, a curious tone of affection in his voice—likely because he finally had you right where he wanted you, all of this time, at long last. “But I want to take care of you.”

You chose not to pursue the matter any further, as Geto emulsified the shampoo in his hands and worked it into your hair. You ignored his words when he complimented how soft it was, and how it made your stomach churn once more. He kept it thorough, doing a second pass before moving onto conditioner. He even memorized your self-care routine practically down to an art. You snuck a few glances, and his expression…the softness in his violet eyes, how his face relaxed around you…like he seemed honored to do this for you, like he revered you as his Queen ruling by his side, like he saw you as, you couldn’t believe it, family.

But you knew better. You weren’t any Queen. Not truly. Just his prisoner. His pretty little pet. Someone to keep secured around his arms as an accessory while he condemned humans to a cruel fate.

You were someone who couldn’t fight him back, which probably gave him the most pay-off in whatever this grand scheme of his might be. You still weren’t sure what he went on about, about jujutsu sorcerers, about calling ‘humans’ or ‘non-sorcerers’ monkeys. To anyone with a modicum of logic, this man just sounded like he belonged to an asylum or under a strict conservatorship… but if there truly was some truth to whatever spiritual whoo whoo shit he’d been spewing, then did that mean Gojo’d been lying through his teeth about what he truly did for a living as well?

Soon Geto moved onto rinse you off of all of that grime, your senses flooded with a hint of vanilla from the body wash. He paused, taking a moment to admire the curve of your ass and giving a gentle squeeze to the flesh, eliciting a shocked yelp out of you. His chuckle in approval grated on your nerves.

“You are beautiful,” he purred, kissing heatedly into your neck. As he finished taking care of washing himself, he returned his attention on you, pressing your back into the marble walls of the shower and pinning you with his hands on either side of your head, as he peppered open-mouth kisses along your jaw. Gentle, loving…like a real partner.

Disgust gnawed at your chest at the mere idea—the notion itself, repulsive.

As much as you loathed to admit it, the shower steamers were great to relieve the tension you knew you were holding far too tightly given your circumstances. You focused on your breathing and not so much on who tended to you, gentle and tender like a genuine lover.

One of his fingers drew light patterns along the swells of your breasts, and your breath hitched.

“Oh, hit a nerve, didn’t I?” he taunted, tone drenched and heavy in mockery, much akin to the steam that now fogged the air between the two of you. “Is this where you’re weak?”

“Don’t,” you pleaded, daring to meet his piercing eyes with your timid ones.

He flicked a finger against one of your stiff peaks, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips against your will, gritting your teeth from the sensation.

He called your name, in a voice that was almost a soft, affectionate purr.

“When was the last time a man properly touched you?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question at all, words caught in your throat, and from the bottom of your heart, you didn’t want to answer him.

He frowned, his forehead creasing, frustration mounting by the minute as he pinched your nipple once again.

“I still want an answer,” he pressed with his tone laden in condescension.

“Not since…” you trailed off, your voice faltering as you choked on a sob, his both his hands grasped your breasts, groaning at the softness and suppleness of your skin against his calloused hands. You could even feel his fingertips had pruned up from how long you’d been in the shower already.

“Not since college,” you rasped out. Geto tutted at that new tidbit of information, even seemed shocked that a beautiful thing like you didn’t get laid on the regular. Or maybe it pleased him to know that you were pickier with your lovers, whoever you chose to give a little piece of yourself away.

“Did the man have any skill, or was he as inept as the rest of those monkeys?”

Did he expect you to answer that?

He addressed your name once again, growing impatient by the nanosecond.

“No,” you answered, in your most earnest way. “It…sucked.”

Geto clicked his tongue, like he pitied your lack of true connection between bodies. “How expected. You do need a proper lover. Tell me, did I meet your expectations that night?”

You stood frozen, peering up with him with beady eyes, but his resolve didn’t appear to crumble any time soon.

“That night…shouldn’t have happened. It was only because you could stop the streak of bad luck I had,” you recalled, your mind flashing to that night when he stole you. You wished you had alternatives, but what did you know about the world Geto kept spewing about?

He conceded to that with a hum, and with something else…a hint of something you missed yourself, but you didn’t care to make a remark.

“But you enjoyed yourself as much as I did,” he declared with certainty that made your blood boil, bony hands sliding down waist and resting at your hips, where he gripped tight. “I could tell you did. It is better if you admit it to yourself. I want it to be good for us both, my love.”

A hand ventured to your most intimate region, and you feared the worst, squeezing your eyes shut as his finger flicked along your slick folds before prying them apart, another finger grazing your clit. Another sharp gasp escaped your lips, and he sighed in glee, pleased to see you give into his ministrations.

He paused for a few moments too long, and you willed yourself not to look. Not that you could. He turned you around to face the wall, prying your legs apart as he rubbed his erect cock between your cheeks, stopping at the tight ring of your—

“—No!” you wept, scratching along the tiles to no avail. He trapped you in place, the tip of his cock catching into the tight ring of muscle.

He growled your name in a disapproving way.

“Relax into it,” he demanded, inching more of his length inside of your ass, pressing kisses to your shoulder blades. “Breathe, love, breathe. Let this be good for us both.”

You sobbed, his body pressing into you as each buck of his hips became sharper, more precise, his length and girth rubbing your walls in the right way which felt like the worst punishment…

“Fuck,” he groaned, resting his forehead on the crook of your neck as he resumed a harsh pace. “You’re made to take my cock. Feel how your ass just sucks me in each time. I don’t even have to try.”

“Please,” you practically wailed like a warning siren, begging, not knowing why you were begging because he would take what he desired from you no matter what. “Suguru—!”

Despite the shame pooling in your stomach, you came, clenching tight around his cock and wincing as he continued to fuck into you until the shock subsided.

“There will be more to come,” he vowed as he pulled himself out. He allowed the two of you to stand in the shower for a few moments longer to wash away the residue of your shared fun time, before he escorted you out, dried himself and yourself off, and dressed you both in robes.

You admired the softness of the robe he chose for you, at the very least. Despite your body still trembling, he led you out of the restroom and back to your chamber, which you had come to find out was the basement of the temple, and just across your prison appeared to be his bedroom.

“It doesn’t seem right to let you remain in this room,” he uttered, eyes fixed on you. “Provided you behave, of course, you can stay in my bedroom.”

You nodded, your face blanched from disgust, as your fingers dug into the fabric of your robe, seeking some kind of solace.

“Now, now,” he then tutted as he approached you, drawing you in close. “We can’t have any of that. Not when our new lives together are just beginning.”

“Geto!” Nanako interrupted the moment once more, and you swallowed any feelings of despair in that moment.

Appear normal for the girls.

“Can she come play Mario Kart with us? We need another player, and you never like playing video games!”

Geto chuckled as he kept you close, tightening his grip around your waist.

“She may need some time to adjust, Nanako.” He tried to let her down gently—in other words, he tried to make it so he didn’t intend on sharing your attention with anyone else, even his girls. “We can have a family game night later in the week, perhaps. Once she’s gotten used to us, don’t you think?”

Nanako pouted and folded her arms over her chest. “Come on, Geto! We want to get to know our new mom!”

You gawked at him. A mother? You? Hardly—you didn’t have the mother gene in you, or so you convinced yourself that. Plus you were far too wrapped up in a profession which hardly paid you enough to run a family.

You never even met the right partner, and Geto certainly wasn’t the proper fit.

“Nanako!” he chastised, his tone stern. “She needs time. Let us have time for ourselves, and then she can play those rotten video games with you, alright? Look at her. Does she look ready to adjust to this new life with us?”

Nanako glanced at you, and then back at Geto, shaking her head.

“Smart girl,” he commented. “Perhaps you can get one of my assistants to be your final player for now.”

Nanako deflated, clearly disappointed. “Alright…”

She exited the room. Your prison.

“I’m sorry.” It didn’t take a genius to know he definitely didn’t seem sorry in the slightest.  “Let me take you to my room, just this way. You can rest there, and hopefully not be interrupted by my rambunctious twins again.”

Had you not known the kind of man he was, his sentiments toward his girls would have warmed your stone cold heart.

He led you to his bed. King-sized, plush, like feathers as he rested you on your back. He snuggled close to you, nuzzling his nose into his neck and inhaling that fresh scent of vanilla bean and caramel, letting out a sigh in content.

“This is your home now, so treat it as your home,” he stated, hugging you even more inhumanely close. “I want you to be happy with us. Nanako and Mimiko already adore you.”

You remained silent, eyes diverted to the ceiling as your mind swam with thoughts—could you get out of here? Would Gojo know immediately if something had happened? How could this happen so quickly?

“Do speak to me,” he murmured into your ear before kissing it. “It’ll make things easier for you.”

“Please don’t insult me,” you sneered. “You want me to be a mother to your girls.”

“That’s…part of it, yes,” he acknowledged with a hum. “They need one. Someone strong, someone spirited, someone…human.”

“What became of their biological family?” you dared to ask.

“Dead,” came his simple answer.

You arched an eyebrow.

“By your hands?”

“…No, not quite. Those monkeys killed their parents, and they intended to kill them as well, when they were just children,” he replied, tone laden in bitterness as he recalled the memory. “So I did what I had to do and cursed that village. Filthy monkeys who don’t understand what it means to be a jujutsu sorcerer, to be sworn to protect the filth, rather than eradicate it, burn it to ashes…it’s asinine, truly.”

This bullshit about jujutsu sorcery is what’s asinine, you thought, as another moment of clarity came through that Geto admitted he committed genocides in the name of his cause, whatever it was. Geto truly is a dangerous man.

“You keep bringing that up,” you pointed out. “Jujutsu sorcery. What is that? Is that what you do? Is that how you can…see things?”

He nodded, expression grim. “You will learn everything you need to, in due time. I’m surprised Satoru hasn’t informed you of anything, but then again, the organization is sworn to secrecy. Humans are simple creatures…unevolved creatures, you see. They don’t like knowing that there is something out there more powerful than them. They condemn anything they don’t agree with, just like they condemned me, condemned the twins, and others like us.” He looked away. “If only Satoru agreed with my vision, then maybe we would still be as close as we once were. What a shame.”

So…Gojo hasn’t been wholly truthful about what he did, then?

You knew that you weren’t sure how to respond to that.

“Gojo told me nothing about these things,” you conceded, “So I guess I will have to hear the truth from you.”

“In due time,” he vowed with a low purr, as he slid down until he reached between your thighs, spreading them apart.

You winced. “Suguru, please, I…!”

He shushed you as he kissed along either side of your thighs, until he stopped at your cunt, blocked by your fresh new underwear. He pulled it aside, revealing your dripping folds.

“I want to revisit that night,” he asserted, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin. “When I made you come three times. You sounded wonderful. Maybe I can do more than that. Show you how a man should touch you especially if your previous encounters were as disappointing as you claimed.”

He nipped on the skin closest to your pussy.

“You are so perfect for me.”

Geto closed his mouth over your cunt and you couldn’t even react.

He sucked hard on your clit, tongue darting out and licking along and between your folds.

“Suguru—!”

Your hand reached to clutch the crown of his head. He moaned, lewd and like he starved for you.

He coaxed one.

He focused his attention on your clit, tongue twirling around the little bud, making you see stars. You hated this so much, yet he made it feel good, like he wanted your pleasure as much as his.

“Come for me,” he commanded.

He coaxed another.

“Delicious,” he moaned, tongue fucking inside you, and your back arched, fingers digging into the velvety bedsheets. “Come for me, again.”

Like clockwork, you did.

He withdrew his tongue for a brief moment.

“Submission is a beautiful look on someone so full of spirit.”

“Suguru…please, I don’t…”

He shushed you again.

“We should take things up a notch, hm?” he pondered over the options. “Perhaps I should insert a dildo while I fuck you senseless, or maybe…”

Your eyes widened, shaking your head vehemently.

“No, no, no, please!”

He growled your name.

“None of that,” he reprimanded with a dangerous frown. “We can make a choice. It’s not as if you’re inexperienced. Do you prefer those vibrators you keep in your sock drawer?”

“How did—?”

His lips curled into a wicked smirk.

“Oh, I’ve seen everything. And I want to watch.”

“Why—?”

“Because you’re so beautiful when you please yourself,” he sighed dreamily, “It’s such a wonderful sight—like that one night where you kept humping your pillow for some release. Did you wish that was someone else?”

You swallowed a dry wad of nothing. You did. Of course you did. You wished it was Gojo.

“I believe I even heard you call his name…”

Your lips quivered. “Suguru…”

He waved you off.

“No, no, it certainly wasn’t my name you called those nights, which broke my heart.”

His lips formed a thin line before he spat into your oversensitive pussy.

“It does always end up having everything to do with Satoru, doesn’t it? That selfish bastard, can’t even let me have this one thing…”

For a few moments, he completely pulled back, leaving you in a state of suspense and admiring your quivering form from the intensity of his touch. For a while he just stood there, his eyes raking you head to toe with a mix of satisfaction and something darker…triumph, perhaps, but also a hint of something softer? Geto’s thought process, you have come to realize a while ago, didn't make a lick of sense, so you didn't try to make sense of his madness anymore. Finally the sound of him shuffling to retrieve the necessary supplies broke the tense silence, not just the sound of your ragged breathing, trying to ground yourself for what was to come.

He returned to the bed, a vibrator in his hand that he switched on…of course, the very kind you preferred to use.

He had you down to an art, resting the vibrator to your pussy, at first, at a low, comfortable setting. Not too fast, not too strong. You liked the buildup, and he knew all that well.

He ran his tongue past his lips.

“What do you wish Satoru did when you think about him?”

You whimpered.

He amped up the setting.

“Do you think he’d be a more appropriate lover than me?”

He angled your vibrator the way you liked, and you moaned.

“Do you think he’d know how to take you apart? To make you squirm?”

Two fingers pressed on your clit. You mewled.

“You dare to utter his name instead of mine—!”

“Suguru—please! Too much! It’s too much, I can’t—!”

Your arousal splattered on the toy, his wrist, and a bit on his chin.

“You will never wish it was Satoru doing these things to you ever again. If I even get an inkling you are thinking of him, I’ll punish you. So promise me.”

You didn’t respond, only focused on calming your breathing. Ragged. Labored.

Your heartbeat raced.

He snarled your name, grasping your jaw and locking his eyes with yours.

“Promise me,” he repeated.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered. “I promise.”

His lips curled into a sinister, satisfied smirk, pressing a kiss to your thigh.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ silly block game ]❜

ft. lucy pevensie, edmund pevensie, susan pevensie, peter pevensie (seperate) x gn! reader — the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ playing minecraft with the pevensie siblings┊1.5k words

setting: modern au, no mentions of narnia contains: fluff & crack, modern alternate universe, they are children in the image but ages are unspecified (so it could be romantic or platonic), mentions of in-game player & pet deaths,

��� author's note: i had a dream that peter died in my arms while we were playing minecraft and decided to write cute headcanons when i woke up like a loser

━━━ .°˖✧ lucy pevensie ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ favorite biome - cherry grove, favorite mob - frogs, favorite flower - lily of the valley, favorite wood - birch, favorite block - moss

╰₊✧ she takes her time when it comes to completing the game and may take forever to get to the end dimension, prefering to play on peaceful mode so that she can focus on exploring and creating with keep inventory on since she doesn’t want to stress out about playing, enjoying everything it has to offer and will continuously pause on making progress to admire the scenery (but sometimes she turns it on easy mode to give her a little challenge when caving). oddly enough, even if the difficulty was on hard mode, she never seems to encounter any hostile mobs and they all decide to attack you instead while mining. it’s not an uncommon occurrence for her to tell you that she found her eighth patch of diamonds only for you to scream in response because you found a zombie spawner. she’ll manage to make it out of a pillager outpost without losing so much as half a heart while you’re looking like a pincushion, how does she do it?

╰₊✧ more of a farmer player who is mesmerized by all the different types of flowers and will have a goal of harvesting all of them to make colorful fields that stretch on for longer than your render distance will allow you to see. she’s most excited about updates that have new plants, wood types, and animals, keeping pets of all kinds even if they aren’t meant to be domesticated! her base is practically a zoo and is always full of life just like she is, yet it still naturally blends in with the area so well that it seems naturally generated at first glance. on a creepier note, the more hidden areas might have a skull or two placed to fit an overgrown and abandoned aesthetic, but at least it’s pretty with all of the spore blossoms!

╰₊✧ lucy hates villager trading farms with a passion, finding them too inhumane despite the fact that the villagers are npcs without sentience of any sort. it breaks her heart to see them in such cramped living conditions whose only purpose is for trade, so she’ll work on freeing them while you’re offline. she’ll spend hours upon hours gathering materials in secret to build a nicer village than the one they formally resided in before dismantling your system, with a good amount of iron golems to protect them from hostile mobs since she didn’t want to restrict them by building a fence or walls. (don’t worry, all of them are named and she’s kept a book on all of their trades so that you can keep track! the hard part is only tracking them down, but the big village is a thousand times better than the ugly trading hall you had before).

━━━ .°˖✧ edmund pevensie ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ favorite biome - ice spikes, favorite mob - horses, favorite flower - torchflower, favorite wood - dark oak, favorite block - prismarine

╰₊✧ he enjoys speedrunning, the only thing standing between him and being on the leaderboard is minor slip-ups that cost the entire game. he tends to get too cocky, especially once he’s gathered all he needed from the nether fortress and prematurely celebrates before a blaze knocks him off the edge, so you bet that you’re going to hear him come up with the most creative insults you would ever hear over the discord call (not including swears because he will be scolded for his language by someone in his house). his best record of beating the game is around forty minutes, nothing to gawk at, but something that he’s very proud of after all of his practice.

╰₊✧ if it’s not a world dedicated to that, where he doesn’t need to build a base, then he’ll place down all of the essentials and call it a day without a roof over his head. it’s not like he can actually get wet from the rain or sunburn from the sun, so he doesn’t bother and just lives like that until you persuade him to at least dig out a hole in a mountain to keep away from night-time mobs and expand whenever needed. his scattered chests are a mess, by the way, you can’t find anything while he just spam clicks and glazes over the screen to find something in his strange little system. he insists that he knows where everything is and that organization isn’t needed.

╰₊✧ also a total prankster, but will never blow up builds or destroy anything of yours because he knows how much time you put into it for a minute of amusement. he likes watching where you log out and trapping you in that spot with obsidian, something that you can easily get out of with a pick but is still annoying enough for him to get a kick out of it. once he wasn’t sure where the exact spot was, so he spent an entire real-life night meticulously encasing the area in glass and then flooding every block of air with water. he wondered multiple times if the effort was worth it in the process, but he cried tears of laughter when you couldn’t get out at all since you drowned before you could break the glass and then swim out. it was an endless cycle of “died by drowning” until you offered him a chest of iron blocks for your freedom.

━━━ .°˖✧ susan pevensie ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ favorite biome - mountains, favorite mob - foxes, favorite flower - rose bushes, favorite wood - mangrove, favorite block - quartz

╰₊✧ has mixed feelings on redstone, something that makes so much yet so little sense. it’s something that she likes to think that she mastered quickly, but you can always hear her muttering under her breath about how an entire contraption broke because of something dumb like the repeater being a tick off. she always covers up these machines with big, elaborate builds in a unique gothic style that you’ve only seen from her— although most of these builds are hollow since she doesn’t know how to design the interior, leaving entire towns empty until she lets you fill them up with various shops and villagers to make it feel more lived-in.

╰₊✧ refuses to throw anything away and maybe has a bit of a hoarding tendency, you cannot convince her to toss so much as a rotten potato into the lava because she “might need it in the future” even though it’s the most worthless item in the game. her storage system is immense and conscientiously organized with item frames and color signs while practically overflowing, but she has copious amounts of everything and is very generous when it comes to sharing as long as you ask beforehand! (as a result, her least favorite mobs are creepers because she needs to sort out the damaged chests before everything disappears, a complete nightmare)

╰₊✧ has god-like accuracy with any projectiles and has mending on her bow because she hates how expensive it is to get a new one with maxed-out enchantments and argues about how it’s so much better than infinity once she made the switch. you need an inventory slot with at least one arrow anyway, so why can’t you just have the full stack when you can always pick up more by killing skeletons? it may be a bit pretentious of her, but she might mock you that you just have a skill issue when she sees you being a bad shot before giving you some tips on how to improve.

━━━ .°˖✧ peter pevensie ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ favorite biome - fields, favorite mob - dogs/wolves, favorite flower - oxeye daisy, favorite wood - spruce, favorite block - diamond ore

╰₊✧ from “the sky’s the limit” to “whatever floats your goat,” the game isn’t done until he’s gotten all of the achievements no matter how stupid they may be! he’s pretty serious about completing, but once he’s finished, you can see him start goofing off and being more ridiculous. unlike his brother who plays the pranks, he tends to be the victim of them and can’t get revenge at all because his traps are a bit obvious (lucy always helps him out in that department). on the other hand, he’s great at pvp and fighting mobs, best with a sword, and likes to start raids to fight for fun with the “hero of the village” effect being a massive ego boost as well.

╰₊✧ his builds are pretty boring and cramped since he never upgrades it as needed, his house is really just a box made out of planks from the surrounding area. he didn’t think that you could create anything pleasing to the eye in a game where everything is made from cubes, so you’ll need to open his eyes to the fact that he can construct whatever he wants and how the only limit is his creativity. he won’t advance any further than using two different types of woods and including cobblestone, it simply isn’t his strong suit and he would much rather spend his time exploring and slaying his enemies instead.

╰₊✧ he has so many dogs, it’s not even funny, you need to turn down the volume for passive mobs whenever you’re at his base because they are barking nonstop. it’s not intentional either, he just somehow constantly forgets that feeding them makes them breed and can’t ever resist not giving them some steak when they tilt their heads at him. he gave up on naming all of them since he didn’t have enough tags and dying all of their collars after building a separate home for them, but the original ones that he tamed in the wild remain in his bedroom. despite the number of dogs, he refuses to take any of them on adventures with them because he will cry when unnamed number two hundred-something dies after sniffing lava and holds a funeral with a proper burial place.

[that-left-turn]

Do you think they were just trying to change the audience from Carol (and Daryl) fans and bring in a bigger male audience instead? If it is this, what do you think will happen in terms of the show's success?

There are some showrunners who feel like they 'deserve' a certain kind of audience or that their writing is aimed at a specific type of viewer. (Invariable young, straight, white male from a middle class background.) If the actual demographics of the audience don't match, some of those showrunners essentially self-sabotage by trying to change the elements of the show that appeal to their viewership. I don't know that Zabel is that guy because he doesn't write procedural crime or (supernatural) action adventure—physical plotting is a particular weak spot of his and it makes him unsuited to write for TWDU (as envisioned by Gimple) because it focuses on action over character. I assume that's why Keith Staskiewicz was a new addition for TBOC; he doesn't have much experience, but he's written for Dead City, which is an action packed show written by dudebros for dudebros.

There seems to be a tug of war going on about what the tone of TWD Caryl should be, between Norman who wants an artsy exploration of the human condition (more in line with what we saw in S2 of the flagship show) and Gimple who prefers gore and grimes. The horror genre covers a lot of ground, so both of those options are valid choices, but they can't coexist in the same show. Either you aim for more psychological horror (not really what Zabel writes, but I suspect it's what Norman would like even if he doesn't know how to articulate it) or gore with its shock-value violence and novelty zombies. The latter works for Negan, but not for a Carol and Daryl spinoff. They're abuse survivors and the focus should be on psychological terror rather than grossing out the audience.

I think some execs at AMC thought that S1 didn't do well because the plot lacked action and excitement. They expected Daryl to bring in lots of (young male) viewers and the course correction for TBOC was to have him be a more traditional action hero who kills things and kisses inappropriate women. Throw in Carol as the Ripley/Connor stand-in and every gimmick in the "TV Book of Tricks," from riding a motorcycle and a white horse to shooting the crossbow and killing with gardening tools, and surely that big male-skewing audience will show up.

There are primarily two kinds of TWDU viewers:

those who watch for character(s) and/or ships

those who are interested in the mythology of the setting

The external plot of TBOC is incredibly weak:

The religious-political conflict goes nowhere, it's just a lot of characters spouting their life philosophy

nothing is done to move the needle on the walkers/virus

even the story engine, Daryl's quest to get home, doesn't drive the action but is instead in doubt (biggest no-no in TV writing)

The TWD Caryl characters are all stock characters:

the noble soldier driven to his own downfall by his misguided need for revenge

the villain whose lack of control and agency turned her into a power hungry monster and in the end, an actual monster

the madonna-whore representation doomed to be a plot device because she exists solely to service the arcs of the male characters

Carol and Daryl's dynamic is off-kilter and the latter has been turned into a Clint Eastwood lone ranger type of man

TBOC isn't giving anyone anything they enjoy, but it was an attempt at catering to a male skewing audience. I'm not sure what TPTB will do with S3 because, like I said, there are very distinct schools of thought on how to 'fix' the problems.

There was a production stop after the scenes set in the UK and the storm at seas were shot, so chances are, there were rewrites in response to the poor reception of TBOC. Any downtime once you've started principal photography is extremely costly, so it's only done when there's a legal obligation, like for an on-set death or if there's a showstopping emergency, like major last-minute revisions. Anything else, the production team tries to shoot around, so there won't be any delay. If you shoot on location, you have to house and feed everyone in addition to the costs of producing the show, so it gets very, very expensive if you don't wrap on time.

TWD Caryl won't be successful if the writing doesn't improve. A good showrunner puts the story first—there's always noise coming from all ends which has to be shut down or redirected. If the nunmance was Norman's idea, Zabel should've nixed it because it's literally his job to control the talent. If it was his own idea, how much hope should we hold that he's learned how to plot better in the last few months? Can Zabel and Richman, who don't write three dimensional women and haven't watched the flagship show, write a complex emotional arc for two traumatized abuse survivors?

My questions to anyone who's still reading this long post:

Do you think Zabel could write a romance you'd find satisfying?

If it's lackluster, would you still watch the show, find contentment in "at least there's finally canon"?

Would it be an okay tradeoff if Caryl's characterization is altered to accommodate Zabel's vision for canon?

Do you trust him not to refrigerate Carol?

[lelet-draws]

After Chalice of Gods ends and if Rick still wants to write Percy Jackson books, I think it would be cool to shift the focus and have Nico as the protagonist. Something like a Camp Half Blood next generation.

The thing about Nico is that he has a pattern in every series of always getting a confirmation that things will get better for him. And it isn’t a bad thing, it’s just that it never leads to a proper closure.

Percy staying with Annabeth and going to New Rome feels like an appropriate closure, since Percy’s whole goal through the books was to survive and hopefully live a happy life with the ones he loves.

Nico getting together with Will however, doesn’t seem like a proper ending, it feels more like a new beginning for a character that spent most of his life suffering without having any control.

And Nico is literally one of the most interesting characters. He is the only kid of the big three who is alive and didn’t have a support system or a place to call home until very recently. He struggles with the way he sees himself and even shows some signs of disorder eating. He can and has traveled the world through shadow traveling. He was frozen in time and lives in a completely different era, where he finally can be accepted as a gay person.

The thing I liked about tsats, was how Nico managed to work through his trauma and accept it, finally gaining control over his own life. But now that he has the control, what will he do next?

I think having a Nico centered series would be really cool, cause there are so many things that could be explored.

What will he do now? Will he go to school? Will he stay in the camp?

How is he adjusting to the modern world? What friends will he make along the way? How will he interact with the other campers?

How will he find his passion/goal in life and achieve it? How will his boyfriend help him?

There are just so many questions about this character that need to be answered. A series about Nico finding himself, learning how to adapt to the world around him and work through his trauma would be just amazing.

[sagurus]

So there's this Saguru headcanon I've been toying with.

Instead of interpreting Saguru as Holmes-obsessed, his interest actually spans classical literature more generally, although with a more honed (obsessive) focus on certain niches (mystery, detective stories, stories about brilliant thieves, etc). Sherlock is still a character he definitely cherishes. But he actually cosplayed 'Holmes' (in an outfit Holmes never canonically wears, to be clear) as a little nod to Lupin vs Herlock Sholmes. Like. The thief he's starting to chase is a Kaitou/gentleman thief. He's dressed in all white with a goddamn tophat and cape. Saguru just wants to match the level of camp and play along.

I know this does contradict a piece of canon - in that he's still wearing his Holmes-esque outfit in a case that has nothing to do with KID (during his very first introduction). But an additional headcanon to account for this is that Saguru is avidly into historical fashion and deliberately wears it in his day to day life. Sometimes more subtly and sometimes not. I think another strong indicator of this is his pocket watch, which is certainly old fashioned. Also, I of course wouldn't be surprised if the deerstalker + inverness are also a comfort outfit for him.

And one additional thing to consider is that we haven't actually seen him quote Holmes at any point or really reference him at all. In contrast to Shinichi, the established Holmes fanatic, who has definitely quoted the Sherlock Holmes books. That is, of course, as far as I recall. It's possible that I'm misremembering.

Anyway, I just think it's a fun alternate interpretation! Not sure if I've fully embraced it, but I've been having fun exploring it.

[saintsenara]

i just picture George/Angelina being incredibly unhealthy (i love it) George is obviously the “less dominate” twin. Angelina as quidditch captain was dominate, dare i say bossy and had enough self assurance to put her name in the goblet of fire with most people thinking she’d be chosen. after Fred’s death George would be rightfully depressed and pretty broken and Angelina would sort of walk all over him, call all the shots and basically run his life for him while she does really whatever she pleases with hers but he can’t challenge her on it because he never learned how to do that in his adolescence while coming to see her domineering nature as a familiar comfort in his young adulthood even though the relationship would probably serve her growth while stunting his

i must admit i'm very fond of george and angelina as a pairing, and it all being a little bit fucked up is very much why.

although i'm not sure that i would agree with the idea that angelina would walk all over george, so much as that i think the thing that makes their relationship really compelling for authors to explore is how it's rooted in a mutual stasis - a joint attempt to cling on to a bit of the past.

because i think lots of people get that george finding himself entangled with angelina is inseparable from his grief over fred. but fewer people focus on how angelina gravitates towards him for the same reason. while she doesn't actually seem to have any sort of significant romantic relationship with fred [a cheeky fumble in a rose bush at the yule ball is hardly a proposal of marriage...], she's clearly firm friends with both twins while she's at school. she's also a member of dumbledore's army and she fights at the battle of hogwarts. she - like george - loses someone she loves [romantically or otherwise] that day, and she - like george - can be written as someone who blames herself for that.

so i like the idea of george finding angelina a comfort - but only if this feeling is mutual, with each clinging to the other because doing so allows them to repress their grief by letting them never have to progress in processing it. which is, of course, incredibly bad for you.

this doesn't prevent the relationship also being based in much healthier areas of compatibility. angelina is certainly brusque in canon [although she's right to shout at harry, and i'll die on that hill], but she's also got a sense of humour which clearly aligns with george's [she's mentioned a few times throughout the books laughing and joking with him and fred], she doesn't sulk or hold grudges [she immediately gets over harry being selected as triwizard champion], she's pragmatic [she selects ron as keeper over better candidates because she thinks he'll be more committed to the team], she's not a doormat [she doesn't tolerate umbridge refusing to let the quidditch team reform and takes the request to mcgonagall instead], she's loyal [during order of the phoenix she backs ron as keeper much more than harry does - and harry's management of ron in half-blood prince borrows much more from hers than he may realise], and she's brave [the aforementioned fighting in the battle of hogwarts]. it's very easy to imagine that there's lots about being together which is uncomplicatedly enjoyable for both her and george.

but with this happiness always feeling rather more fragile than is usually the case, owing to the spectre haunting them both which both are unwilling to confront.

[lovemyromance]

Why do you think there won't be an Illyrian plotline? There's been a lot of emphasis on Ramiel, the BR, the focus on the political unrest in Illyria and the backwardness of the wing-clipping of Illyrian females

This might get me cancelled but quite frankly I don't think SJM is capable of or even wants to explore that kind of story.

I don't like bringing race into things, but SJM is a white woman. It can't be ignored. While I'm not trying to say that people of a certain race can't write about injustice or about a different oppressed race, especially one that's fictional- I just think SJM specifically doesn't have the right voice... so to speak... to write such a story.

Like I am sure she understands injustice. She understands classism. She understands oppression. But a story like that deserves a full focus, a full detailed account into that narrative of feeling oppressed, feeling like you are inferior, feeling like you are lower than an entire group of people ... all based on something you couldn't even control.

That kind of story doesn't fit into what she has set up for ACOTAR. SJM is not writing a story about social justice. She is writing a romantasy. The focus being on romance, just as much as it is on the fantasy elements of magic and powers and drama and suspense and thrilling action.

The Illyrian world building isn't the focus of her story. It is the backstory to explain the current state. Like the distinction between High Fae vs Lesser fae. It exists to serve as background context, and nothing more in my opinion. It is a plot device. It shows why Rhys/Cassain/Azriel are the way that they are. It adds to the political conflict post ACOWAR. It gives Emerie a backstory.

I see that entire subplot the same way I think SJM uses SA as just a "check the box: trauma ✔️" when she's coming up with her characters backstories. It exists for the sole purpose of character building. SA trauma is used for several of her main and side characters, but it's never really focused on. Rhys talks about it with Feyre, explaining how horrible it was, but nothing beyond that. No focus on Rhys's healing from that, not even a Rhys POV about his thoughts on it. Gwyn also has SA, but beyond sharing her background with Nesta and being in that library, it's literally never brought up again. Lucian's SA with Ianthe is also barely brought up or even talked about.

Emerie feeling anger and self-hatred over her wings being clipped is honestly the most SJM has done with the Illyrian plotline. Azriel has outright claimed he doesn't care if Illyria is blasted off the map. Cassian tries to help, but most of ACOSF was focused on him and Nesta. This would've been the perfect opportunity to have Nesta train in Windhaven and learn more about the Illyrians and help Emerie -> but she didn't want to train there. So back to the HOW we go.

And to be clear - I'm not trying to criticize SJM. She is writing a romantasy. That needs to be kept in mind. People who open her books are expecting romance, drama, action. They are not expecting to read 800 pages on fictional social oppression. They are not expecting to read 800 pages of someone recovering from SA.

Like there are other books for that. There are amazing other books for that. But ACOTAR? That's not what ACOTAR is made for.

SJM has not even set up any main characters to be able to narrate that Illyrian subplot. Emerie is the only one that comes to mind that could actually give a detailed account of what it feels like. But she's not even talked about when it comes to getting one of the next spinoffs.

These kind of stories about social injustice need to be handled with care and grace, but also be truthful enough that it's not sugarcoating the true atrocities people faced. And I know this is about a fictional world, but I see this world building as similar to real life events. Like when early American colonizers drove out the native Americans. Jim Crow laws. Apartheid. Indians that suffered under the rule of the British. Jews during WWII.

Illyria might be fictional but oppression is not. If you're going to write about something like that, it's going to be open to a lot of scrutiny and it will have to be the focus. It will have to be written with careful, yet honest words. And SJM - or at least her editors- know that too.

It doesn't fit the story she has set up with ACOTAR. And if she tried to do it now, I don't think it would even go over well.

[ca-suffit]

“loumand were happy together most of the time” is kind of an insane take bc louis spent eps 1-4 haunted by lestat and distracted by a hallucination of him, fought badly with armand and called him a boring beige pillow in ep 5, the closest they probably came to being genuinely happy was in 6, the ep which had louis acting really off (i think jacob himself said he’d regressed to a lot of his past personality). eps 7, 8 and dubai speak for themselves lol. whereas loustat *were* happy, especially when they were raising claudia (“we were a happy trio”), and it’s clear that louis downplayed a lot of that happiness (see all of jacob and sam’s comments about dreamstat reflecting the softer and happier parts of loustat that louis wants to forget). but people also ship them because a) their intense chemistry and b) the whole show revolves around their romance, which is tragic and destructive because they love each other *so much*. it’s fucked up but also so compelling and epic and romantic because they will literally love each other forever and nothing can stop it no matter the cost. that doesn’t mean you have to ship it, but it actually surprises me that someone could even enjoy the show if they don’t even “get” loustat at all

tbh I think an argument could be made for both relationships either way. I don't think any of it has to be a contest of any kind. ppl come into the show from all different backgrounds and awareness of the books / characters or not. I think it's fine to let ppl come into the story however they want.

loustat allowed louis to feel seen for the first time in his life but also unseen in other ways. we do see them have happy moments but the more time goes on, the worse they get and the less "alive" he seems. then there's the explosive endings of the fight and mardi gras. although the show has told us there's layers to this and a general back and forth of whether things were better or worse all over their timeline.

loumand and being in paris gives louis more freedom in ways than he's ever known. he explores hobbies, he feels less judged as a black man in public spaces, he feels like he's allowed to have boundaries and voice desires. armand pretends to relinquish control at times when he knows it's what louis requires to feel good. that's something that lestat wasn't doing. for a lot of S2, in dubai, there is an unease felt and a forced manner of discussing all of these "happy" memories they have together, but a lot of it still feels real. like an authentic couple that's been married a long, long time and settled into each other. 2x5 shows us a layer peeled back and starts to break the illusion, but just like with louis' happy moments with lestat, it doesn't change that those moments still exist.

the show itself is always telling us that everything we see of any of this are parts of a whole. just like real life, all events have different perspectives. if louis' memory hadn't been erased after 2x5 then who knows what would have happened. but louis also wouldn't have left lestat on his own without claudia too, so maybe nothing?

the core of all of these relationships is what they reveal about the characters. while loustat has been said to be the main focus throughout, it doesn't lessen any of the others. all of these characters are around each other for eternity and have to endure each other somehow, whatever their current status with each other. I don't think anyone has to have any relationship preference to watch the show tbh, bcuz they're all related in the end anyway.

[the-oracle-of-the-lost]

For the character ask game: What about Tuvok and Michael Burnham?

from this ask game

Tuvok:

how i feel about this character.

i love Tuvok so dearly. i think he's the strongest Vulcan character of the whole franchise and Tim Russ does such a masterful job portraying him. i really can't think of a single scene where i don't enjoy Tuvok's presence in some way.

all the people i romantically ship with this character.

just his wife t'pel. i can't think of any other tuvok ships i've seen that i hate but there aren't any that really interest me either.

my non-romantic otp for this character.

Tuvok & Janeway without a doubt. they make such a good best friend pairing. all of their scenes alone together make my heart melt a little with how much they care for each other

unpopular opinion on this character.

hm... the only thing i can think of that might be controversial is the fact that Tuvok and his morality is flawed. i think so often he (and other Vulcan characters) are seen in the fandom as the paragon of reason and sense and i think that flattens characters somewhat and also doesn't reflect what we see in canon. there are episodes like Meld where Tuvok advocates for the death penalty or Learning Curve where he's shown to hold his crew, especially his Maquis crew, to unrealistic standards or Resolutions where the crew has to basically mutiny before Tuvok considers going back for Janeway and Chakotay. yes Tuvok does have a strong sense of justice and yes he almost always follows logic but he's also very much a utilitarian and sometimes his morality is at odds with the audience and the rest of the crew which i like and i think should be considered more often.

one thing i wish would happen/had happened in canon.

that he got more stories... i mean it's not a secret that we only really get three-ish stories stories in the last four seasons that truly focus on Tuvok as a character and not just on him as a supporting character for others. i think he gets some strong supporting roles as a mentor and friend but i wish we got more stories actually centered on him.

Michael:

how i feel about this character.

MICHAELLLLL! Michael has by far one of the strongest arcs and characters in all of Trek. while early disco is a bit hit or miss for me, Michael is such a strong & compelling character that it makes up more it.

all the people i romantically ship with this character.

i love Michael/Book and am very happy with how they ended up in s5. i also do like Michael/Laira too because even just a few scenes i think their chemistry really jumped off the page.

my non-romantic otp for this character.

i do really love Michael & Saru. the few times they hug in s4 and s5 really took me out and i love the mutual respect & trust they've managed to cultivate despite their rough beginning in s1.

unpopular opinion on this character.

i mean i think it was a common (non tumblr) fandom opinion that Michael cries or emotes too much and that's obviously just some racist and misogynistic bullshit. Michael's whole journey is about throwing off the repression she was forced into as a child by growing up on Vulcan and live her life on her own terms and part of that is embracing her emotions. like probably one of the best scenes in the whole show is the sheer joy after she makes the time jump to the future at the beginning of s3.

one thing i wish would happen/had happened in canon.

i would have really liked Michael to have explored her relationship with Vulcan culture/society more, especially in s3 and beyond. like she obviously had a difficult time growing up but Vulcan culture is still her culture and i would have loved to see her more with post-Burn Vulcans and Romulans. even just her and T'Rina bonding over a Vulcan holiday or something would have been so good.

thanks for the ask!!! <3

[kdogreads]

Redhead Delight

Dean x Female!Reader smut (18+ only!)

Summary: Dean has a thing for redheads and you, his redheaded partner in crime, have a thing for Dean.

Warnings: oral sex (fem-receiving), cussing, teasing; let me know anything else please

Word Count: 1750-ish

A/N: This is a bit self-indulgent, being a redhead myself, but oh well. We all love some Dean doing his thing… ;) Enjoy!

Now taking requests! Message me :)

———————————————

It was no secret why Dean had such a soft spot for you.

You’d spent countless nights in motel rooms with the brothers. Towels, underwear, accidentally walking in on one of them with a girl or just enjoying themselves, same thing for you. You really learn a lot about a person when you spend your life on the road with them sharing shitty motel rooms.

All of these times when something could have happened between you and Sam, it just didn’t. He’d fumble around and apologize profusely and act like an awkward teenager for a couple of days until you yanked his chain about it, both of you ending up laughing and acting like normal.

Dean, on the other hand, didn’t laugh it off when you walked out in a towel, or you caught a glimpse of him changing his clothes. He stared intently at your glistening body, taking in every line and scar and curve he could, imagining what was underneath. He’d dart his eyes away as soon as you noticed his eyes on you, acting like he didn’t see you.

Not only had you saved each other's asses more times than you could count, but you didn’t take any shit from him. You’d throw an attitude right back at him every time, and he loved that about you. You’d stand up to Dean when he was being his stubborn self, unknowingly turning him on like crazy.

And then there was the other thing.

It’s common knowledge Dean had a thing for redheads, and your coppery auburn locks were his favorite shade. He’d daydream about running his fingers through it, twisting it up into his hands and pulling it, yanking your head back with it and-

“Dean?” You startled him out of his thoughts, “Where’s Sam?” You wondered out loud, combing your fingers through your freshly washed hair wearing only a cheap, scratchy motel towel.

“He, uh, he went out for groceries,” Dean replied quickly, shoving his face back into the dusty book in his hands.

“Ah,” You replied with an exhale, toweling your flowing locks dry, still leaving them a bit damp. Dean could see you out of the corner of his eye, trying his hardest to focus on the words in front of him.

You knew Dean lusted for you, but what he didn’t know is that you wanted him just as badly.

You sauntered over to the small dresser you kept your clothes in and bent at the waist all the way down to the bottom drawer. Only your jeans were down there, which you didn’t need as you were settling in the room for the night, but Dean didn’t need to know that. You were just putting on a show. You were certain Dean had a front-row view of your round, glistening ass and your delicious folds.

You heard a groan come up from this chest.

“Something wrong, Dean?” You asked, peering over your shoulder at him. His book was in his lap and his hand was over his mouth.

“Uh, no. Nothing wrong,” He responded, but this time he didn’t look away or pretend he wasn’t looking. He locked his emerald eyes with yours.

You stood up and turned to face him, taking a few long steps to stand in front of him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed from where he was lounging. His pupils dilated as you got closer.

“I’ve seen how you look at me, Dean,” You offer, raising a hand to touch his cheek, and he rests his own hand on your forearm, “I know how you feel about me.”

“Y/n,” He growls at you, touching another hand to your exposed thigh.

“I want you, too, Dean,” You play with the seam on his shirt, “I want you to you fuck me until I can’t see straight.”

Dean stands up swiftly and hungrily crashes his lips to yours. His hands explored your neck, your curved body. He bit at your bottom lip eliciting a moan from your throat. His tongue pushed into your mouth and worked its way around, tasting every surface he could reach.

Your fingers slip under the hem of his t-shirt and toy at his warm skin. His lips part from yours for only a second as he reaches one hand behind his head and pulls his shirt off in one swift motion.

He kisses you again in the same hungry fashion, biting at your swollen bottom lip. Dean’s hands begin sliding up and down your sides over the faded towel. You eagerly tug at the end tucked in over your chest and drop the towel to the floor.

Now you are fully naked standing in front of Dean and he savored the sight of every curve, every line, all the ones he couldn’t see until now. You were better than he could have imagined.

“Y/n,” Dean whispers into your neck while you let out a sharp breath, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Your soft moan could have answered enough, but not for Dean. He twists his hands into your flowing crimson locks, just as he had dreamt about for months.

His lips only left yours when he suddenly pulled your head back hard by his intoxicated hand.

“Words, y/n. Tell me what you want,” Dean whispered into your ear sending a shiver down your already trembling body.

“Please, Dean, take me,” You beg as his free hand wanders down your body, pausing on your left breast before sliding down to the skin just beside your slick entrance, “take me now.”

Suddenly, Dean releases his grasp on your hair and slides his hands under your goosebump-spotted ass and scoops you up. He walks forward a few steps until you land softly on the queen-sized bed behind you.

Dean kisses your body while you lay your head back onto a pillow. He kisses your jaw, down to your neck and collarbones. Your eyes flutter shut as he reaches your warm, soft breasts and takes one into his mouth, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple in circles.

Your hands meet Dean’s spiked hair as he slides his tongue down your stomach, to your thighs and spreads them gently apart with two strong hands.

Your breath hitches in your throat as one calloused finger circles around your wet folds while his eyes hungrily took in the beautiful sight.

“God you are stunning, y/n,” Dean kisses your thigh as his finger slides slowly into you drawing a moan from your parted lips, “Let’s see how you taste.”

You gasped as Dean dove into your core, tongue eagerly exploring the sweetness while another finger slid into your entrance.

His lips made their way to your clit and formed a tight “o,” sucking hard on you, making your hips buck up into his mouth. His thick fingers pumping steadily in and out of you.

One of your hands slammed into the mattress, fingers balling up the stiff sheets as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening more and more.

“Dean,” You gasped, your breathing becoming erratic, “Oh god-“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” Dean mumbled into your trembling core, “That’s right, baby.”

His words were all you needed to finally feel the release. Your hips ground into his face as you rode the waves of pleasure, your walls clenching around his calloused fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut as your toes curled and your thighs clamped against Dean’s head. He kept swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud and used his strong hands to peel your legs apart.

Dean kept pumping in and out of you, slowing only as your frantic breaths began to calm.

A smug smile curled across Dean’s lips as you came back down to earth and noticed his eyes back on yours. He crawled back up your body, planting small kisses on all of your sensitive spots.

When his lips met yours, you tasted your own sweetness on his mouth and gratefully explored the tastes with your tongue.

“If I would’a known you looked so pretty when you cum, I would have done that a long time ago,” Dean cooed into your ear, still planting sloppy kisses onto your cheek. He ran his fingers through your hair again only after you took them to your mouth and sucked all the juices off. “I love this hair, too, sweetheart. All the time.”

“Hmm,” you sighed contently, pulling his lips to your again for a sweet kiss, “Thank you, Dean.”

Lips still pressed together, you heard a car door shut just outside your motel door, then another. Sam must have been back with the groceries.

Your eyes widened as your gaze met Dean’s again.

“Shit,’ You spat, swinging your legs over the bed and out from under Dean to find your discarded towel. “Dean!”

He turned over and leaned on the bed’s headboard, hands folded contently behind his head and a cocky grin on his face. He didn’t say anything, but winked at you in response to your concern.

“You little shit,” You laughed as you hurriedly wrapped the towel back around your body and tried to smooth your messy copper hair down as best as you could.

The doorknob rattled briefly then swung open and Sam appeared with a couple bags in his hand.

Hey- Oh, sorry, y/n,” Sam started and then turned his head away after noticing you were only in a towel. Your chest was still heaving from the events just moments before and the frantic search for your towel.

“Oh, it’s okay, Sam! I’m just getting in the shower,” You responded shakily, trying your best to sound normal, not winded and not lust-blown.

Sam looked back to you briefly, then to Dean. He raised one eyebrow suspiciously.

“Your hair is already wet, though-- Nope, don’t wanna know,” Sam shook his head and returned to the groceries he sat on the little table. Dean let out a boisterous laugh and grabbed the book he had discarded a few minutes ago.

You shot Dean a playful pout, but a smile crept in. You scurried back into the bathroom with a silly grin still on your face and began to put yourself back together.

Now that you and Dean have made the first move, God only knows what could happen next, and you can’t wait.

——————————

Join my tag list! Thank you so much for the love ❤️ @this-is-me19

[rkmoon]

Song of the Heartless - Coming to you May 4, 2024!

That's the date I'm gonna start serializing it on @project-heartless-serial!! Follow and turn on notifications if you'd like?

If you like: *A primarily aromantic cast being unapologetically aro (aspec identities galore!) *a generous sprinkle of body horror and action *focus on a queerplatonic relationship between the MC and their partner *an egg getting cracked and the exploration thereof (if you know you know) *found family *fighting monsters *fighting against an oppressive system *a rainy atmospheric setting

Then you will enjoy this book!

Further details and a sneak peek of the prologue under the cutoff:

Working Title: Project Heartless Genre: Queer, Dystopian Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Horror Length: 118K Tag: #projectheartless

The Heartless are empty of morals– just as nonexistent as their heart. That was what Rainier Sandoval had been taught at an early age. As an Inner City dweller, the barbarism in the Outer District, where the Heartless thrived, was hard to imagine. But when his own heart was stolen and crushed on his twenty-fifth birthday, he was exiled to that very place, forced to see for himself. He had thought he was prepared, but the expectations were so horribly different from the reality. Conspiracies were afoot, and the more he stayed in Outer District, the more he realized he had been lied to his entire life.  The monsters he was taught to fear might be Angel City's only hope against threats lurking beyond its borders. In a twist of fate, they might also be Rainier's only hope against his own inner demons.

Prologue

Anger. Pain. Anger. Fear. Anger. Hurt. Pain. Hurt. Scream. Anger. Anger. Anger. Anger. ANGER. 

No…

It couldn't think. It felt. It writhed. There was so much pain. Pushing it together. 

Its mind was screaming. Its mind was filled with voices. So many people crammed in such a small space. Like a box filled to the brim with half-dead corpses. Anger bubbled inside, never-ending. 

It didn't know why. All It knew was the Anger. All It knew was the Pain. From the distance, It could hear a mournful cry. Like a child begging to die. It made the Anger rise, overwhelming. The collective indignance of a thousand souls. It Hurt. It Hurt. It Hurt.

So it ripped. Blood poured out in rivulets. It wanted more. It craved. It hungered.

It felt flesh tear in its hands, but It could not see. It felt blood flow down its arms, but It didn't have any. It heard screams echo inside its head, but there was also someone outside, gasping. Begging. Gurgling.

Screams from the inside. Screams from the outside.

"Rowan!" 

"Stay in formation, Will!" 

"No— ROWAN!" 

"It's coming! Duck!"

"It's too late for him, stay back!" 

It heard it. It heard them. Anger surged, so It raged. It fought. But It also wanted to see. It knew It was but a mere voice in the sea of consciousness, but It wanted to see. It wanted to know. The fear that those voices let out, the tremble in their pained gasps. It wanted to know.

Am I the one hurting them?

But the Anger, oh, the Anger — it was all-consuming. It was so filled with Hurt. They were hurting It. In the distance, the Child was weeping. Begging for the torture to end. The Anger won't stop until the Child was set free. But it had been so long. It's been so long, and It wondered what was the point, what was It doing, was throwing back all of this hurt and pain and agony worth it— 

It wanted to rest. Because it hurt. Being pressed together like this, it hurt. 

We must, we should, we are stronger together, we must destroy, we must avenge, we must save, THEY HAVE NOT LEARNED THEIR LESSON— 

"Rowan! No!"

So It kept tearing. It kept killing.

It will not stop.

"No!" A sob. It niggled something inside it. Even as its brethren whispered, even as they jeered and cheered and wanted and laughed and reveled in their cruelty — It heard, and it didn't feel right because the cries, the sobs, the tears— 

Isn't that also just a child?

So It climbed, It groped the others. It tore through their consciousness as it tried to get a grip. It wanted to see. It wanted to know. It wanted to See.

It doesn't matter, the others whispered. We are killing. We are avenging.

No.

It pushed everything away. It felt the body moving, it felt the body going for the kill. It felt the body fighting against someone. It couldn't control it, but It persisted. Because It didn't feel right. Because It wanted to See.

It gasped as It got control of the eyes. It opened them for the first time in centuries.

And It saw... a young man, no more than sixteen, looking at It as if It was death personified.

Because It was.

KILL KILL KILL KILL

NO.

Its hands were wrapped around the boy's throat. And It couldn't help but think about life leeching out of the boy's brilliant green eyes. 

The boy, the young man, was a human. 

It blinked. Memories in the back of Its head surged through its shattered fragments like a fog. 

Wasn't It human, once? 

What did it mean... to be human?

[muffant]

I got an adorable idea!

What if the animatronics in security breach played D&D! Now I'm not talking about the characters inside a fantasy realm I'm thinking what if a person left a players hand book at the pizza Plex and the gang devoured that shit up!

Id like to think Freddy would be a support roll, more the type to help the party indirectly. He feels like the most inclined to spell casting. Id put him as the type to do Wizard, Cleric, Paladin, or even Druid! Id say hed likely stick to the races in the players hand book, probably a human main. He's very into playing a character, even if that character is the same sweet person each time.

Chica is your major roleplay player, she would be all about getting into the mind of her character and really selling it. She plays any race, and class, and often is the one to pick her class race combo last so she has something to go off of, as a challenge. When she does choose you know my girl is Bard all the way. She's also the only one to actually read the history of the races and really get into the D&d lore.

Roxy likes playing a modified monk, (in fact as a over all rule they play with a lot of table rules!) or a rogue, she usually doesnt pick any other class, as well as loving being an elf. She's a little less on the roleplay side (but can't help but bounce off of the others when needed) she's more of a combat centric player. She loves winning encounters, loving puzzles, anything. She's likely to be the one min maxing her character. Which has lead to some fun experiences when Chica asks about how she became a Cleric, Paladin, Druid multi class.

Monty is exclusively a fighter dragonborn. He loves being allowed to smash shit up and have no *real* repercussions. However he's not actually combat driven, he's a roleplay player similar to Chica, only he expresses he can make 101 characters with out needing to change the mechanics of said character. It's scary how calm Monty can be when he's in the role. (Said calmness started to carry over to work life too!) That doesn't stop a burst or two which thankfully only results in a pouty gator. Monty loves exploring the worlds, it's his favourite thing. To picture landscapes and worlds completely different from his own. And then be able to interact with those worlds.

Sun and Moon are the DMs! Sun is a story focused DM, he loves crafting a narrative, playing NPCs, and developing the world's of his story. He's the one usually in the spot light for a majority of the time. The rest of the time is Moon. Moon is a challenge focus dm. He loves crafting riddles, puzzles, combats, and difficult choices at the party. When ever it's moons turn to take over the table all the lights go out and dark red ambient lighting fills the room. Moons challenges are to be feared as Moon takes death in the game as a real and possible thing. While Sun tries to avoid it happening all together. Funnily enough Moon doesn't like improf, he has his encounters planned almost to the T, including alternative paths the party takes, INCLUDING DEATH OUTCOMES. He is meticulous. Sun on the other hand has a half ass idea of what the session will be about related to the over arching story, have a few bullet points of required information, a few bullet points of optional information and just goes from there. He has a party who eagerly love to make their own decisions and discuss where to go and what to do.

I like to imagine that while one is running the work for the day, the other is planning out their portion of the session, always able to communicate and keep track of details together. While Sun is playing Moon is taking notes, more for himself really.

They play once a week on Sundays, seeing as that's their only day off. They play 6 hour sessions usually and go on many tangents. But they enjoy playing so much, after all its the closest thing they get to freedom.

Edit: I FORGOT DJ!!! Of course he would be allowed to play!! And the little DJ dudes too idk what their called. DJ seems like the kind of player to sit back and watch everything happen, communication is a bit hard but he's still included. I think he would play a bard (very classic) just so he could have an excuse to play sound boards during the game. Speaking of which they definitely play games in the west arcade, with DJ helping set the ambience with music and sound effects. I like to think he secretly downloaded files like leaves russling to add to it. DJ likes to work on theme songs for each character. He simply enjoys being included even if it's limited.

[brw]

Do you have any criticism towards the Magnus Family fans?

Anon, all I got is criticism, I'm a full time hater ❤️❤️

Okay unironically though, if you're looking for specifics, well my prevailing feeling about Magnetfam folks is that a lot of them feel like Batfam people who got lost. By that I mean it feels like a community built around fanlore and fan material, as opposed to actually engaging with the text itself, or if they do engage with the comics, it's often being read with those fan interpretations in mind. You see this with people making House of M to be this great AU thing that makes them a royal family, and not the deeply ableist, misogynistic, racist storyline that it is.

Equally, and I want to make it clear that there's no wrong way to get into comics, and this conversation is much more about how movie characterisations keep them from engaging with comics on their own, but a lot of them appear to have gotten into comics via the X-Men movies, and specifically via the prequel films, which offer a very warped view on Magneto, and especially one on Pietro, not that you can call that character Pietro in a meaningful way. It's in the way the focus is primarily on Magneto, with Wanda and Pietro (especially Pietro) being more accessories to him than actual characters.

Look, I hate the retcon as much as the next person, but Wanda and Pietro's mutant identities, while important, have never been a defining aspect of their characters, and you can easily make a recognisable Pietro and Wanda without making them children of Magneto. But then they wouldn't be related to the X-Men, and you can't expect us to read something that isn't the X-Men, right? It's interesting, because the bulk of the comics that discuss Wanda's mutant identity and her experience of being a Rromani mutant witch are Avengers comics, but those don't count because X isn't in the title. Pietro makes more sense to be related to the X-Men (he was in two different volumes of X-Factor after all), but even then, his character journey can never be contained to just what he does in X Books, and I feel like a lot of people ignore this because of the preoccupation with Magneto. It isn't a bad thing to have a favourite character–but it feels weird to position yourself as a fan of the whole "family" while Wanda and Pietro's relation to the family is only an nth of the total comics they've been in.

Also, I get frustrated with the blanketing of all the interesting dynamics in the family to be the same, "I choose you and I love you" relationship they seem to have now. This is going to be a controversial statement, but I don't think Lorna and Wanda should necessarily get along. I think they respect each other a great deal, but they have never grown up together in any way, and they've never enjoyed the same experience of being on the same team and building a solid dynamic like Lorna and Pietro. And that isn't a bad thing! As someone with family members I was estranged from my whole life and only met as an adult, sometimes you never gain the same level of intimacy and love that you do with people you've lived your whole life knowing, and sometimes you just don't really get on. And that's okay too! It's an awkward situation, but that's just family as a whole a lot of the time, and I would have appreciated seeing the different ways different people in those situations react to suddenly having an entire sister they never knew about. Plus, it would be an interesting spin on the norm, which is that Wanda is much more approachable and social than Pietro, but with Lorna she's suddenly the one struggling to make friends. I dunno, I just think a lot of the complexity of family dynamics gets sucked out and that's a big shame to me because one of the most interesting parts of this side of the Marvel Universe is the exploration of navigating new family as an adult, which is a difficult experience I rarely see represented in media.

Finally, and this is completely a me thing, but I don't like the way Vision and Crystal are excluded from the family. Regardless of your opinions on the healthiness of their respective relationships, objectively speaking they are incredibly important to the family as the reason why Wanda and Pietro each have children. There is no Tommy, Billy or Luna without Vision and Crystal, and it kind of shows how the emphasis really is on Magneto and Magneto alone, because everyone who doesn't have a relationship with him is excluded. As I've discussed before, Wanda objectively loves Crystal as a person, and she should be far more prominent as someone Wanda values as a sister in law than she is. Additionally, Vision and Pietro have a much closer and more mature relationship than they are depicted with in fanon, because people saw that one panel of Pietro calling Vision a watch out of context and have never read anything of them together since. Vision and Crystal ARE a part of their family, and if you can't accept that then I think you need to get into something else.