#it was great to meet some folks though

[campanellamaria]

there I yam, holding in many a cough

scottish book trade conference tomorrow and i've been bunged up with a cold the last four days, god why. not even a full two months since the last one!! what actually gives! (probably the freakish temperature hike)

[letteredlettered]

feedback and fic in fandom (3 f's of our own)

This conversation about feedback on fic says everything I’ve been wanting to say better than I could say it. But I’ll go ahead and try anyway.

Over the last five years or so there have been some great discussions around the rise of commodification of fanworks and decline of fandom community. This commodification looks a bit like enshittification of the internet: a cool site exists; its popularity makes someone realize they can get money from it; it has more and more ads; the site adds features to drive engagement, including The Algorithm; the things that made the site cool start to fall away. The site exists now as a vehicle purely to get clicks, and the people on it are on it solely to get clicks—to make money, to be successful, for some kind of social cachet.

AO3 doesn’t have advertisements. It’s not making money. But what is happening to fandom is proof of concept that enshittification changes the way we as humans engage. A cool website in 2004 was often a community space where you could meet people, have conversations, find cool things, and make cool things. A cool website in 2024 is either a content farm that will continually feed you enough content to hold your attention, or a social media site where your participation will come with stats to show you whether you are holding the attention of others.

AO3 wasn’t built to be a community space. It doesn’t have great functions for meeting people and having conversations. The idea was that, because fandom community spaces already existed, AO3 would serve the part of that community where you can find the cool things and store the cool things you made. It was meant to be a library in a city, not the whole city itself.

But it was also never meant to be a website in 2024, a content farm constantly generating content solely for your clicks and eyeballs and ad revenue, or a social media site where the content creators themselves vie for your clicks and eyeballs.

The most common talking point when people discuss the enshittification of fandom is the folks out there who are treating AO3 as that first kind of enshittified website: the content farm. This discussion is about how people treat fanfic as a product for consumption.

The post that kicked off the discussion on @sitp-recs’s blog was about someone who wasn’t getting very many kudos or comments on their fic, and was feeling pretty demoralized about it, then joined a discord server and found an entire channel dedicated to people loving their fic. But those on that server had never come to share that love with the author, which the author found really discouraging.

There are more and more stories like this. Someone on tiktok pulls a quote from a fic on AO3 and makes a 10-second video with them staring at a wall, the quote pasted at the bottom, music playing over it. It has 100,000 hearts, and 100 comments with people gushing over the fic, which has 80 kudos on AO3. Overall, people notice more and more hits on their fics, but fewer and fewer comments or even kudos. Fewer and fewer people seem to feel the need to interact with the author, instead treating the fic like a product to be used and discarded—which the enshittified internet (a stunning feature of late-stage capitalism!) encourages. The fandom community is dying, these stories conclude.

I agree. 100%. Both of the stories above have happened to me—viral tiktoks about my fic, secret discord channels to follow and discuss my fic—and let me tell you, it fucking sucks.

But from these observations about fandom enshittification, the discussion continues in a very odd direction. The solution to the death of fandom community is our favorite enshittification buzzword: engagement. We should engage the authors. They’re producing these products for free. We consume them at no cost. We must demonstrate our gratitude by paying them back.

It’s as though the capitalist consumption that the enshittified web encourages is so ingrained within us that we must think in terms of payment, in terms of exchange, transaction. Or as though, by forgoing payment, authors are some kind of martyrs defying capitalism, and the only way to honor their great sacrifice is comments and kudos.

Indeed, the discourse around this sometimes does veer away from capitalist rhetoric into something that smells almost religious in desperation. Authors are gods who bestow us mere mortals with the fruits of their labor benevolently, through love; the least we can do is worship them. Meanwhile the authors adopt the groveling sentiment of starving artists: I produce great art; I only humbly ask that you feed me in return.

These kinds of entreaties make my skin crawl for a number of reasons. I’m not a god. I’m not writing because I love you. I don’t expect your worship or even your praise.

I think the thing that disturbs me the most about it is that it suggests that authors (or, if the OP is feeling generous fan work creators) are the most important people in fandom. I’ve even seen posts stating that without creators, fandom wouldn’t exist—as though readers aren’t just as important. As though conversations where people discuss characterizations and plot points and randomly spin out interpretations and ideas and thoughts related to canon are meaningless. I’ve even seen people scramble to include folks having these discussions as “creators,” as though realizing that these people are necessary and integral to fandom communities but unable to drop the idea that the producers are the ones who are important. As though that person who just lurks can never count.

Is this what community is? When you join the queer community, are you expected to produce a product of your queerness? If not, must you actively participate and give back to the queer community in order to be considered a part of it? Or is it enough that you are queer, that you exist as a queer person and want to be around others who are queer, you want to be a part of something? What is community, anyway?

The problem with people raising the authors above everyone else in the community and demanding that tribute be paid is that they are decrying the “content farm” style of 2024 website out of one side of their mouth, but out of the other side are instead demanding that AO3 become a 2024-style social media website. Authors are influencers. “Engagement” and clicks are the things that really matter. They are in fact suggesting that the way to solve the commodification of fanfic is by “paying authors back” with stats.

Before anyone comes at me with the idea that comments aren’t just “stats,” I will clarify what I mean. There are literally hundreds of posts on tumblr alone claiming that any comment “helps” the author. Someone replies that they are shy to comment. Someone else replies that incoherent keyboard smashes, a single emoji, or the comment “kudos” are all that is required to satisfy the author, all that is required as tribute—all that is required as payment to keep this economy healthy.

I’m not condemning the comments that are keyboard smashes or emojis or a single kind word. I receive them. They make me happy. If anyone wants to leave such a comment on my fics, I’m really grateful for it. But this is not community-building. This is a transaction. In @yiiiiiiiikes25’s excellent response in the post linked at the beginning, they point out that “you have a cool hat” is something that is “perfectly nice” to hear from someone—and it is! We all want to be told we have a cool hat! But as they go on to say, what builds community is interactions that are deep and specific, interactions that are rich in quality, not in quantity. A kudos or a comment that says only ❤️are lovely things to receive, but they don’t build community.

My reaction, when I see people begging for kudos and comments as the only means by which to keep fandom community alive, is very close to @eleadore's. I want to say, “No. Readers do not need to comment or kudos. Believe not these hucksters who claim to know the appropriate method of fandom participation. Participate as you feel able, or not at all; nothing is required of you.”

I’ve been told before (several times) that I’m not qualified to participate in such discussions because I am an established author who has some fics with very high stats. It doesn’t matter that I have also been a new writer with almost no one reading my fics. It doesn’t matter that I still write in new fandoms where no one in that fandom knows me. It doesn’t matter that I, like any human being, still care about receiving recognition and attention and praise.

And maybe that’s correct. I personally don’t think that billionaires have a place in deciding the direction of the economy, and--if we're really going to consider fandom an economy--in fandom terms, if I’m not a billionaire, or even a millionaire, I’m definitely in the infamous “one percent.” So, just as no one wants to hear Elon Musk say “money isn’t everything,” maybe it’s not my place to say “kudos isn’t required, actually.”

That said, I’m not the only one who has a problem with the stats-based discourse around fandom community. However, the main counter-response to this discussion I see goes something like this: you shouldn’t be writing fic for validation. If you’re writing for attention, you’re doing it for the wrong reason. Authors should write fic because they love it without any expectation of return.

This is, in my opinion, missing the point of what is meant by fandom community.

I wrote fanfic before I knew that fanfic, as a concept, existed. I read books; I wanted them to be different; I wrote little stories for myself with new endings, with self-inserts, with cross-overs, with alternate universes. I did it for myself in the 90s. It never occurred to me that anyone else would do this, much less that people would share.

As @faiell points out—creating and sharing are two different things. I created fics for myself, but I decided to share them in the early 2000s because other people might like them, too. And of course, I wanted to hear whether other people liked them. How could I not? I might decorate my home just for me and not for anyone else’s preferences, but when people come over and say my house is nice, how can I not enjoy that? And if a lot of people think my house is nice, which encourages me to post pictures of it online, isn’t it understandable I might do so with the hope that more people will say my house is nice? And, honestly, if no one is appreciating my pictures, I probably won’t continue to go through the trouble of taking them and posting them. I’ll just enjoy my house that I decorated without sharing, the end.

When I found out there were whole fannish communities where people discussed canon and tossed ideas around about it, made theories and prompts and insights into the characters, fics they had written and recs for other fics and analyses of fics and art based on fics and fics based on art—I wanted to be a part of that, too. Now, sometimes, I write fic not out of an internal need to do so but out of a desire to participate in that community.

The idea that we write fic only for the love of it, then post it only because we possess it, is a process entirely centered on the self. It’s fandom in a vacuum. The idea that we share this thing, that we feel pleasure if someone likes it but feel nothing at all if no one says anything about it, that it’s completely okay to be ignored and unseen—that’s not what a community is either. That’s some weird sort of self-aggrandizement through self-effacement—because yes, there is often a weird kind of virtue-signaling in this kind of discourse.

I say this as someone who has virtue-signaled in that way: “some people write for stats, but I write for myself.” It’s bullshit. Sure, I write for myself, but why post it on the internet? Honestly, said virtue has a whiff of the capitalist machine, which would like you to produce for the sake of production, work for the sake of work. The noblest among us expect no recompense for that which they give!

The reason that I’m bringing this back around to capitalism is that capitalism actively works to dismantle community. The reason that folks are out here pleading for “engagement” in order to “pay back” authors for the products they give us “for free” is because people no longer even have the language to discuss how to participate in meaningful community. And frankly, how to build back fandom community, in the face of enshittification, is getting harder and harder to see.

But I do think that if we value fanfic and the fanfic community, it’s really, really not constructive to judge whether someone’s reasons for writing fanfic are valid. It’s also weird to me that it would be considered wrong that someone’s reason for sharing fanfic is because they would like to receive some recognition for it, when in fact that seems to be the most natural reason in the world for sharing something so private and vulnerable with the world.

Let’s go back to that idea of how hurtful it is to find out your fanfic is trending on tiktok without anyone from tiktok saying anything to you about your fic, or how it can be painful to find out there’s a secret discord channel dedicated to your fic. The people who respond to that with, “Ah, but you shouldn’t be writing to get attention!” are missing the point. The fic did get attention. It got lots. Attention obviously wasn't why the writer was writing--they were writing to participate, and they didn't get to. At all.

However, if your conclusion is that the author was upset because these particular stats were not accruing under this author’s profile, thereby preventing them from achieving the vaunted status of BNF and influencer—I don’t know, maybe you’re right. But I don’t think that’s why I, personally, have been hurt by these things, and I doubt it’s what hurt the people in these posts either. They’re hurt because they want to participate, and they have been systematically excluded by the very people they thought were part of the community they thought they could participate in.

Sure, if those folks from tiktok and the discord server all came and showered the author with kudos and comments that said “kudos,” the author might have felt satisfied enough with the quantity of this recognition that they would continue writing. But in the end, this still does nothing to address the problem of fandom community, in which the deep, meaningful recognition, interactions, and relationships in fandom are getting harder and harder to have and to build, as a result of how people now expect to engage in online spaces.

So, how to address the problem of fandom community? You probably read this long, long post hoping that I had an answer, and for that I must apologize. I don’t have solutions. My intent was to be descriptive, rather than prescriptive. I wished to outline the problems that I’m seeing in what was hopefully a slightly new or at least thought-provoking way, rather than offer solutions.

But, now that I’m talking about being prescriptive, maybe I can offer one suggestion, which is—maybe the solution to this isn’t about prescribing behavior. I do understand the irony in writing a prescription saying we shouldn’t prescribe people, but I’m going to write it anyway:

Maybe we shouldn’t be telling anyone the appropriate reasons for writing fanfic or for sharing it. Maybe we shouldn’t be telling readers they need to kudos or need to comment. If we’re going to go pointing fingers, we should be pointing at the institutions of capitalism that have made the internet what it is today—but I don’t think that’s going to solve the problem either.

But I do think that describing this problem, understanding what it actually is, not blaming readers for it and not blaming authors for it—I do think that helps. The discussion I linked at the beginning of this post is what I think of as the fandom I miss, the fandom that's now harder and harder to access, the fandom that is dying. That fandom was a social space where people had opinions and disagreed and went back and forth and gazed at their navels and then talked about Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

In the words of @yiiiiiiiikes25, it was a fuckin’ discussion about hats. And we’re hungry for it.

[tsuutarr]

Could you make a yandere farmer?

(THIS CONCEPT...... YES!!! I immediately thought of a yandere!farmer that also so happens to be a cow/bull hybrid hehe there's just something about someone who seems so bright and cheerful and helpful but is actually yandere)

“Hey there, neighbor!”

The last thing you expected when you began moving into your new house in the countryside iss the bright greeting of your friendly bullboy neighbor, but you can’t say you’re displeased. You give him a response that makes his mouth stretch into a pretty smile.

“It’s great to meet ya! We don’t get many new folks ‘round here.” He looks at the boxes by your feet curiously. “Can I help ya?”

You try to reject his offer, but his movements are quick and powerful. Before you know it, he’s helping you haul your heavy boxes into your home with ease. His help makes the move go by so much faster that it really, really makes you grateful.

When you try to offer him something to drink as thanks, he waves it off with a warm laugh. “Don’t mention it, cutie,” he says, “I’m always happy to help a neighbor in need.” For a brief moment, he looks contemplative, before he shakes his head. “Yer welcome to reach out whenever ya need me.”

With that, he waves goodbye to you, leaving you with happy feelings and unaware of the small cameras and mics he’s hidden in your home.

Since then, he keeps helping you, giving you eggs and produce from his farm. Whenever you’re in trouble, he’s there immediately, too. When your tires got punctured, when your lights went out, when your pipes clogged – he was there. You’re filled with so much gratitude that you don’t notice that none of your troubles are naturally occurring.

One day, while he’s helping you fix your stove, he says, “By the way, there’ve been reports of some wild animals running amok ‘round here.”

You gulp. Wild animals? What kind? Rabbit? Deer? Or… bears? Something worse?

“Don’t ya worry ‘bout a thing,” he continues, gently patting the stovetop once he’s done fixing it. “You’ve got my number and I’ve got a mean aim.” With a small smile, he makes a gun motion with his hand. “So don’t be scared to call me, okay?”

You nod, though you still feel a little terrified.

That very night, you’re awakened by loud noises outside of your house. Fear clutches your heart and you wonder if you locked your doors and windows, but are too scared to check. With trembling lips, you pull your blanket tighter over yourself, pressing yourself into your bed as you take a quick glance outside your bedside window. A black figure with glowing eyes and horns looks back at you, making you scream.

Before you know it, you’re wrapped in strong, warm arms as a kind voice rumbles in your ear. “It’ll be okay, sugar,” your kind farmer neighbor coos. “I’ve got ya.” 

Too caught up in the moment, you snuggle into him without questioning how he got into your house or how he was by your side so quickly. Nor do you recognize how eerily similar his horns look to the ones you saw on that black figure outside.

[awearywritersworld]

do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you

sukuna x reader summary: the higher ups succeed in kidnapping you and sukuna doesn't know if he'll get you back alive. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: fluff and angst. reader is kidnapped and gravely injured. depictions of blood. canon typical violence. "good girl". cursing. ft gojo. aged up!yuuji. fem!reader. not canon compliant. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: and finally folks, we've reached the climax of the series. there will only be one more official chapter after this one, so i hope this lives up to expectations. this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it's certainly better when serving as a culmination to the other chapters. i'm a little nervous posting this, so i'd love to hear your thoughts :) series masterlist // masterlist

brontë

sukuna isn't sure at first why the name is familiar, but he soon realizes that a great many of the books on your shelf are authored by women of that name, including jane eyre.

though he finds your copy of wuthering heights, written by an emily brontë, tucked away in the drawer of your nightstand, the headphones you'd asked him grab lying on top of it.

he pulls the book from its spot with care, as the cover is worn and frayed at the edges. flipping through the pages, there are quite a few quotes underlined and countless scribbles in the margins.

while you'd forced him to read jane eyre, he tucks wuthering heights under his arm of his own volition. he isn't sure if it's because you've kept this one separate from the others, or because it might give him an opportunity to know you better, or because he's positive it will make you happy, but he does it all the same.

when he steps back into the living room, he drops your headphones in your lap and takes the seat beside you, wasting no time in beginning the first chapter.

"what've you got there?" you eventually question, even though you know the answer.

he doesn't spare you a glance when he responds, "a book."

"oh, yeah? what kind of book?"

he elects to ignore you, which only serves to encourage your mischievous tone. "i thought romance novels were beneath you and your refined taste."

finally looking at you, he narrows his eyes at your childish taunt. "do you want me to read it or not?"

"of course—"

"then i suggest you be a good girl and behave yourself."

your mouth snaps shut so abruptly that your teeth click as they meet, something sukuna takes note of with a raised brow. you're thankful when he returns to reading rather than saying anything more.

so without any additional interruptions, he delves into the tragic story of heathcliff and catherine. or more precisely, the pain and destruction that follows it.

the further he reads, the better he discerns that while you seem to have a penchant for the brontë sisters, they seem to have a penchant for writing about men that are wicked and callous.

the very notion makes him chuckle.

maybe it explains why he's sitting here with your feet in his lap, while you try and fail (rather cutely) to stifle your giggles at some stupid youtube video.

"what?" you ask, taking out one of your headphones once you notice he's staring at you with a small smile.

"nothing. just enjoying the story."

the way you beam in response makes his mouth go dry.

"hah! i knew it! you're a romantic at heart."

you make a big show of pressing your hands to your chest and swooning.

"settle down there," he chides, his hand patting your thigh. "you're getting ahead of yourself."

two days later, sukuna feels that something isn't quite right. it's barely perceptible, nothing more than a minute shift in the atmosphere, but it grows more palpable as time stretches on.

yuuji's mission takes him farther from home than usual, to a little town about two hours outside of the city.

the curse he exorcises upon his arrival is much weaker than he's grown accustomed to, probably only a third or fourth grade.

yuuji doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, or at least, he pretends not to. sukuna thinks that's the problem with optimists— they don't take action quickly enough, too busy wasting their time hoping for the best.

when he returns home late that afternoon only to find your apartment door slightly ajar, his hand hesitates before pushing it open.

he discovers that the living room is littered with residuals, but it's eerie how nothing else is out of place... save for you, who is no where to be found.

in a disbelieving panic, he begins checking all the rooms, not hearing sukuna's frantic voice even though it's coming from inside his own head. "she's not here... idiot, she's not here. we have to go. we have to go now."

he eventually finds a note lying on the coffee table, but even this he hardly processes— something about surrendering himself and sukuna to the higher ups at headquarters in exchange for your life.

"listen to me, brat... you're wasting time... idiot!"

"what?" he barks abruptly.

"she isn't far, a couple blocks to the east at most—"

"it doesn't matter. headquarters is to the west. that's where we need to go."

"have you failed to comprehend a single thing i've said about the higher ups?" sukuna sneers. "they'll kill us, then kill her too. she knows too much about jujutsu society. they won't let her live, and that's if she's not... if she isn't already..."

he can't get the word out.

"no... no, they wouldn't..."

"now is not the time for your blind faith in the integrity of others." sukuna tries again and again to assume control of his vessel, and while the force behind it makes yuuji's head pound, it's no use. "for fuck's sake— please, yuuji!"

it's the first time he's heard the curse occupying his body say his actual name or use the word please, and in a strange way, it seems to ground him to some degree.

itadori yuuji has always been uncannily fast, but as soon as he makes his way out onto the street, it's like his feet aren't even touching the pavement. he appears as a blur to the people he passes by and it happens so briefly that they more than likely disregard it as a trick of the light.

the ruby decorating your neck leads them right to you, a low hum of frequency that only sukuna can hear.

yuuji comes to a stop in front of an old warehouse building. there are several wooden boards nailed across the main entrance, which splinter and fall to the earth under the impact of his impatient fist.

although the people down the hall quiet themselves upon hearing the crash, he can still sense their energy. he just can't seem to pick up on yours.

maybe sukuna is wrong? maybe you're not here after all.

"no," comes sukuna's voice, cold and hard. "she's here."

he makes his way down the stretch of hallway and to an open door where he stops, both of his feet planting firmly on the ground. everything appears to be frozen as he stares at ten sorcerers who quietly stare back.

it's clear they were not expecting yuuji, but he knows the higher ups assigned so many sorcerers just in case he did somehow figure out where they brought you.

he recognizes many of their faces and even knows some of their names, their familiarity no doubt intended to discourage him from engaging them.

after a few moments, yuuji's eyes land on your figure— motionless on the floor.

he has to admit, the higher up have put together a fairly sound plan. it's just that there's one small detail they failed to account for.

a curious and constraining sensation erupts from the center of his chest, and yuuji doesn't quite understand what's happening until he registers he's no longer the one in control of his body.

the king of curses remains completely still as he studies you from afar with a slight tilt of his head, his mind refusing to believe the scene right before his eyes.

when the gravity of the situation finally settles in, a gut churning agony blossoms in his stomach and bleeds into every part of his body. every bone. every pore. every vein.

the entirety of him burns, both inside and out.

the air in the room is heavy, overburdened with hostility and raw power. it makes the sorcerers' knees buckle and they nearly collapse beneath the immense pressure.

as sukuna takes a step toward the nearest person, the edges of his vision turn white.

he moves with deadly precision, at a speed which very few people on earth could even begin to comprehend.

it's a joke how quickly it's all over.

some of them are in pieces. others have exploded into nothingness. a few are burnt to ash.

in his haste, sukuna nearly misses the final sorcerer. he's probably the youngest of them all, cowering in the corner of the room. his eyes are wide with horror and his body shakes with fear.

"p-please, spare m-me. i didn't touch her," he sputters out.

the laugh that follows is utterly humorless. "do you actually believe that makes a difference to me?"

"i told t-them not to hurt her! i swear. that's how i got this." he points to his bottom lip, busted open and swollen. "she even told me she was sorry that i got hurt... that i didn't have to defend her."

this gives sukuna pause and his jaw clenches as he considers what you would tell him right now were you conscious.

so even as every fiber of his being screams at him to end the sorcerer's miserable, pathetic life... he restrains himself and pins him to the wall instead, pressing a forearm to his throat.

"go back to the higher ups. go and tell them that if anyone lays a hand on her ever again, i will ruin them," he spits, venom lacing each word. "i'll slaughter every last one of them. i'll level their homes. i'll take everything from them. tell them this is a promise they shouldn't take lightly."

when sukuna takes a step back, the young sorcerer crumbles to the ground. "i- i- i will."

"then get out of my sight," he growls.

returning his attention to you, his demeanor shifts in every respect.

you're going to be okay. you're going to wake up. he's going to take you home and it will be like none of this ever happened.

but when he falls to your side, his knees meeting the ground so brutally that it cracks beneath his weight, his conviction falters.

your blood is spilt onto the concrete. your skin is cold. he can't tell if you're breathing. he can't feel your heartbeat.

he determines that the gash across your side deserves his attention first and his hands tremble as they move to cover it.

he puts every ounce of power he has into his reverse cursed technique, but your eyes don't flutter and your chest doesn't rise nor fall.

his palms stain crimson, and while blood has never bothered him before, the fact that it's yours forces the bile to rise from his stomach and into his throat.

and his face is wet.

why is his face wet?

why are his lips trembling?

why is his vision blurred?

he wipes at his cheeks, leaving a trail of your blood across his face in the process.

"no," he chokes out. "please, don't do this. you're fine. please, you have to be fine. please."

the king of curses begs, but he has no idea who his desperation is directed toward. maybe it's you. maybe it's the gods. maybe it's some entity that's unknowable to him.

hell, maybe it's just whoever will listen to him. there has to be someone out there, right? something.

unbeknownst to him, and poetic in sorrowful sort of a way, his next pleas are reminiscent of heathcliff's after he learns of catherine's death.

"be with me always"

"stay with me, angel. please don't go."

"take any form"

"hate me for this if you want, for being the reason you're in this mess. you can't hate me anymore than i already hate myself."

"drive me mad"

"i'll read every single stupid romance novel on your bookshelf. i promise i'll play all of your ridiculous card games."

"only do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you!"

"just don't leave me here without you. i don't want to be here without you.

"oh, god! it is unutterable!"

"please," he whimpers.

"i cannot live without my life!"

"you're everything. you are everything. you can't leave me with nothing."

"i cannot live without my soul!"

"i love you," sukuna laments. "i love you."

he doesn't even comprehend the words that have been tumbling past his lips, because they're coming from a part of himself that he long believed to be dead and buried.

it's the part of him that can feel suffering and regret and loss and love.

it's the part of him that you've been painstakingly unearthing whenever you send a smile his way. whenever you curl into his side. whenever you press your lips to his.

and he's so undeserving of it each and every time. he's known that. god, has he known that.

he thinks bitterly of the night you'd walked to the park together hand in hand— when you told him the universe had sent you to knock him down a peg.

turns out you were wrong.

the universe gave you to him, but only so it could take you away too.

and it won't just knock him down a peg. it will fucking destroy him. it will completely and irrevocably destroy him.

this is what he does deserve.

how is it that you can be both his salvation and his undoing?

"i love you," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

it's ironic that the three words he's never once said in his entire life are the only ones he can manage in this moment.

he hears a quiet sigh escape your lips, but he knows that it's just his imagination— nothing more than the universe playing its final sick joke.

the sun is out and its rays are peeking through the window of your bedroom. sukuna thinks it's despicable.

everything should be cold and dark today.

you're lying in bed half dead and the only thing keeping sukuna's sanity intact is the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

he should go to jujutsu headquarters and deliver a slow, painful death to every single person involved in yesterday's events. then he should turn their headquarters to ash and stand there watching until the wind blows every last bit away.

but more than that, he should be by your side, so that's where he's remained.

it's been nearly a day and you still haven't woken up, so he's taken to performing reverse cursed technique on you every few hours.

yuuji had shoko come by last night and she assured him your body just needs time, but sukuna doesn't intend on taking any chances. aside from the brat, there isn't a single sorcerer he trusts.

so naturally when gojo teleports directly in the middle of your living room unannounced, sukuna moves swiftly to his feet and blocks the doorway to your room.

gojo regards him nonchalantly, hiding his surprise that yuuji is not the one to greet him. "what are you doing... out and about?"

"that's none of your concern."

"right. well, i came to check in."

"that's not necessary."

the two men watch one another carefully, before gojo eventually chuckles. "god, you actually care about her. i guess the whole soul thing should have been proof enough, but i couldn't bring myself to really believe it until now."

sukuna doesn't respond, so the other man continues. "you should know that the threat to her has been... dealt with."

"that so?" sukuna asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"mhmmm. word of this spread to the three clans and they agreed civilians have no place in jujutsu politics if it can be helped. not to mention your little... messenger. it all caused quite the ruckus for the higher ups."

"i don't think ruckus is enough to deter them." his tone makes it clear that he feels gojo is wasting his time.

"this isn't the heian era anymore, you know. the higher ups may still be the figureheads of jujutsu society, but they have little say when all three clans concur on a matter." receiving nothing more than a blank stare, he adds, "besides, i'm rather fond of her myself, so i may or may not have made certain threats of my own."

sukuna's eye twitches. "anything else you feel compelled to share before you leave?"

"can i at least see her before i go?" gojo questions, peering over sukuna's shoulder.

"if you do not value your life, i welcome you to try."

a sly grin breaks out on gojo's face.

"eager to make good on your promise of killing me from all those years ago?" he pauses, his hand coming to rest on his chin as if he's pondering something of great importance. "as much as i'd love to see you try, we shouldn't wake our precious sleeping beauty before she's ready, so maybe another time."

with that, he disappears, leaving a very irritated sukuna in his wake.

"our," he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. "that unbearable imbecile."

when he turns on his heel, however, the malicious look is immediately wiped from his face because you're awake.

you're awake and peering at him from behind heavy lids.

"hey," you greet in a small voice.

his eyes grow impossibly soft and he sits on the bed beside you, his hand moving to caress your cheek. your skin is warm again.

"hey, angel."

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @elusivemoon @annoyingstrawberryballoon @miabiar @hyeon-yi @iluv-ace @wineyoungie @vduxx @inflatabledinosaurs19 @harrystylesfan2686 @silentmajesticfox @am-the-renegade @certainduckanchor @moons-reblog @scarletrosesposts @th3-audac1ty @darlink-xoxo @ayeputita @nanmiik @namjooningera @hermxssaa @annieleonhardtsbitch @nugget-eater123 @integers @thefunbanshee @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress @luckypeacevoid @kiki17483 @ruttteerr @yourbelloved @heyohalie // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[frameacloud]

Therianthropy Day is Friday, November 15, 2024

Therianthropy Day is held every year on the first full moon of November. This year, in 2024, that falls on Friday the 15th. According to NASA, this also happens to be a supermoon, which means it’s slightly brighter than usual.

Why that date, and what is the history of that holiday? 

Therianthropy Day commemorates the first Howl, which was held 30 years ago in November 1994. A Howl is when therians meet up together in person. That was a year after the first therians started to meet up together online in November 1993. Therians first proposed commemorating it as a holiday on that date in 1996, in a conversation thread you can still see here. Based on that history, in 2016, Muninn the Raven proposed observing it as Therianthropy Day, though the first posts and community poll about it attracted little attention. I think the holiday finally really caught on in 2021, when I first saw many therians posting on social media about fun things they were doing for it.

What are therians, anyway?

If therianthropy is a new idea to you, or you want to explain it to others who are unfamiliar with it, this essay is a quick and easy to understand introduction to it. It’s available in several languages already, and more translations would be great.

Learn more about the history of the therian community by reading the Timeline of the Therian Community written by @liongoatsnake

What can we do for Therianthropy Day?

I’ve seen therians celebrate it by wearing gear (for example, a necklace with the therian symbol, or clothes with pictures of their species), meeting up with their therian friends, and howling at the moon.

Enjoy some indie games and zines about therianthropy from this hand-curated itch.io collection. Some therian highlights from that: SlumberDragon’s zine of self-care tips for animal folk, @who-is-page’s therianthropy-inspired solo journaling game Wolf In Man’s Clothing, puppygirlbelly’s interactive story I Am Dog(s), and Digital Freegans’s zines THERIANARCHY and BEAST PUNKS.

Are there days for other sorts of alterhumans too?

There are. Alterhuman Day commemorates when Lio of the Crossroads System coined that word on September 26, 2014. Otherkin Day is on July 9, commemorating when the word was coined in 1990, though Arethinn has found that the word’s origin is a little more complicated than that. Plural Events says that Plural Pride Day is the third Saturday of July, and Plural Acceptance Week is that week.

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Four - Changes

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Changes start to occur, some small, some bigger. Jessie and you navigate the first few weeks of your pregnancy.

Warnings: Vomiting. Some suggestive language.

A/N: Just fluff this time around, folks. Doting Jessie makes her first appearance lol.

Jessie and you were seated at the table eating breakfast together. With a baby on the way and your health more important than ever, Jessie took it upon herself to take over meal planning and prep. With her exposure to nutritionists over the years, her knowledge along with her now extensive research into prenatal diets, she figured this was a role suited to her.

The food you two ate was already pretty healthy - it had to be. But now, she made sure you got extra iron, protein, calcium, etc., along with your prenatal vitamins which she arranged every morning at the edge of your plate. She felt great about it all.

Minus the coffee situation. She had dutifully removed all remnants of coffee from your apartment given even the beans in the pantry made your stomach turn. She nearly gave the bag away to Janine, but quickly thought better of it when she realized the questions it may spur.

The best you and Jessie could figure, you were about six weeks pregnant. You took the test a couple of weeks ago and though small changes had occurred, for the most part things had been smooth.

Until now.

Jessie stopped mid-bite when you lifted your fork halfway, paused, staring vacantly for a few moments before setting it down rather abruptly and placing your hands at the edge of the table.

"Um." Was all you managed to say before you bolted up out of your chair and rushed to the bathroom. Jessie's fork clattered to the table as she shot up out of her seat and followed you.

She was coming around the corner when she heard you retching.

"Oh, baby," she said gently as she came up behind you and pulled your hair back as you coughed out what little you'd eaten. Your shoulders heaved and she knelt down and rubbed your back.

When you finally sat back, you skin was clammy and pale and you were short of breath. Jessie kissed your temple before rising and grabbing you a damp face cloth.

"I knew it was too good to be true," you mumbled as you patted your face. You finally opened your eyes and gave Jessie a weary look.

"Guess it's started, huh?" Jessie asked with a sympathetic expression.

"I'm going to die if I'm one of those girls that has morning sickness all the way through their pregnancy," you lamented, a sad frown forming on your face.

"Well," Jessie started, looking for the right words to say, "let's hope that isn't the case. And worst case scenario, if it is, I promise I'll take care of you all the way through."

"You better. This is your fault after all," you commented with a smirk. "You're going to hear that from here on out."

Jessie might've felt affronted, but instead she mirrored your smirk and felt a blush started to spread across her cheeks. She knew you didn't mean it negatively. It was her baby that was growing inside of you, creating all of these changes. And that concept pleased Jessie in more ways than she cared to admit.

Before her mind could derail and turn to inappropriate things, the sudden shift in your expression caught her attention, refocusing her immediately as you lurched forward and began vomiting into the toilet once more. This time dry heaving and struggling even more.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Jessie said as she rubbed your back again. When you eventually pulled back, your eyes were watery with tears.

"You better be staying home," Jessie urged. "And I'll skip practice, too."

You groaned as you leaned back against the wall. You gave a feeble shake of your head. "No. I have a stakeholders meeting this afternoon."

"Babe," Jessie scolded. You waved her off.

"I'll take the morning off," you compromised. "It's morning sickness, right?" You laughed emptily, you and Jessie both reading that it could occur any time of day.

"I'll stay home with you," Jessie repeated. You groaned again. She knew you didn't want her to miss practice, but from the expression on your face you were clearly torn. "No room for discussion. I'm staying home with you."

You whined a bit further, but relented. "Fine. But just today. We both have to just cope with this. I can't miss work all the time and neither can you."

"Let's play it by ear," she compromised. You rolled your eyes, but you leaned into her, Jessie wrapping her arms around you right away. You lay heavy against her, still breathing deeply and struggling to remain composed.

It was sometime later before you were finally confident enough to leave the bathroom. Jessie helped you up and walked you towards the bed.

"No, I want to go to the couch," you nearly whined. Jessie swallowed a laugh.

"Okay. Couch it is," she accepted.

She built you a nest of blankets and pillows, carefully arranging you into it and placing a garbage can within your reach. "What do you want to watch?" She asked as she stood poised with the remote. You heaved a sigh.

"I don't know. Anything," you said tiredly.

She put on one of your favourite movies. You'd watched it dozens of times before, but you never seemed to get bored of it. When you looked content and cozy, Jessie gave you a kiss before stepping away.

"You're coming back, right?" You asked. While your tone had been stubborn and defiant a short while ago, now it was sad and almost meek.

"Of course, babe," Jessie replied, not being able to fully hinder her laugh. She turned to you, a wave of affection and love going through her upon seeing your sad eyes peering over at her through the blankets. She spoke patiently. "I'm making you some tea. Then I'll stay with you." She gave you a sad smile when you gave a morose hum and turned your attention back to the TV.

When Jessie returned to the couch, she set down the steaming mug of tea on the table in front you.

"It's really hot. Give it a few minutes. This is peppermint, but I'm going to go out to the store later and get you some ginger tea and crackers. We'll find stuff that settles your stomach."

"Thank you," you said quietly, exhausted and almost half asleep.

Jessie studied you for a few moments, readjusting your blanket a bit before sitting down at the far end right next to your feet. She pulled out the notebook and pen she'd had tucked under her arm.

Since finding out you were expecting, Jessie started tracking all of your symptoms, their timing, severity, frequency, and had a section dedicated to questions to she wanted to ask the obstetrician at appointment in a couple of weeks. She started making notes about today, including which foods you had for breakfast. She'd work on deciphering if there was something specific in it that triggered your nausea.

Her pen stalled against the paper when she felt you nudge her with your foot through the blankets. She looked over at you in question to see your eyes were closed though you weren't asleep.

"What are you doing?" You asked in a small voice, almost pouty. Jessie dug a hand under the blankets to give your calf a light squeeze.

"Making sure I take care of you two the best I can."

------

Another couple of weeks went by and Jessie wished she could say that your morning sickness waned, but it actually worsened. She was concerned for you, of course, but based on everything she read - and a precautionary call to the doctor - it was to be expected.

All she could do was try to help you navigate and mitigate best as possible.

It was especially hard being away from you these past couple of weeks. You'd stayed home a couple of times, feigning food poisoning and a flu, but you'd insisted that Jessie go to practice and to games.

You flip flopped between pouty and needy to stubbornly independent and it was hard for her to determine which you really needed and wanted. You tended to fall more on the side of the latter, so Jessie ultimately went to Kansas for her game, but it was torture leaving you in your condition.

While away, she texted and called as often as she could, though even that proved to be a greater challenge than expected since she couldn't risk anyone overhearing her conversation. You hadn't even told your families yet. Though you were both excited to share the news, you agreed you'd wait until the first ultrasound to tell your families, then a while longer for others.

When she was home though, she was all yours.

Though things were far from pleasant for you, it seemed like you'd collectively found some coping mechanisms or small wins.

Through Jessie's keen note taking, you'd refined some strategies involving smaller meals, sometimes broken out into just snacks throughout the day. At this point, you were on a diet that was rather tailored and limited to stay inoffensive to your sensitive system. Concurrently, your cravings were reaching a peak of their own.

When you weren't sick to your stomach, you'd developed an affinity for grapes, the texture and sweetness satisfying some kind of itch for you. "The firm ones, not the gross mushy ones," you'd specifically instructed. By now, you'd even developed very particular timing around partially freezing them before eating.

Pickles weren't a thing for you - at least not yet. However, dill pickle chips were. Very much so. Jessie went on one late night adventure to the convenience store for you to get them before caving and stocking up despite the fact that she wished you'd eat something a bit healthier.

She'd made the mistake of trying to limit you and nearly had her head bit off. She kept her opinions on the chips to herself after that.

One evening you were napping, simply exhausted from being sick, balancing work, and still trying to contribute at home. Jessie finished up a few chores she'd convinced you in relinquishing to her - at least temporarily - before heading into the bedroom to check on you.

You must've been warm because you'd kicked off all the blankets and your shirt was hiked up. Jessie wordlessly approached and gingerly climbed onto the bed, laying flat on her tummy, perpendicular to you and stared at your exposed stomach. Eventually, you woke and peeked an eye open. As you registered her position, you gave her a curious look as she still silently surveyed your stomach.

"I think I can see the slightest curve here," Jessie said, eyes still trained on your stomach as she lifted a finger to point at your abdomen.

"Hey," you said mildly as you swatted her hand away. The action surprised her and she pulled back giving you a sullen expression.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, before grabbing her hand back and laying it on your stomach where she pointed. "My mind defaulted to just regular weight gain and being offended, but then I remembered, "Oh wait, I'm growing your baby" so I should show sometime soon."

Jessie hummed quietly, her sullenness forgotten as she gently stroked your stomach, studying it further as though she might discover something new. Honestly, it was a bit early to show, she was probably imagining things, but she willed it anyway.

Without realizing it, she began to speak.

"Hi little one." She felt your eyes on her and could feel her cheeks warm. She'd talked about the baby plenty, but she'd never talked directly to them before. "How are you? I know you're going through so much and just trying to find your way, but it would be really nice if you stop making poor Momma so sick."

She stole a glance at you, her cheeks growing hotter at the way you watched her in adoration. She gave you a faint smirk.

"It's not that I don't love taking care of Momma, but, I know she'd like to have a regular meal again. And not be so tired." She grinned when she heard you snicker. She continued to caress your stomach. "She's working really hard to make sure you grow nice and strong and healthy. Please try to be nice to her - she's our favourite person, you know." She cocked her head. "You can give her all sorts of trouble when you're a teenager instead."

You laughed. "I think you're going to be way more uptight than me when it comes to stuff like that, so I think you're just jinxing yourself, babe."

"Maybe," Jessie offered noncommittally as she smiled softly, still enamored at the mere thought of the life that rest below her hand and inside of you. "I can't believe that we're making a little human being," Jessie said in quiet awe.

Your hand came to rest on her forearm, your thumb slowly stroking her. "I know. It's incredible to think about."

"I love you," Jessie told you. "And I love you, too," she directed to where your baby was forming. Unexpectedly, her throat tightened with emotion. "I can't wait to meet you."

"Jess," you said gently as you began to brush her hair back. "You're going to make me cry."

"I can't help it," she said, her voice still taut as she leaned up onto her forearms to lay a soft kiss at the center of your stomach.

You continued to stroke her hair, but grew silent as you now stared absently at the ceiling. Eventually you gripped Jessie's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I love our family so much already." You took a steadying breath. "I really hope everything goes well at the appointment tomorrow. I don't know what I'll do if something's wrong."

Jessie shushed you gently as she shifted to lay next to you.

"There's no reason anything should be wrong. We've been doing everything we should." She kissed your cheek. "Just one more sleep and we'll know for sure. And whether everything's perfect or if there is something we need to address, we'll do it together."

You exhaled heavily through your nose before you turned your head to meet Jessie's gaze. Your eyes were watery, but you smiled at her.

"I love you so much."

A few minutes passed, Jessie's own eyes falling shut as she lay peacefully with you. She opened them upon hearing you give a small huff of a laugh and seeing you wear a faint smirk.

"And I'm sorry I haven't been in the mood lately," you said. Jessie frowned deeply.

"Do not apologize. Like I said, you literally have a tiny human growing inside of you and you've been so exhausted and sick lately. I just want you to feel better. I'm not thinking about anything else," Jessie told you adamantly.

Your smirk grew. "Yeah? What I saw of your shower this morning tells me otherwise."

Jessie's face immediately began to burn hot as the memory of her activities this morning played vividly in her mind. You snuck a quick kiss, somewhere between teasing and placating.

"I can't wait until I feel better so I can take care of you again," you said. Jessie began to stammer a rebuttal when you interjected. "In the meantime, you really don't have to hide it. I may be puking my guts out, but I still think you're gorgeous." You shrugged lightly. "I'll just have to imagine it's my hand around you. Or you know, another part of me."

Jessie's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she shifted onto her back releasing a groan of both exasperation and appreciation. She covered her eyes with a hand, feeling the heat radiating off of her face. She shook her head with a laugh.

"Jesus Christ."

[yaut-jaknowit]

Thinking about 'Galactic order brides' lol

Starts off as messages, pictures then meeting and marriage? Me full of giggles thinking about some bad ass yautja male who's highly respected but wants a soft little human to warm his bed and have his pups. (A dream 🩷)

Strangers

Pairings: T'a'yta (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 8674

Summary: With T’a’yta, reader was recommended by a friend to contact him. It started off small. Messages. Then it turned to pictures and facetime, then finally meeting. When you meet him, he’s thick and hulking beast. For such a big creature, he was soft.

Author Note: Okay, I may have a bit more indulgent on my end. I hope that’s okay! I really loved this idea even though I’ve never read those books before.

Masterlist

Ao3

In an office job, nothing much happens. You are used to the ins and outs that happen every single day. It’s always the same old, same old thing. You crave for something different, a different scene in your life. Then, the opportunity came.

Ze’se heard about your cry for help, this need for something or… someone in your life. Anything for a change.

“Oh, tots, he’s a doll. Super sweet. A lovable hunk, I promise you that, love,” Ze’se raves about and sends the contact information to you. She has her wrist flopped over in front of you with a knowing look on her alien features. The Yautja was a dark yellow, like spicy mustard. “He’ll see you and wanna take you home in an instant. A lot of the folks that I know wanna. But I know he will take care of you.”

A bright smile eased your features. “Thanks, Ze. I owe you one.” You greatly appreciated her help. Without her, a lot of things in your life wouldn’t be where they are right now.

The towering female Yautja barked a laugh then pulled you flush into her torso with a single hand. “Nah, sweetheart. You don’t owe me a thing. You deserve happiness and a hunk like himself will give you plenty. You know the whole shebang with how males woo us females. I have to fight them off of you when you come visit me.” Heat rushed to your cheeks. She lets you go. Your head is craned further back to find her dark green eyes.

You couldn’t stop from rolling your eyes and a huff. It seemed that way when you would visit her on her mothership. A lot of the males did look at you, nearly oogling you from a safe distance away. Ze’se didn’t let you walk the ship alone. There is controversy about oomans still within some clans. Unfortunately, hers included. That didn’t stop you from making great friends with her.

Some of those males look at you some sort of meat. You were thankful Ze’se always meets you at the docking entrance. If you want to go somewhere, she’s attached to your hip.

“Is he part of your clan?” you asked, needing to know if he was like many of her clanmates. Meaning, to be mindful of how to act around him. You trusted her and knew she wouldn’t put you in harms way. That didn’t stop you from being cautious and mindful at the same time. It wouldn’t hurt. Yautjas and oomans will forever have their differences.

She shook her massive, dome head. “Nope. I know him from a hunt a few years back. Kept in contact with him since then. If I was looking for a permanent mate, he would be first on my list. A recently turned elder. Plenty of scars.” She wiggled her brows at you. “Big muscles. Sweet talker. Great in bed.” At this point, you shouldn’t be surprised. Your eyes jumped open. “That male knows how to please, let me tell you that.”

A groan left your throat as you pushed away from her. The dark mustard yellow Yautja laughed and snorted. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. Mostly. But like I was saying. Great male. He’s got lots of good offspring. High on the pole. His name is well out there, even on Yautja Prime. If you want to be cared for and pampered, I can see him taking that roll. I should know.” You dragged a hand down your heated face. God, this woman was going to be the death of you.

This is what you loved about your relationship with Ze’se, the easy going with her. “Okay, okay! I understand. He knows how to fuck. I get it!” Another groan. She giggled again and pushed against your shoulder.

“You’ll know soon enough. He’ll… oh, what’s that saying? Wine and dine you to the fullest before he’ll-“ You reached up and clamped your hands over her moving mandibles. Anything to get her to stop talking about sex! Right in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Ze! I sweat to everything unholy. Please, I get it. He’s good. I got it. I think everyone on this street knows how good he is!” you scold her and while pleading with her to stop talking about that. Some heads turned your way but they all kept going their own path. Thankfully.

Both of her upper mandible quirked up. “Eheh, good. I’m glad. You have the info. I’ll get out of your hair and let you have some special time with him.” She rubbed her temple against yours. You smiled at the gesture and watched her spin on her heel. Ze’se struts away from you, hips swaying with each step. It gathered a lot of attention from the surrounding people. A move you knew was purposeful.

With a roll of your eyes, you turn around as well. The day was getting late. After a long day of work, all you wanted was to go home and rest. The resting would have to wait. You would shoot this new Yautja a text before falling asleep. In the morning, you get to see what his response is. You really hoped Ze’se was right about this guy. There has been something missing from your life. Maybe it was someone special, that’s all you need.

Once the front door was closed and locked, shoes came off. Your keys were hung up on the rack. The warm atmosphere of your apartment greeted you like any other day. You strolled in and head towards your bedroom for a change of clothes.

Your work clothes had been replaced with a comfortable pair of shorts and a oversized shirt. Then, you collapsed onto the bed, arms spread wide. Today had been eventful. Not only from Ze’se, but from the amount of work they put onto you. Ze’se, bless her heart, has tried countless times to get you to come onto the mothership with her. Become a hunter like herself. But, you liked your room, your job, the comfort of humanness. There’s none of that on their ships or even their home planet.

It's always kill or be killed. You weren’t about that life.

But… with the way that Ze’se explicitly talked about T’a’yta, he was different. To pamper you? God, you could only wish for that. For a man to kneel before you was a wish come true. You really hoped he was somewhat like that. Not like the other ravenous males you’ve seen up close and personal. Far too many time to count.

You took out your phone and stared at the few notifications on the screen. Nothing of importance. Ze’se had sent his contact number. You saved it as a contact then went to the section to message.

And that’s where you faltered. You didn’t know how to start the message. Oh my god, you didn’t know how to text a random guy! Were you this hopeless?! You thumped your head against the bed with a groan. It had to be simple. Introduce yourself, ask about the weather, tell him stuff.

Yeah… you were hopeless.

An entire hour passes by. Text box was empty. You’ve tried to type out quirky greetings, polite ones, even just a simple introduction and who gave you his number. Each time, you’s quickly gone back. The main reason you think you’re struggling was you didn’t know him. You didn’t know his personality. If he likes funny jokes or something serious. All you got was his name and how well he was in bed.

A sigh of defeat left you. How could you advocate for yourself? How can you even put yourself out there for him? Male Yautjas like a confident female? All the females know their worth is high. They strut their stuff. And here you were, mauling over how to send a greeting to him.

In frustration, you thumped the edge of your phone against your forehead. You took in a few deep breaths before typing out a simple introduction and that Ze’se gave you his number. Then, you told him you were interested in getting to know him. You sent it. No regrets. You swallowed hard. Okay, maybe a little regret.

Before you could get overwhelmed, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up. You jolted out of your thoughts to look at the screen. T’a’yta had messaged back. Holy shit, that was quick.

“It’s good to finally hear from you. Ze’se has not stopped talking about you. I, too, would be interested to getting to know you,” T’a’yta messaged. You flipped onto your stomach and squealed, legs kicking the bed. This was finally your chance. With the phone, you could have tons of confidence compared to in personal.

From there, the two of you texted far into the night. Despite the knowledge of having work in the morning, you continued to text. This was an opportunity you weren’t going to pass up. A hunk of a Yautja to bend over backwards for your needs. Okay, that sounds bad. All you want is to be cared for. Is that a bad thing?

Right off the bat, the two of you were chatting. You started off by talking about your hobbies. What you liked to do in your free time. You hoped it interested him. The hobbies maybe boring but they made up you. What made it all the better was him digging further into those said hobbies. He wanted to know more about. He wanted to find out what made you tick from the inside out. You were giddy like a school kid with their crush. But after so long without a lick of luck in this vast universe, you could say you were desperate. Could you be blamed though?

When it came to his turn about hobbies, he didn’t jump straight in the stereotypical hunting for Yautjas. You felt a little bad about thinking he would only talk about that.

One of his favorites was watching nature. That seem similar to hunting. But, he appreciates nature at his core. He maybe a hunter but he is more than a trophy hunter. Another thing he enjoys doing is visiting museums, mainly human museums. He wants to know more about humans – or oomans. T’a’yta likes history. He likes learning. Even in his older age, he acts like a sponge. There is no one who knows everything. There is always something to be learned. Even to the ancients in his cultural.

You glanced at the time and gasped. There was only four hours before you had to report back to work. That meant less than three hours for sleep. Worst of all, you didn’t to stop. The talking, er messaging, had gone so well. You felt bad when you texted him you had to go to bed. Or else you might lose your job in the morning.

That’s when you got to see a glimpse of what Ze’se was referring to this entire time.

“If you lose your job, you can always come and stay with me.” My god. The butterflies in your stomach went wild. Ze’se maybe crazy but, you glad she wasn’t lying about his innuendos.

Of course, you had to fire back with something of the same line. “Is that an offer?” If he was already willing to take care of you right from the get-go, you were falling in love. He’s such a sweet talker.

 “I would love to take care of such an adorable thing such as yourself.” He was so cheeky! Your cheeks were heated with the fire that raced through your veins. Your thumbs shook, unable to type out a message quick enough. “Have I flustered the sweet, little human?” A shaky breath passed your dry, cracked lips. You were in it now.

It’s like he could see through the screen and read your expressions. You lowered your head and pressed it against the screen for a moment.

When your phone buzzed again, you lifted up your head, eyes snapping open at the message. “Paya, I wish I could see the look on your face. Since you can’t answer me. You clearly are a fluster mess. I would love to know what my words could do to you in person.” You may have never heard his voice before but you knew that last part was meant as a growl.

Still, you didn’t know the proper response was. The time above the messages screaming at you to go to bed. You ran a hand through your hair before finally finding words. “Maybe one day we can. I’d be more than happy to see the effect too. Good night!” The phone was tossed off to the side. You screamed into the mattress and kicked the bed.

That was a cringy way to end the conversation, but you couldn’t handle it anymore. The texting should’ve kept you safe, a nice façade since he can’t see you. Clearly, that had failed. He still got to you.

Now, you were more desperate to talk to him. There wasn’t time left in the night though. With one more glance at your phone, you got settled down in bed to get whatever sleep you could make up.

For a few weeks after that, every moment you had free, the two of you texted each other. Fleeting seconds while at work to pull out your phone and shoot a message back to him. Anything to keep him on the hook. You were really liking him so far. All green flags.

On one night, you became a little risky. For the occasion, you decided to dress up. You put on all the gimmicks to look as presentable as possible. The best clothing was pulled from the back of your closet and thrown on. A little dolling up had you picture perfect.

In front of a mirror, you put on a small pose with a smile to brighten your features. The picture was snapped. You were swift to send it to him before you could decide to back out. From there, you sat down on the couch, still dressed up, and played on your phone.

It was less than a minute when you got a response back. “By Paya’s name, you looked wonderful, little one.” You squealed and loudly cheered to yourself for getting another win. Both of your fists pumped into the air. It was working. You were actually getting a guy to be interested with you. And, he was staying interested in you.

“I think it’s your turn.” And boy, aren’t you glad you asked for a picture of him in return.

You must have caught him in the middle of hunt. The fact he was letting himself be distracted by you while hunting was another thing you’ll think about later. He took it from an angle looking down at himself. Condensation built up on his dusty brown scales. He looked to be panting, mandibles flared wider to allow the extra air into his lungs. Like any other Yautja, he was built strong. But, like Ze’se had mentioned, he was bulky, a hunk of muscles. He could easily lift you up.

Your bottom lip was caught between your dull teeth. The taste of blood flared on your tastebuds but you didn’t care. Your eyes roamed over the picture far too many times to be respectful. This made you no better than a dog on the street. But, you couldn’t help it. There was something about him both physically and mentally that you were heavily attracted to. This only solidified it more.

Plenty of scars lined his scales. Stories of past hunts that always lead to his triumph of not meeting their god of death. You bite your lip harder.

“Seems like I caught you in the middle of something.” You couldn’t believe the courage to make an innuendo to this man!

Conversations and pictures like this continued on as well. Three weeks passed of friendly talk and some talk of hidden messages. Neither of you coming out to say it straight to the other’s face. A little dance the two of you enjoyed happily.

It was him who offered it. He wanted to finally meet you in person. For someone who was rarely around other Yautjas besides Ze’se, you were nervous. There wasn’t a way to hide behind your phone this time. You couldn’t dance around this. It was bound to happen. You knew it.

So, you swallowed down your nerves and said yes. The meeting place became a little shop a few blocks away from your apartment. Close to comfort. Anything to give you the confidence you needed to face him. It wasn’t a game to you. Far from it. But, you could play a good façade over the phone. When it came to meeting someone personally, it was… that’s where your courage goes right out the window.

When the day came, your nerves were jittering your entire body. It was hard to stand still in front of the mirror to see if your outfit looked perfect. It had to be perfect. You needed to be perfect. This is where everything could go wrong. You card a hand through your hair then glanced down at your phone.

About five minutes were left before you had to go out that door and meet him face to face. There was no backing out of this now. You made a deal, a promise to go there. With a deep breath to fill your lungs, you marched out the front door early. It was best to be early than late. Who knows if there’s traffic. Plus, you can pick out the seat you want in the small restaurant. That way, you can look professional.

The streets of the city you lived in weren’t the best. Every corner you took wide and carefully watched your back. Once you made it to the safety of the restaurant, you find the place empty of patrons. There are a few employees meandering around though. Your brows furrowed at the sight. This place was busy everything time you tried to come here. T’a’yta said he would make the reservation for the two of you. But this was strange.

Someone noticed your entrance and came up to you with a smile. He said your name in a questioning tone. You dipped your head, unsure of the whole situation. “Follow me,” said the host. He didn’t take a menu with him and began to walk away. You were timid to shadow him before scampering after him like a scared puppy.

The restaurant wasn’t fancy by any means but it was still nice. On the inside, every chair and seat all besides one had been shoved to the side. The lights had been lowered to a romantic setting. Flowers and balloons were decorated the space. You stopped in your tracks and took in the area. It was more than anything that anyone has done for you. Did… oh my god. T’a’yta did this for you! Your jaw dropped. You looked like an fearful, cornered animal. What kind of Yautja was he?

Ze’se said his name was up there on the totem pole but… you weren’t expecting this! He had to have bought out the entire space. That had to cost at least a thousand dollars. Did he seriously have that kind of money to fork over? All for you too.

The call of your name snapped you from your scrambled thoughts. You shook your head and looked over at the source.

In the middle of the room was a lone table and two chairs. One chair was already occupied by the familiar sight of T’a’yta. Despite being feet away from you, he was still a massive form that easily consumed the chair. A smirk graced his handsome features. He gracefully stood from his seat and walked around it.

By god’s grace. When he got close to you, he towered over you as the average height of a Yautja. You reached his midriff and had to tilt your head back to find those bright eyes. They glowed lightly in the dark, nearly a beacon to find the alien.

Your heart thundered loudly in your chest. It was on the verge of leaping out and landing straight into his hands. The sound was so loud to yourself, he had to hear it himself. You swallowed hard and pulled on a brave smile. T’a’yta offered a single hand to you, palm facing up. You gingerly placed your own into his and watched the way it was consumed. He’s massive.

T’a’yta eyes you for a second longer before gently leading you towards the table. With no other option, you let him guide you. The dusty brown Yautja pulls out the chair for you. You glance at him for barely a heartbeat before taking a seat. He easily pushes you in then returns to his own seat. Your tongue darts out to lick at your dried lips.

The Yautja is dressed in somewhat normal clothing. He’s not in full blown hunter gear, something you had thought about him being in. A sight you’ve seen a few times already from the pictures of him he’s sent. His clothing seemed to be meant for celebrations or gatherings. Causal clothing. The type Ze’se would be seen wearing as well.

And he looked good in it.

Both of your hands were placed in your lap, head slightly tilted down. Being in his presences was a one-eighty from causally talking to him over the phone and messages. There was no hiding from that piercing gaze he roamed over your form.

A chuff came from the male. He laxed back in the too small of chair that squeaked under the shift of weight. “There is no reason to be tense, my dear.” If it wasn’t for your locked muscles, your jaw would’ve dropped at the deep rumble of his voice. You already knew Yautjas voices, no matter the sex, were a low timbre. His though, was thick as honey and drew you in instantly.

He didn’t miss the way your breath hitched when he spoke, the way your eyes twitched slightly more open. One of his upper mandible quirked up. You noticed the move and swallowed down the lump in your throat. A deep breath was pulled into your lungs.

“S-so, I not-tice the place is-is empty,” you attempted to start off the conversation for the night. T’a’yta stayed in his relaxed position, head tilted off to the side. He watched you lazily with an adored look in those vibrant eyes of his.

His head dipped down. “Yeah. Did that myself. I didn’t want us to be interrupted by anyone. I wanted to see you all alone.” Words that shouldn’t been a red flag by anyone else but the way he says in that voice of his. It made it sound like he was wanting to protect you from prying eyes. He wanted you safe.

That meant you were right. He had bought out the place for the night. How could this man have that kind of cash lying around? Who did Ze’se set you up with? A millionaire? Did she seriously think you could pull someone like that? A small and frail human in the presence of a Yautja. Humans were ninety-nine percent of the time seen as such to these massive hunters of the universe. That included yourself.

Maybe you really had gone way over your head.

Your hands played with each other, hidden underneath the table. It helped you from the rest of your body from fidgeting and letting him know how much of a mess you were. The way his eyes narrowed slightly already told you he knew.

“That m-must have been a-a lot.” If he wasn’t in front of you, you would’ve smacked yourself silly for such a stupid comment. This is why you preferred texting. It allowed you to think of the words before they came spilling from your lips.

He chuckled. A deep, timbre sound falling from his alien mouth. His hips shifted. Your heartrate picked up again. The sight was enticing. He brushes off the comment with a flick of his hand. “It was nothing. I’m glad we get to finally meet in person. I’ve been waiting to catch your scent.” After being around Ze’se for some time, you’ve learned that scent to a Yautja was important. You didn’t take it in a weird way. Instead, you simply nodded your head. With the change of subject as well, you were thankful. There wasn’t a chance you could fully steer this ship without his aid.

“Y-yeah, me too-too. Not the scent part!” You were quick to cover that. “Humans don’t do that. But, I don’t find it weird. I know it’s a thing for Yautjas. I’m fine with it!” Oh my god, the word vomit that came spilling from your loose lips. Worst of all, you hadn’t even had any alcohol in your system. Here you were, acting like a complete fool. You wished for the floor to open and swallow you hole.

Heat blazed to life on your cheeks. You groaned and covered your face with your hand, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. “I’m so sorry.” That’s all you can say to cover up your failure.

The chair groans under his shift of weight. The table dips slightly in his direction. You felt the heat of his palm cupping your jaw. Another hand wrapped thick digits around your wrist. With a gentle tug, he pulled your hand loose, but you found every other surface in the place more interesting. There was without a doubt you had ruined this first meeting with him.

A soft purr-like sound came from his massive bulk. You weren’t expecting it. Your eyes flickering up in surprise for a moment. The second they met his though, they were back down to the ground or the table or your lap. The purr increased in volume. It vibrated the air and sent tingles racing up your arms. It was a powerful weapon against you.

All of your tense muscles began to loosen as if he commanded it. Both of your arms rested on the table. He gently held up your head and gave a soft tug towards him. Your gaze found his again. But, you didn’t look away.

“There’s that sweet, little ooman I’ve been wanting to see,” he cooed to you and kept your attention on him. T’a’yta was a master at calming you down from the height of your embarrassment. “Keep those lovely eyes of yours on me. I want to see every expression you make, little one.” You melted against his touch and let yourself be nearly controlled by him. All you could do was dumbly nod.

“Good, such a good ooman. Now, I want you to pick out anything on the menu. Anything you want. I don’t care the price or whatever.” Your tongue darted out lick at your lips before nodding again. T’a’yta hummed and paused for a second before letting go of your chin. You leaned back to a normal sitting position, eyes still on him. The dust colored Yautja smirked then gestured at the menu.

That shook you back to your normal mindset. Your face felt like it was on fire. The way you had just melted at the velvet of his words and soft touches. You took the opportunity to glance at the menu. His gaze had done the same. Relief flooded your system afterwards.

There were only a handful of times you’ve been here over the years. One, it was hard to get in due to how busy. Two, your limited time with your job. Three, a lot of the items on here weren’t something an office worker could easily afford. You came here when all three of those things lined up. That’s once a in blue moon. But now, he was offering you anything on the menu. Including the most expensive steak you’ve ever seen before. Not that you go out very often.

Who was he? A question that kept popping up throughout his whole interaction with him.

As you grazed the menu, your eyes kept flickering up to look at him. The darker lighting gave him an aura that was nearly scary. Yet, there was something deep inside of you that knew this man would never, in a million or trillion years, harm you in any sort of the way.

Money may no be an issue but you didn’t want to seem like a gold digger. The reason you chose this place was because had lined up perfectly. You could pay for your regular meal. Yet, it seemed like he was more than willing to cover every cost.

There was a nagging thought in the back of your mind though. Surely, you weren’t going to make him pay for your food. You liked it when things were equal to the best of everyone’s abilities.

To play it safe, you decided on a simple salad. Plus, eating healthy was a good thing too.

The menu was set down onto the table again. In time for a waiter to come to the table with a pen and paper. “Hello! Welcome to our establishment. And many thanks to you sir T’a’yta for this. We appreciate your company!” He’s cheery with a bright smile on his face while talking to the dust colored Yautja across from you. “Is there anything I could start the two of off with?” The waiter glances between the two of you.

T’a’yta gestures for you to start off. Suddenly, you feel on the hot seat all over again. You bite at your tongue, eyes flickering down to find the drinks. Pepsi products. You tell him what kind of soda you are wanting then peered at T’a’yta. The Yautja had a brow arched.

“You are more than welcome to appetizers. Like I said, you can get anything you want. My treat.” Seriously, you should take his word and go out. There was that same nagging idea in the back of your head that prevented you. You shake your head and busied yourself with looking at the menu for the moment.

His eyes were still on you for a few beating seconds as he ordered his own drink. “Bring every appetizer you have as well.” Your head jerked up, eyes snapping wide. He did not!

The waiter’s own eyes showed off the whites of them. There had to be about ten appetizers. T’a’yta just ordered all of them!

“It will take some time for the cooks to prepare that big of an order. If that’s alright with you?” he asked the gentlemen across from you. A lax look was plastered to T’a’yta’s features. Like the time or the price was the last thing on his mind. His eyes were glued to your fidgeting, surprised form. His inner jaw muscle tightened to hold back his need for action.

“Yes, I understand.” T’a’yta doesn’t care. He’s polite to the worker though. Jesus Christ. You were starting to regret this whole meeting at a semi-fancy restaurant. What if he expects you to pay the bill after he rents the place out? It would take a small loan to pay all of this off. No, you wouldn’t take a bite. All you were having was your salad. Cheap and healthy. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a gold digger or a slob for junk food. Not that you pig yourself out on them, but you still have them as snacks.

With one more look at T’a’yta, the waiter takes his leave with the notes of drinks and thoughts of every appetizer on his mind.

Once he retreated to the back part of the building, you leaned forward. “I’m honestly fine! I-I don’t need to eat that much,” you argued with the hunk of muscles. He laughed from his throat and rested an elbow on the table before leaning forward. T’a’yta placed his chin in his palm.

“If you won’t let me spoil you the way I want, I will do it myself. I’m a Yautja of my word. Eat, get, ask for anything you want. I will get it for you.” Is this normal for a Yautja? You knew the males like to woo the females with trophies and prowess. Since you were human, it was different. Clearly, he had done his research and changed tactics to get the same results.

You let out a shuttering breath and sat up straight. Once more, your gaze dropped to the table. The tips of your ears burned. Your lips were pressed into a tight line for the time it took you to maul over your thoughts. “Fine. Only a little. I’ll only have a little,” you relented to his forwardness. When he wanted something, he got it by the looks of it. Man, was he stubborn in ways you weren’t expecting.

That same smirk returned to his smug features. “Good. I’m glad to see you’ve come to reason, little one.” T’a’yta picks up his head and lets both of his arms rest on the table, one resting on top of the other. “Now, how was your day? I hoped this morning’s weather wasn’t dab on your mood.”

It shocked you a little. You didn’t expect him to know this morning’s weather. From what you know, he lives on his own ship and traverses the universe, loner style. Maybe he had come to check out the city before coming here for dinner.

At the same time, you were thankful for a change of subject. Something to ease you back into a comfortable atmosphere.

“It was good.“ You nodded your head. “I only had to run a couple of errands this morning.” From there, the two of you talked about whatever you could get your minds on. Day-to-day stuff from this last week, even to his latest hunts and the skull he brought back. He showed you the latest scar that said creature had given him. It was small but had nicked an artery. T’a’yta could’ve died.

Thirty minutes passed before three waiters showed up at your table. One had pushed together two other tables to yours and gave amble room for every plate. A few small extra plates were given to you. Then, they were off back towards the kitchen.

Eleven appetizers. There was more than enough for a family of twenty to enjoy. Yet, there was only the two of you.

T’a’yta didn’t move and kept his eyes on you. “Go on and enjoy, little one. Do not be shy.” He returned to his lax position and decided to take in the space finally in your presence. You were thankful not to have his overbearing, all seeing gaze on you.

Everything before you looked so good. You hungered for it all. Yet, again. That same thought. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek while carefully plucking pickings from a few plates. Not even half of the small plate had been filled. That’s when his gaze returned to you. T’a’yta gave you a deadpanned look and positioned himself to sit up.

Deadly, sharp, black claws plucked some sort meat off of an appetizer and offered it to you. He held it directly in front of your mouth. You nearly shrunk away before opening your mouth and taking the meat between your teeth. Once it was gone, he swiped a thumb along your bottom and wiped the cooked chicken juices along the soft skin. It forced you to lick away the excess. “Good, good. How did that taste?” His tone was teasing, nearly taunting you.

You swallowed the piece down after chewing. “Um, it’s-it’s good. I like it,” you answered truthfully and looked at him with timid eyes. The giant hummed then picked up a different appetizer that you hadn’t placed on your plate. Once more, he brushed the piece against your lips and coaxed you into eating it as well.

This continued to happen until every single plate had been tried from. He was satisfied then. T’a’yta used a napkin to wipe his fingers cleaned and made his own plate up. You were slightly dazed and watched him without much of a thought in your head. He grinned.

“How was everything?” His deep voice brought you out of your thoughts. You blinked away the haze and truly looked at him this time.

“Amazing. Their food is always phenomenal!” you explained with a happy alit tone to your voice. A hum tumbled from his chest. T’a’yta takes his own bite.

“I do have to agree. This is very good.” A few more pieces are thrown into his mouth. You were used to the way Yautjas eat with their lack of lips. “Is this place your favorite restaurant to go to?” he questions once the last bite was swallowed.

Your head nodded. “Yeah, when I can visit that is.” Some more of the food on your plate was consumed. Today was pure luck to get the day off from work. Your work rarely likes to give time off. Despite that fact, it was decent pay. All the necessary things were paid for. Which meant you had nothing to complain about.

The Yautja paused and looked at you. “And what’s stopping you?” A sip from what looked to be an expensive drink tilted his head back slightly. Yet, his eyes didn’t find something else. “This place is great.”

That’s a statement you could get behind of. “Well, it is.” Your hands became animated with every word you said. “But, I’m a hard worker. What time I do have, I don’t like to spend it waiting in long lines for a seat here. I didn’t even think you would be able to get a reservation here when you had asked for a place to meet up at.” Those were truthful words. Since the universe had been kind enough to let you find a man such as himself, you had tested your luck. It came evident there was more than meets the eye with T’a’yta.

His mandibles tighten over his inner jaw. “Are you happy you were able to visit the place?”

“Yes, I am. I’m beyond thankful for this opportunity. I didn’t say it before but thank you.” You smiled softly at him and reached across the table to grab his hand. His warmth was a stark difference compared to your own body. He would make to be a perfect heater in the dead of a Montana winter. He squeezed your fingers back in the same gesture.

“There is no thanks needed. I’m glad to have met you and have this opportunity to do this,” he spoke in a low tone,

Before either of you could speak again, the waiter came back. “Are we ready for the main courses?” he questioned and got out his pen and paper again. This time, he didn’t seem as ready to write things done.

“We are.” T’a’yta looked at you again to start off the process. Oh, shit. Right. You let go of his hand to tilt the menu up towards your face.

You cleared your throat and gaze up at the waiter. “I’ll just have the house salad.” Despite his constant reassurance to get whatever you wanted, you still went with the cheapest thing. You couldn’t stop from peeking at T’a’yta. Another deadpanned look was plastered to his alien features. He blinked at you slowly then pointed down to the menu.

“Don’t make me order the entire menu, little one.” You made a small, high pitch squeak at the hidden warning. Clearly, he wasn’t joking around. You huffed and placed the sheet back down on the table.

“Sorry, scratch that. I would like the salmon please.” T’a’yta grunted his approval at the change.

“Hm, for myself…” he trailed off and let his gaze roamed the page. “I’ll go for the steak, the special soup, and some pasta. I’ll let you choose what type. Oh, and bring some Moscato, please.” The waiter scratched everything down on his paper then grabbed the menus from you. Then, he was gone, scampering to the back of the house.

A quiet scoff left your lips. “There was no need for that,” you pouted and crossed your arms. T’a’yta laughed in amusement at the sight before him. His hand reached out to pinch your chin between his thump and pointer finger.

The alien held you there for a breath’s moment. “Yes, there is. I will show you there is no need to shy away from letting me spoil you. I crave to show you that I can take care of you. Such a sweet, little ooman in my grasp.” That’s when you tucked your head to the side, embarrassment flooding your system. He hummed again but let you be.

All of the appetizers were pulled away to make room for the incoming plates of dinner. The same waiter from before dropped off the ordered plates. Your salmon looked delicious sitting in front of you. Steam was wafting off the slab of meat.

“Aren’t you glad you got that instead of a meek salad?” T’a’yta teased you with a smug glint in those bright eyes of his. You bristled at his words and pressed your lips into a tight line. He may be right but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of your agreement. He can’t blame you for being nervous. Who wouldn’t be in your shoes?

Only a shrug was your answer. You dug into the salmon and attempted to savor the wonderful flavor that burst to live over your taste buds. This had to be the best salmon in your entire life. A hum left you while you smiled happily. Yeah, he was right. He knew it as well. Smug little dick. You kept your gaze down casted to the plate in front of you the entire time.

From the edge of your vision, you watched him eat his own three plates of food he ordered. At least he wasn’t shoving any of those down your throat the same way he was with the appetizers. Not that he was in the wrong. You did want an appetizer but felt like you shouldn’t. T’a’yta showed you he didn’t care. Not one bit.

This time around, there wasn’t any trouble. He consumed his three platefuls while you ate your own without his assistance like the first time.

The entire plate was finished off. You sat back a little and sipped at the wine he had shoved your way. Another pointed look in your direction. Again, he’s not afraid to show his cards and what he can do. It wasn’t abusive or wrong or a bad way of forceful. Actually, it was sweet. He wanted you well fed and dined in a romantic, caring manner.

Wined and dined.

Exact words Ze’se had used earlier. How right she was.

T’a’yta had consumed his portion as well and relaxed back into the creaking seat. You were still surprised it was holding up to his massive size. The muscles that lined his body thick from years of training and hunting. His own hand dwarfing a wine cup filled halfway with the red liquid. The same wine you sipped as well. You weren’t a wine drinker by any means but it was delicious nevertheless.

When the waiter came over to clear the plates, T’a’yta handed his card then whispered something to him. The poor man’s widened and flickered down to the Yautja. He rapidly nodded his head and thanked T’a’yta. Then, his sped nearly doubled. Everything was pulled away and left the table with just your glasses.

A short purr poured from T’a’yta’s throat. A mechanism you learned quickly helped calm your racing heart all over again. He smirked when you leaned back into the seat. The Yautja himself rested his elbows on the table. “How was that, little ooman? Did it meet your expectations?” The purring stopped but it already had done its job.

In a slightly dazed mindset, you nodded your head. “Uhuh. Lots. This place is the best,” you reiterated your likeness of the place and took another sip of your wine. You’ve never been pampered like this in your life. This man, this male had treated you better than any man, woman, or person ever. “I’m glad you agreed to this place.”

“I could care less about the meeting place. Money isn’t a problem. What matters is if you had a good time and you’re full.” He leaned in over the table to enter your space. “I won’t tolerate you trying to skimp out of on eating. In my presences, eat what you want until you’re full, alright? I’m more than capable of taking care of you.”

Shit, he really was pulling out the whole wooing thing that male Yautjas do. But he had changed to woo a human instead.

“But-“ you raised your finger to argue with him. The Yautja narrowed his eyes on you, mandibles pulling tight over his mouth. Immediately, you pressed your lips tightly together and looked down at the dark wood of the table.

He grunted then rose to his feet. Right as you were about to follow suit, he walks around and pulls out your seat. A hand is offered to you. You take it and let him guide you to your feet as well. This was another reminder of how large he was compared to you. He easily towered over your human form. You couldn’t help the bite on your lower lip, eyes roaming up and down his figure for only a moment.

“Shall we?” T’a’yta motions towards the door in a grand gesture. You giggled and nodded your head. The argument leaving your system.

The two of you go to the front of the building. The waiter from before was there and finishing up the transaction just in time. He looks a little nervous before handing back the card and receipt. Your curiosity got the better of you. You attempted to peer at the numbers on the receipt but T’a’yta was quicker and smarter than you. The paper and card are tucked away in one of his pockets. You two bid the waiter a goodbye and head out into the slightly chilly air.

T’a’yta gingerly curls his arm around your shoulder and tugged you close to the warmth of his body. You sighed in content at the feeling. He rumbled his amusement, thumb rubbing against your shoulder.

One thing you noticed on the way back. For a city that’s dangerous at night, not one person gave you a second glance. Many didn’t even look either of you in the eye. The dust colored Yautja kept at your pace the entire time. He was glued to your side.

It only happened once but someone had walked a little close to the two of you, nearly shoulder to should with you. A threatening growl erupted from the elder’s throat. Thundering and powerful. A warning to get away from what he possesses. You could moan as the sound traveled down south and sat in the pit of your belly. You had to hear that more.

Your key fits into the door of your apartment. T’a’yta is at your back, guarding you from the dangers that may appear at a moment’s notice. You don’t mind. Actually, you welcome the comfort and protection. It hasn’t been something you felt in a long time. You craved the need as much as water for a dehydrated person at the sight of an oasis.

The door opened with a welcoming squeak and let him see what conditions you lived it. It wasn’t bad. It was an apartment that was well lived in though. A slight mess but that’s what made it home.

“Well, this is it.” You had spun around to tilt your head back to look the male in those bright eyes of his. They were gorgeous to the point you could get lost in them. You timidly played with your hands between the two of you. “I-I appreciate everything today. It was an amazing date. And-and if you… want, we could go on another?” It was you who had taken the responsibility to offer up a second date. “I’ll pay for it next time.” Of course you had to. It was your turn.

A growl left his towering frame. Not a threat like before but an easy warning. T’a’yta stepped into your space which forced you to take one back. This happened two more times before he crowded you against the closet door at the entrance of the apartment. A whimper fell from your softly parted lips.

One hand rested above your head while the other gripped your chin. The touch forced your head back. This close and personal with T’a’yta allowed you to see all the tiny details of his face. A face of an elder who’s fought his battles and won his wars. A life well lived. The Yautja who began to purr, tongue flickering out to taste the air.

“I had a wonderful time myself, little one. But, if you think I’d ever let you pay for a single thing while on a date, you had me wrong from the beginning.” The course pad of his thumb dragged across your lip. Your tongue darted out and lapped once at the sharp talon on the tip. His grip tightened nearly painfully. “Paya, it’s taken every single ounce of will to hold back. You are perfect. The little ooman who I’ve been needing to have.”

“Someone to warm my bed and bare my pups in my olden age. I’m letting you know now of my wants. If you don’t wish to continue, tell me now. I will disengage. But… if you give me every right, all the power. I will make it my duty that you will never have to lift a finger again. And the only time you’ll break a sweat is when I breed you and you give birth. Any other time, you will be pampered like royalty,” he promised to you directly.

Your breath got caught. His words. They were so dark, so beautifully crafted. He wasn’t afraid to state his wants. There was no dancing around the bush. T’a’yta was a Yautja would knew what he wanted in his life.

That want was you. The perfect human to bed with, make his royal partner and treat them as such. He growled and inched closer. “Answer me, little one.”

The lump in your throat was swallowed down. “Yes, I want that too.”

Relief sagged his shoulders. He nearly dropped his weight against you. Instead, he buried his mouth into the crook of your neck and took in the source of your scent. “I’m beyond glad you agree. It would be hard to rid my mind of every little thing I love about you. I will cherish you the way you deserve.” T’a’yta pulled away to find your gaze once more. “But I will do this the ooman way. I have the patience of a seasoned hunt. I can take my time and win you over in the manner you’re most comfortable in.”

If there was anyway to love this male anymore, you would find the way. He was beyond respectful of you and letting you have all the control in the world. This was just your first face-to-face meeting with him. This was how he was acting in the first place? Call it too soon, but you were already in love with him. There wasn’t a single red flag you could find throughout the whole getting to know him process.

For the first time, you reached up and cupped his jaw in your hands. The texture of his scales wasn’t rough or scratchy, yet there was a clear difference between the two of you. A difference that didn’t matter to you.

You may not be the same species, but love will always find a way.

[sytoran]

𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟏

you, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. now, the goddess of lust, natasha, is going to grant you a wish. you could've had just about anything, but looking at the ethereal being before you, there's only one thing on your mind.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: hello, folks! this is the long-awaited goddess!nat fic for the milestone event! i am quite proud of this fic, ngl... got a bit too carried away with some parts ;)

word count: 2.5k

the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

When you jumped in front of a speeding car to save a cat on the road, you had absolutely no clue that the cat was not, in fact, a cat.

This not-cat was a species of flerken, and it’s name was Goose. Flerkens were extremely dangerous alien creatures. At least, that’s what the Goddess of Galaxies, Carol Danvers, told you.

Trust me, meeting an intergalactic space goddess with a pet killing-machine (that looked awfully like a cat) was about as chaotic and unbelievable as you would imagine it to be.

—

“H-holy fuck!” you yelled, jumping in your seat, as a glowing woman materialised before your very eyes, in your shithole of an office. 

“I do not believe I am holy, even though I am a Goddess.” The woman stated, watching with curious eyes as you tittered over your split coffee. Lifting your laptop and muttering curses, then sifting through the messed up paperwork.

“You’re a what?” You asked distractedly, still panicking over the mess that is your desk. “My boss is actually going to murder me. Or maybe I’ll murder myself first. I am literally- Yeah, okay, how the fuck did you appear like that? And aren’t gods supposed to be like, really huge? You look kinda…… human.”

“I am a goddess.” Carol reiterated with slight annoyance. A literal extraterrestrial being was in front of your eyes, and the only thing you cared about was your damn coffee? 

“We are beings you could only ever fathom from the depths of your imagination, powerful beyond measure. Which is also why we can shapeshift to look like regular human beings, so we won’t scare the shit outta you. Which seems to have still happened.”

You let out a dry bark of laughter. Carol wasn’t sure if you thought she was funny or you were about to burst into tears.

“So, why did you decide to visit me, ever-powerful, omnipresent, all-mighty being?” You asked, half-sarcastically, half simply given up on life itself. The report you had been working on for nearly an hour had been ruined by the fiasco earlier. 

You dropped into your chair, kicking your feet up onto your desk. Loosening your black tie with a weary sigh, you looked at the Goddess’ eyes and continued. “I’m a nobody. I’m an overworked and underpaid attorney. I run on caffeine. I don’t know why or how you’re here, but I really–”

“You saved us. The Gods and Goddesses.” Carol interrupts, firm and unyielding. “We owe you, alright? You get one wish.”

“One wish, to get whatever it is you desire. Anything. Anything at all.”

—

Your story was absolutely one of zero to hero. From an ‘underpaid and overworked attorney’, to having the fucking gods of the multiverse indebted to you, it seemed like a rather unorthodox situation.

“So… what do you want?” Carol had asked you. 

“Uhm, I don’t need anything,” you mumbled, fiddling with your loosened tie. “Like, it’s totally chill between us even if I saved your cat.”

Great. Real cool, Y/N. The middle school boys could never compare to your level of failed attempts at being cool.

“Goose is not a cat, alright?” Carol commented, offended. You mutter an apology. 

“So, what do you want?” she continued impatiently. “Humans thrive off greed. You mortals always want something. What is it, money? A fancy car? A boyfr– okay, not to be stereotypical, but you’re definitely not straight. So, women on your mind?”

You splutter at her outright but nevertheless true allegation. Carol gives you this blank stare that makes you feel stupid. 

“Well, I guess, as a woman, there’s something I do want,” you speak up after a while. Carol raises her eyebrows in interest. “Something I have wanted to try, you know.”

Leaning closer to whisper your deepest desire in the goddess’ ear, Carol’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Her impressed, intrigued, embarrassed, and taken aback emotions all morphed into one expression, almost steals a laugh from your lips.

—

“You want me to grant you a cock.”

The Goddess of Lust sits in her throne, a picturesque image of perfection, the statement falling from her lips with such ease. There’s a lilt to her voice you can’t decipher. You just nod, looking unfalteringly at the goddess, as if it was the most normal request in the world. 

The Goddess was slightly perturbed by your lack of, well, awe. There you were, standing in her grand palace, unfazed by the multi-million dollar chandeliers and gold-framed pictures, unfazed by her.

Natasha was just about the most exquisite sight people would kill to lay their eyes upon. Soft curls framed her delicately sculpted face like curtains to a stage, magnificent deep eyes and a more than well-endowed body to complement her pretty face. Her rose-gold dress of satins and sequins dripped with money. There was the thrall she exuded, of seduction so strong that had men and women falling to their knees.

Natasha was the Goddess of Lust for sakes, and the only thing you cared about was redeeming your wish?

She would’ve been annoyed, if not for how unfairly charming you were, standing with your hands in your pockets, a charming gentlemanly smile on your face.

“What kind of cock do you want?” Natasha resorts to ask, a playful smirk on her features. “I’ve seen some interesting ones over the years, intergalactic sex is far crazier than you would imagine. Ooh, do you want tentacles to-”

“Uh, no thanks.” You say hurriedly, a hand going out of your pocket to rub at your nose. It’s the first sign of discomfort or embarrassment Natasha’s seen from you. She grins. 

“Just a regular human one?” She clarifies, pouting at you slightly. 

“That’d be great, yeah.” You respond, back to smiling brightly. Natasha frowns. She knows that there’s something under that stupid gentlemanly facade you’re putting on. She’s craving to get a taste of it.

“What size?” The Goddess asks bluntly, like a Starbucks barista asking for your order on a Monday morning.

“A regular size would be fine, I suppose.” You respond in kind, nodding to yourself assuredly. Natasha winks at you. “Ah, a regular size, I see.”

Before you can decipher that cryptic response, the Goddess stands up, a pillar of superiority and authority. She snaps her fingers, and you’re being pushed back into a fancy chair. Where did the chair come from, anyway?

You forgo the answer to that question as the Goddess begins what you would assume to be the procedure. “Sit tight.”

A surge of pain presses against your crotch area, and you almost keel forward in shock, but the pain goes as quickly as it comes. 

“Wait….. that’s it?” You ask, almost disbelievingly. Natasha nods proudly.

You look down, hands resting on your belt buckle. 

You look up at the Goddess, and she only smirks. 

You pull down your pants in swift fashion, letting out a quiet ‘whoa’ at the bulge in your boxers. It definitely feels bigger than would be regular, but then again you don’t have much knowledge of a man’s cock per se.

“Thank you,” You say, pleased with the results. Trying something new in the bedroom would definitely bring more life to your desolate days.

All too quick for the Goddess’ liking, you’re putting your clothes back on and getting ready to leave. “Thanks for your help,” You say calmly, turning to walk down the long passageway.

God, you just wanted to watch her fall apart.

As you walk, you feel Natasha’ eyes burning holes through your back. Oh, the tension was palpable, building with each step you took. It was getting harder to walk, with Natasha’s thrall like a heavyweight on your shoulders, willing you not to leave.

As you stand before the tall doors, you come to a standstill. Natasha waits in her throne with bated breath, so many words fighting to fall from the tip of her stubborn lips.

Your hand pushes down on the door handle, and that’s the last thing you can do before Natasha snaps her fingers again, and the tension is broken like a snapped coil. Suddenly, you’re pressed against her, looking into her dilated pupils.

“You’re so annoying, you know? I’ve been so fucking horny, looking at you this whole time, and you were about to get up leave?” Natasha asks, her tongue coming out to dart at her pink lips. Her hands have grasped your forearms, but your hands are cinched around her waist, disabling movement.

“No,” you breathe, head moving down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her poised neck. “I was waiting for you.” The Goddess throws her head back under your fleeting touch. 

“Fuckin’ tease,” she mumbles, and you smirk against her skin. You’re rough with her, too, knowing that she isn’t made of glass, sucking purple marks into the pale skin of her neck, shoving your knee between her legs to spread them wider.

“Too much clothes,” Natasha breathes, and then with a burst of magic you’re stripped bare of any article of clothing. Her hands fly to your cock instantaneously, wrapping her delicate fingers around your semi-hard member.

You grunt against her skin, struggling to find a better position to properly have her. Since she’s sitting in the throne and you’re bent over above her, you can barely have her the way you want. Due to your lack of magical power, you resort to doing things the hard way.

Your hands slide under Goddess’ dress, going under her thighs, and then manhandling her up. Natasha’s whines of disapproval turn on deaf ears as you sit yourself in the grand chair, plopping her onto your lap. You don’t miss the way her thighs are already slightly damp.

“Need you inside now, fuck,” Natasha growls into your skin, climbing onto your cock as your hands squeeze at her thighs. You proceed to rip the fabric off her skin, deciding that there’s too much clothing restricting you from getting your hands on her.

And boy, was that a sight you’d never forget. 

“Oh!” The Goddess cries, when you lean forward to wrap your lips around her hardened bud. Your hands don’t rest for a moment, squeezing everywhere – hips, thighs, breasts, ass — whatever you can get your hands on. She’s fucking exquisite.

The stimulation seems to work wonders for Natasha’s pleasure, as she engulfs your cock in her warmth with fervour.

You gasp lowly, a throaty sound escaping your lips. Her hips and ass go up and down, working her cunt around the girth of your cock, wet and warm and slick. You can barely keep up with how desperate she is, and the fact that you have this wonder of a woman falling apart at your hands makes your heart soar.

Matching the rhythm of short upward thrusts with Natasha’s riding makes her moan out loud, a pretty melodious sound that imprints itself into your brain all at once. You wanna hear it a hundreds of times more.

Natasha gets more messy with her riding, as you suck hickeys, light ones and fierce ones, into her collarbone and her neck and breasts. You can’t resist the urge to slap her on the ass as she rides you like it’s the last day she’d be on this universe.

“Ah!” The Goddess moans, and you grip her thighs and push her down hilt deep, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. You feel her cum around your cock, so needy and desperate and mindless, and that triggers your own climax. 

Natasha hadn’t even begun to open her eyes again before she ends up on the floor and you hovering above her, your hands fervently spreading her cunt open. You duck your head down, licking a long stripe up her puffy clit. 

The Goddess writhes, unintelligible moans falling from her lips as you proceed to give her the best fucking cunnilingus of her life.

You’re more than determined to make this an unforgettable experience for the Goddess who probably had sex every other day. 

Natasha doesn’t know what the fuck you’re doing with your tongue, but you’re ravenous and your carnal desire makes her even wetter than before.

She’s slept with plenty of people, human or not, but none of them had ever been this uncouth about her pussy. Oh, it nearly drove her mad, but she was already seeing stars.

Before the Goddess registers what’s happening, your hardened cock slides into her cunt with a flippant ease once again. Natasha lets out a filthy moan as she feels it throb inside her, clenching around you hard.

You slap her thigh in retaliation, but feeling the sudden strike of pain only turns her on further. “Gonna fill you up so good,” you pant. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” 

Natasha takes it as a promise, when you spread her thighs and line your cock up with her pussy. The Goddess of Lust doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anyone this bad.

You enter her roughly, your previously calm exterior completely faded away. You fuck her deeper with each thrust, opening the Goddess up. Pounding into the woman’s cunt like a woman starved, you hear her beg and cry with each thrust.

“Oh, please! More! More!” The Goddes cries, nearly screaming your name every time your blunt head pushes against her cervix. You only get spurred on further, going at a pace so painfully fast you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

You swallow at the sight of this Goddess, completely breathtaking in her state of unravelling. 

“My divine Goddess,” You say, leaning down to press a kiss against the bulge of your cock at her lower stomach. 

Those words in itself have Natasha uncoiling before you, your name falling from her lips like a sacred mantra. Her walls are wrapped around your cock so tight, her nails digging into your back so hard it nearly draws blood.

“My divine Goddess,” you repeat, eyes glazed over, reaching your own climax inside her. Natasha lets out a filthy moan, feeling each throb of your cock in her as walls of cum pulse inside her, again and again. 

God, it feels so good, everything everywhere all at once, your world becoming Natasha, Natasha, Natasha. 

You think you could stay like this forever.

—

A long bath and a trip to the Goddess’ bedroom later, you’re laying on her expensive silk sheets, hair smelling like rosemilk or whatever that shampoo had been called.

You honestly don’t know how this gorgeous woman’s been charmed by your awkward humour and the coffee stain on your work shirt, but you’re definitely not complaining as she nuzzles into your neck, humming in satisfaction.

“You sure that’s the first time you’ve ever had a cock?”

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @lovebelt05 @girllcver @godsfavouritelesbiann @natashaswife4125 @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33_mrvl @gay4ols3n @knellyc30 @eatkobi @stitch26gp @cqllarbqne @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @wandaromanoff69 @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02 @jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight @gingerninja1993 @yourfavdummy @iliketigolbitties @scarlttolsn @blackbirdv98 @mxxnligxt @riomiyawakisstuff @alex4424 @0DeadandCold0 @mr.romanoff @mandy-asimp @idontwannabehereatm @daenerys713 @xxsekhmet @marvel_simp @maowlxslay @lizbugwanda @peggycarter3 @flositaa @dooblekhay @aliherrerasz @theo-021 @hopelesslyfalleninlove @secretbackrooms @natasha10273 @justyourwritter69 @theo-221b @wandaromanoff69

NEXT PART | series m.list

the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

[mochinomnoms]

Thinking about the Tweels parents reacted to them bringing home a partner, think of how excited mama Ashengrotto will be when Azul brings home his mate. After seeing Azul alone, depressed, and self-loathing for so many years, seeing him have the confidence to bring home his mate. If he is in his Merform she is even more thrilled. When she sees them comfort and hug him and allows Azul to cling to them she may faint. If/when they get married, you know she is throwing the biggest wedding reception in her restaurant. Yuu’s dress or tux, completely covered no matter the cost, all food, covered. She is just happy that her son found someone and Mr. Ashengrotto has to hold her back and keep her from squeezing Yuu to tight out of joy. She would also drop hints that she would be a great grandma and show you how cute Azul was in all his baby pictures.

Azul would probably die of embarrassment when his mom shows baby pictures and when they are finally alone (thanks to Azul’s Stepdad reminding her she has a Business to take care of) he finally relents:

“I’m sorry, she is just excited to meet you,” Azul has yuu curled in his many arms inside his octopot.

“Is she the reason you waited so long to introduce me to your parents?”

“Yes… also she has three books full of photos hidden in the house I can’t find and my step-father won’t tell me where they are. They just appear when guest come over and disappear when I try to burn them later.”

“Well, we are meeting your Grandma tomorrow so things should be better there!”

Azul groaned.

“More picture books?”

“Six books. I have no clue how she got half of those photos, I think she hired the tweels behind my back!”

She's so happy upon learning about Azul's partner. Ms Iris Ashengrotto is a sweet woman whose restaurant started from the bottom to become a renounced, exclusive dining experience that only the most wealthy, prim and proper folks under the sea could have the privilege of eating. It's why the Ashengrottos and the Leech family have worked together for so long, it makes a fine establishment for their… “business” deals. She's what we would equate to Gordon Ramsay, really: no-nonsense, with strict and high expectations in her kitchen. Similarly, she is oh so sweet with children, her own especially.

So it was a pain to watch Azul grow up so lonely, though she could never get him to tell her why. Iris assumed that it was due to bullying, most merfolk are not kind to cecaelias, but she couldn't go off and scare random children into not interacting with her son. Nor could she talk to their parents without knowing for sure if that was the case, or if her son was just naturally shy. It didn't help her worries when her son got skinner and skinner, thinking she didn't notice him look at his body in the mirror as he poked and prodded at what little fat remained on him.

She took comfort when the Leech parents sent their twins off to keep Azul company, though he didn't seem to warm up to them for quite some time. Even when he went to NRC with the twins, opening his own establishment, Iris was still concerned about him making friends. It's why she was so pleasantly surprised to hear from her son during his second year about his partner. He's shyly gushing about you to him, a magicless human that slithered their way into his locked up heart. With the way he describes you, like you hung the moon and starts, she's already planning a wedding in her head.

It takes some nudging after that to get him to bring you for a visit, but he eventually did over the summer break. Oh, she was delighted to see his limbs unconsciously curl around you, holding you close as you curled into him yourself. You were so cute! A sweetheart! A delight! A perfect child-in-law! Azul, please forgive her if she starts sobbing, but how else is a mother supposed to react when she sees her child gaze at someone with so much love in their heart?

The first day she's monopolized your time, feeding you and Azul all sorts of food and snacks, offhandedly mentioning that the two of you would have to fatten up a bit to give her health grandchildren. She had to withhold a laugh at Azul's mortified expression. Iris has several albums of baby and childhood pictures, eager to coo over how cute and chubby Azul was as a baby. Her son is sulking at the other end of the couch, but he still has a tentacle curled around your ankle, never leaving you for long.

It's when she's hiding away her album (one of three, Azul's destroyed many be she always has spares), that she overhears your conversation. Iris had stopped by his bedroom to let you two know that she needed to return to the restaurant, but instead quietly delighted at the sight of you two in his octopot. A cecaelia's octopot, hiding place, is a very private and intimate place. So seeing you, cradled in Azul's lap, as his many arms hold you close to him, makes her heart swell.

She decides to leave you two alone, taking one last peek as you giggle at a pouting Azul, before sharing a soft kiss. Iris is smiling at the sight, sighing as she can finally relax, knowing her son is going to be taken care of.

[muldermuse]

An Unlikely Hero (ex boyfriend!Billy Butcher x reader)

this is going to be a multi part series!!! i love exboyfriend!butcher and he is on my mind constantly. if u would like to read more about him here’s some more posts! if you wanna talk about him pls send me your thoughts ❤️ dividers by @saradika ❤️

part one: the first date

OR

the first time you meet Billy Butcher

You swore to yourself that this was the last Tinder date you’d subject yourself to. Last week, you matched and met with Jack who had a Homelander sleeve tattoo and cried to you about how hard it was to be a ‘true American’ nowadays.  The week before that, it was Shay who seemed sweet but kept trying to ply you with drinks and invite you back to his place (he bragged that his ‘folks were out of town’, which would be impressive if you were a hell of a lot younger than you actually are). This week’s date is named Harry and he’s just not right for you. You thought it over texts but as soon as you sat down with him tonight; it was confirmed. It’s not even like you have a great previous relationship as a point for comparison, all romantic love has been fleeting and, with how things are going currently, you imagine it always will be.

It's a few hours later and Harry’s suddenly a lot drunker than you. You’ve moved from the overpriced restaurant to your favourite bar. The drinks are questionable in that they’re both incredibly cheap and very strong. You grab two stools at the bar which is overwise empty, apart from one man nursing a whiskey. You’re sure Harry’s drunker than you because he’s currently sobbing into his craft beer about how he hasn’t felt a connection with anyone since his ex-girlfriend, who left him 3 months ago for a co-worker.

“Like, you’re nice y’know. You seem like a nice girl” you try not to recoil at the phrase “but my ex? She was great. There’s no one else who’s ev-hic-ever been like her and there never will be”. The guy sat next to you at the bar mutters a “fuckin’ ell” under his breath as he gestures towards the bartender for another neat whiskey. His accent is completely out of place in this local dive bar; he sounds European. No trace of an american accent so you consider that he could be a tourist who’s wandered into a bar looking for a cold drink and some respite.

You try not to smirk at the utterance and tune back into what Harry’s saying, “I think we’ve both just gone through the motions tonight, don’t you agree? I can tell you’re not really into me and to be honest, I’m not into you”. You kind of admire his candor because he’s right, you’re not into him in the slightest but the next thing out of his mouth quickly dispels any misplaced respect you held for him. “I’ve been real lonely since she left though…maybe you could come back to my place-hic-she’s uh…some of her stuff is still there but there’s not a lot of it in the bedroom”. He’s that plastered that what he assumed would be a casual hand slide up your thigh becomes a full push, hurtling you into the whiskey sipping man next to you. You fall into his chest, it’s strong and kind of feels like slamming into a wall. 

“Right, tha’s fuckin’ it” the potential tourist speaks and it’s only when he stands up that you realise how broad he is. He’s tall with thick black hair and the beard to match. His outfit is seemingly prepared for a spectrum of weathers with a Hawaiian shirt clashing with a thick overcoat. He’s older than you, definitely older but absolutely attractive. More attractive than anyone you’d seen on Tinder or, probably, ever in your life. “You alright there darlin’?” his dark eyes bore into yours as you nod and cough out a meek ‘yes’. You silently curse yourself, the first thing you say to this strong man makes you sound like a small frightened mouse.

“’M jus’ gonna get rid of your little pal there and then I’ll buy ya a drink- alright?” his hand rubs your bare arm and sends a flurry of goosebumps across your skin. The whole interaction feels more charged than anything you’ve had before with another human, you wonder if he’s feeling it too and pray that he is.

“Oh nice one man, I’ll have uh…another craft” Harry gestures towards the tap, completely oblivious to the situation in front of him

“All you’re fuckin’ gettin’ cunt is a helpin’ hand out that fuckin’ door. Now, I’ll ask ya politely one last fuckin’ time…fuck off” he elongates the 3 letter word. A comically confused look spreads across Harry’s face. “’M on a fucking date here man and she’s coming back to mine, aren’t you?”

“No” you quickly deadpan, shaking your head at the still unnamed man.

“There’s your answer then cunt, off ya fuck” 

“Butcher- no fuckin’ blood on my bar this time man” the bartender shouts whilst idly checking his phone. Butcher? Is that the guy’s name? 

Harry stands up, pushing out his chest which, if anything, only exaggerates how small he is in comparison. “I’ve bought her meal, paid for her drink and I’m go-hic-gonna take her back to my place and fuck her”. He finishes his sentence in Butcher’s face. Whilst you see a flicker of fear cross Harry’s expression; Butcher’s look borders on hysterical. 

“Alright then big fella, I’ll tell ya what’s gonna happen” he slams his hand down on Harry’s shoulder, his eyes now boring into his. “You’re gonna fuck off back to your shitty little home, grab some lube, cry and wank to ya heart’s content about your ex who is probably ridin’ some big fat fuckin’ dick right now-yeah?” Butcher nods as if Harry’s going to agree with him.

Your date goes to interrupt but Butcher presses a finger to his quaking lips before he can start, “what’s not gonna happen, my sad little mate, is that you’re going to fuck her. She’s hadta listen to your fuckin’ whinin’ about your ex all night whilst you’ve fuckin’ insulted this gorgeous woman. So, get out before I throw ya through the fuckin’ window”. Harry’s lost for words, he doesn’t make eye contact with you as you stand silently behind Butcher. You see tears brimming in his eyes as he smacks $20 on the bar top. 

“Fuckin’ old asshole” Harry spits as he shoves past the pair of you.

Butcher smirks at the remark, watching the door swing shut behind Harry before turning to you. “Right darlin’, whatcha havin’?” 

It’s the best date you’ve ever been on and it’s not even a real date. You finally got his full name. Billy Butcher. Your heart races just to say it. He’s from London but has been in the States for a while. He asks all about you and you surprisingly find you’ve got a lot in common. He’s funny, charming and really fucking exciting- you have to admit. By the third drink, the chat goes from conversational to more flirty. 

“The bartender said ‘this time’, do you do this a lot? Love saving a damsel in distress? Are you a hero, Billy Butcher?” you smirk at him and he returns it back to you. There’s lust in his eyes and you see him take your appearance in for what feels like the upteenth time since you sat down.

As he goes to speak, the bell rings for last orders and he takes your hand to help you off the bar stool. You down the remnants of your drink together and he puts his arm around you and escorts you out of the bar.

You don’t want it to end, he lights a cigarette and you thank any higher deity for the extra thinking seconds it gives you. He speaks before you get chance, “Will ya let me walk you home darlin’? Swear on my mum’s life I won’t try any funny business”. He holds his hand out like he’s making a scouts honour. Honestly, you do anything to spend a bit more time with him so you smile, link your arm with his and pull him down the quiet streets.

The air makes you feel drunker than you are. If you were sober, there is no way you’d be giggling like a school girl at everything this man is saying, yet here you are. Your arms are linked and you’re resting your head on his shoulders as you tell him about your horrific dating history. Everytime he laughs and accuses you of exaggerating you say, “Billy Butcher, I would never ever lie to you”. You say it because his name feels so fun sliding off your tongue. You barely see anyone on your walk home and the sound of your shared laughter fills the empty streets.

As you turn down your street, you wish you lived miles away so you could keep walking together for hours. Your stomach drops at the thought that you’ll never see him again. Which, you completely realise, is fucking stupid. This stranger threatened your date to leave but he also made you feel safe and laugh harder than you have in months. You pull his stride to a stop outside your house. It feels like some awful hallmark romcom or trashy romance novel.

You thank him for escorting you home and he turns down a nightcap in your house as “it’s not gentlemanly on the first date”. He shoots you a wicked grin again as he says, “my mum would be spinnin’ in her grave darlin’”.

You try not to let the heartbreak from that sentence show on your expression. “You’re a gentleman, Billy Butcher?”

“The best one around darlin’. I’ll prove it tomorrow when I take ya out for lunch”

A brief flare of anger hits you, “yeah, I hear that all the fucking time. The lunch never happens, I don’t see you again but then we bump into each other at the store and you apologise and say you’ll be in touch which, of course, you never will be”. You regret it as soon as you stop speaking.

Before you can apologise, he grabs a sharpie out of his coat pocket, takes your hand and scribbles down his number. “There, alright? You call me at any time gorgeous and I swear, I’ll fuckin’ answer and come runnin’”

His kiss to your cheek is soft yet restrained. “You’ll forget about me Billy Butcher, I know it”.

“S’not fuckin’ possible, darlin’”. He says goodnight and walks down your street. A plume of cigarette smoke trailing after him.

He keeps his word.

40 minutes later, and after one final glass of wine, you call him.

He answers on the first ring and says your name. He tells you where to meet tomorrow and what time to get there.

You hope he can always keep his promises.

[trek-tracks]

Okay, hear me out. TOS 4 is the time travel movie. So AOS 4 is the time travel movie, but it's not about whales.

It's about a conversation AOS Spock had with TOS Spock before the latter died, when TOS Spock mentioned that things didn't really go irrevocably wrong in his universe until Admiral Kirk disappeared with the Enterprise-B. AOS Spock wonders what repercussions this has had on his own, somewhat more distressing universe, and when the AOS Enterprise bridge crew finds itself assigned to protect Earth by examining an unstable temporal ribbon that seems to be crossing through the galaxy--well. Spock wonders. Is this the Nexus? They find out soon enough that it is. And since Spock's the first one in, technically, the Nexus gives him what he wants, which is what the Nexus has--the ability to cross universes as well.

Now everyone, out in two groups on separate missions has to resist succumbing to the temptations of the world of the Nexus while they try to rescue Admiral Kirk, making sure his mission is still completed (so as not to destroy anything for the TNG folks' reality) but that he survives, so that they can figure out how to get through the Nexus and pop him back in his universe right as he's supposed to leave on the Enterprise-B. AOS Spock is sure he can figure out those calculations somehow. Some of the temptations are funny, some are sad, but we find out where Uhura and Sulu and Scotty are in their lives, and where they want to be.

Like Spock got to meet TOS Spock, TOS Kirk gets to meet Kirk (and Spock, and McCoy, and eventually the rest of the bridge crew). AOS Kirk learns that the life he's been envious of all this time didn't turn out well in the end because TOS Kirk ran toward duty alone despite what he had, and TOS Kirk learns that a) he could have suffered so much more loss, b) he's just one of a set of infinite possibilities, just like AOS Kirk is, and c) he's been wasting eternity exploring those other possibilities of happiness in the Nexus when he could have been content with what he already had.

He finds out what happened to TOS Spock, and it's agonizing. He sees this weird young Spock and Bones, both of whom could bench-press him, and he misses his Spock and Bones so much that the Nexus starts trying to change the fantasy world, to their detriment. It's only when the crew sticks as close as possible together and all concentrates on wanting the same thing that they're all able to shift the Nexus to their goal. Then Picard shows up. Things get complicated.

We hear, from Generations: And in the end, what did it get me? An empty house...Not this time.

and from Star Trek V: I knew I wouldn't die because the two of you were with me.

I thought you said men like us don't have families.

I was wrong.

TOS Kirk decides that, yes, he wants to leave, and he wants to go back. But they're not entirely sure how to line up Picard's plan and TOS Kirk's plan and the AOS plan and have it all work. It's a lot to figure out.

To simplify things, AOS Kirk decides he's going to volunteer to go die in TOS Kirk's place so that they can return TOS Kirk and at least one of them will have a decent ending, because his own life still feels so uncertain. This seems like it's going to work until his Spock and Bones both read him the riot act. But it's Bones who really goes off.

Karl Urban gets a great speech as Bones about how both Spock and Kirk met their counterparts, a chance which he will likely never be afforded and neither of them learned anything from it. Spock went off and punctured the walls of a universe even though TOS Spock indirectly destroyed AOS Vulcan through it. Kirk is trying to run away and die again because he doesn't know what to do with himself, even though TOS Kirk had an unhappy ending to a good life because at the end he ran away and tried to die again. Bones just tries to pick up the pieces. You don't fix things by tearing them apart, and you don't fix them by tearing yourself apart. You fix them by healing the rift. AOS Kirk's eyes light up. They're going to fix the rift.

They're going to give this random meaningless villain what he wants, throw him into the Nexus, he can have infinite joy, then they're going to seal it and heal it.

After all, AOS Bones says. He had a drink with TOS Kirk at the man's insistence, even though the Saurian Brandy didn't taste like anything, and Kirk told him he could cure anything from a rock to a rainy day. The tasteless brandy? Apparently Bones is the person who can actually perceive that nothing here is real, so he doesn't want anything except for everyone to remain safe.

From Beyond: Better to die saving lives than to live with taking them. 

Bones says: Better that no one dies at all. This time, no one dies.

So TOS Kirk and the Bridge crew go with Picard to subdue Soran and honestly, it's not that tough with all of them. Nobody had to die. And as they fix the rift, with TOS Kirk and Picard's Enterprise about to be thrown back into their universe on one side and the AOS Enterprise into theirs on the other, Picard suddenly realizes that he never clarified how they were getting Kirk back to his own time. And how will they explain his status?

TOS Kirk grins. Good thing I know how to slingshot around the sun, he says. And when they report me missing, I'll just say I didn't go in the first place. Clerical error. Who are they to argue with an alive man?

AOS Kirk has so many questions, but the two of them merely salute each other, and then they're thrown back.

Back in his own time, TOS Kirk walks into a Starfleet Academy apartment, and hear him say:

Bones, I heard you got laid up with Andorian flu and Spock was taking care of you, and this I just had to see! How many hypos? Don't let him talk you out of any, Spock. They're all important, every single one, even ones he hasn't heard of.

A pause.

Yes, I know I said Starfleet needed me. I just thought maybe you two needed me more this time.

Back in the AOS universe and Spock's calculations are totally off in getting home, because he didn't account for the gravitational pull of--

Vulcan. The planet that apparently still exists.

TOS Spock still came into their universe--he was always going to live longer than his ties to his Enterprise family. But his actions had been tempered, less destructive, which had clearly resulted in the Enterprise being able to save the planet. They were going to have to find out how.

Not everything had changed, of course. Nero had still been Nero, they had still come together. But Jim only vaguely remembers dying, now, as though it had happened to somebody else. He feels more settled than he ever has before. Some of that's the time travel revision, and some of that's the meeting with his alternate self, and some of that's Bones' yelling. Spock feels a sense of closure. Bones is just relieved that nobody died this time.

Uhura suddenly and quietly alerts them to the chronometer. It's a week before they left, which means there are now two Enterprise bridge crews on Earth, and that they need to lie low for a week to avoid running into themselves.

What should we do, Captain? she asks.

Jim smiles.

Let's go to Yosemite.

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Gojo and Geto with bad bitch Chubby Reader

Guys, I tried to avoid being a Gojo stan...I tried so hard to hate him...but the pull was too strong. He got my ass. He's too silly. He's too cute the little shit. He's too perfect. Geto's great too before he lost his shit and went psycho the two are just too great to pass up.

2024 WILL BE THE YEAR THAT I GET YOU BITCHES TO PREACH STRONG, CONFIDENT, INDEPENDENT but not too independent bc these men are still yummy af CHUBBY READER! No longer will I be insecure about my weight because these men LOVE to see me coming AND going, I can tell you that.

WARNING: Fatphobia (happens when first meeting Gojo & Geto—they’re teens trying to bully Reader, but she handles herself because they’re idiots), A little angst with the small amount of bullying but I hope I made up for it, Cursing

✧༺♥༻✧

Imagine you, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko being classmates and friends during their schooling at Jujutsu High. All of you are powerful threats not to be taken lightly. The boys were undoubtedly freaks of nature with how strong they were—though, you had doubled over laughing alongside Shoko a couple of times when you heard them deem themselves "the strongest duo", as if they were some cool loner wolf types. Shoko was a master in the medicinal field; she made any injury look like a breeze to clean. She'd stitch them up no problem with her cursed energy and send them merrily on their way with a swift kick to their backside.

You definitely have more proficiency with cursed energy usage for combat more so than healing, but you could manage healing yourself just fine. You’d been born into a clan, not as highly revered as the Zenin or Gojo clans but still notable, so you’ve been taught from an early age how to wield cursed energy. Sacrificing yourself for the greater good of the world has been drilled into your head since birth, and you agreed with it. The world’s innocence needs to be protected from the cursed dangers life creates. Sure, there are bad people in the world, but the good people make life worth living. At least, that’s what you choose to believe.

While you’re just a normal—aside from the slight infinite power and jaw-dropping strength—girl, you are different in one more physical way. You’re chubbier than most, and not by a small bit.

Are you insecure about it?

Hell fucking no!

You’re a bad bitch. Fantastic face, banging body, stunning smile, bright eyes, a kind but strong heart, and even a cute butt to top it off. You knew this world inside out with how cruel it could be to plus sized folk, and while you took the beating for far too long without fighting back, you took a couple of steps back a few years ago to look at the situation. Why let people push you around like you didn’t matter? Why let them speak to you like you’re lesser than them simply because you weigh more? You were done being talked to like you were filth underneath their boots.

Since that new perspective, you’ve chosen the road of self love and hands rated E for everyone. You’re kind and sweet to those who reciprocate the respect. To those who try you, you beat their asses with a smile. “Education on Human Decency” is what you’ve begun to call the smackdowns since many want to try casting judgment in snide remarks or sneering looks. They can try these hands instead :)

That’s where Jujutsu High and the headaches you know as Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru fit into this philosophy of yours.

You were homeschooled by your clan in the first year of your sorcery high school. Though, after much begging for a change of scenery and yearning for social interactions other than your family and neighbors, they allowed you to go to a high school centered on jujutsu sorcery the next school year.

When you started Jujutsu High in your second year, that is where you met Shoko, Gojo, and Geto, your classmates. The first thought to cross your mind was how small this crowd was. Sure, it wasn’t like the classes you’ve had before had many students in them either; the world of curses and cursed energy wasn’t exactly a booming population to start with, especially when every year is the same class roster composed of the few brothers and sisters you had. Considering that, three new faces was much better than before! You introduced yourself with a joyful tone and an eager handshake.

You started with Shoko since she was the only other girl. You’re glad you did. Shoko, who you originally thought would be tricky to get along with since she gave off “rebel” vibes with that unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and you were nothing of the sort, held a grin and took your handshake with grace. She told you she liked your spunk, that it was nice to be around another girl rather than more stinking boys. You agreed with her with a relieved sigh. You two shared a laugh and chatted some more, each of you discussing your thoughts of the school and figuring out your mutual interests.

Soon enough, you were interrupted by someone giving a very noticeable and forced cough behind you. You turned and were met with two boys, one with jet black hair and a sly grin and the other one with silvery moonlight colored strands sharing the same expression hidden behind circular sunglasses. The white haired boy was leaning heavily on the black haired boy with one arm propped on his shoulder as the black-haired boy crossed his arms in front of himself. Seems like the two are close. No matter.

You stuck your hand out, another smile—admittedly, this one was a little more forced than the one you shared with Shoko—and gave your name. Suguru was the first to bite. He grabbed your hand with a smooth, warm grip, and exchanged his name. His shake felt sincere, though the cunning smirk still laid on his lips.

You tried to shake the other boy’s hand after letting Suguru go, but he decided otherwise. He swiftly with no mercy said he wasn’t going to shake hands with the likes of “you”. You raised an eyebrow, already sensing the insult he would try to hurl at you. One thing bullies are is predictable. None of them have any creative bone in their body, they’re like leeches, in a way. Mooching off other clever remarks they’ve heard used before through the Internet or their idiot friends. Though, they alway reproduce it much shitter than the first time they heard it.

He leaned in with a smile and yapped about how if he touches you, some of your fat might rub off on him. Gojo tries to drag Geto into bullying you too by shamelessly asking if Geto is worried that will happen to him now that he’s so brazenly touched you. As much as you wanted Suguru to be his own person, to be better than the loser clinging to him like a koala, he chimed in that while Gojo’s afraid of that, that that could never happen to him. He sneered while looking down at you that he actually has the discipline to keep the weight off. The two of them share an evil snicker together.

Oh, so that’s how they wanna play it.

Okay. You don’t mind showing a bitch their place.

As Shoko pipes up and tells them to shut the hell up, you stop her. You give her a kind smile that says “I love you, but please back the fuck up as I rock these bitches world”. Her eyebrows jump up in surprise, but she gives you a nod. She quiets down.

You choose to laugh with them. They slowly shut their mouths, finding laughing at you not that funny when you don’t crumple under their taunts like they’d expected. You then explain to them that what you find so funny is that punks like them are so easy to read and, subsequently, ruin. You told them they need to find better insults to steal if they wanna cackle like they’re some kind of drunk hyenas and, unless they get more creative, they’re not worth the air they take from others. You turned to walk away, but since you just couldn’t help yourself, you gave the both of them a swift kick to the chest. Unprepared for the action, they both were sent careening back, but remained standing. You also snarkily nagged that being “undisciplined in weight loss” gave you the extra weight to knock their scrawny asses back that far.

Shoko gave you a hearty high five while laughing at them getting what they deserve. Gojo, though baffled at your defiance, is ready to start throwing punches, as he spews half-assed insults left and right. Geto manages to keep his thoughts to himself, but you do note his expression has definitely become sour. This little scrap is swiftly interrupted by your new teacher, Masamichi Yaga, when he enters and orders the class to settle down. He also snuffs Gojo’s babbling tantrum with a merciless smack to his forehead.

You give a small grin stuck your tongue out at the two when Mr. Masamichi turned his back. From then on, it was war.

You, Geto, and Gojo fought constantly in the beginning

When they (mostly Gojo now) tried to stir shit with you, you’d fling their rudeness right back at them

Whether they tried to pick on your weight, or cheery personality, or strength (which they couldn’t make too much fun off since you were only a little less strong than they were, but so was everyone else compared to their insane powers), you were always ready to kick their asses

You didn’t resent them for their teasing, mostly since you had a good head on your shoulders and you know that Gojo’s only deflecting all the shit he hates about himself onto other people, but they sure got on your nerves sometimes

So, you decided soon into your acquaintance with these dopes that instead of simply beating their asses every time they said some wack shit and never correcting the behavior, you’re going put an end to their bullying of based on others appearances

Because, who knows. You have enough self love and confidence to defend yourself against their rude remarks, but not everyone does. What happens if they target other plus sized people who maybe can’t or won’t defend themselves?

So, when they’d try to make fun of you, you’d correct them with sincerity and help them understand why that would hurt to someone

Geto pretty much never made a passing comment like that again towards you. You’re happy to see that change in him

Gojo huffed and puffed after what he called “your lecture”, but you also saw change in him

After that, it was slow progress to all be friends

Shoko and you were doing great! Hanging out outside of school, dragging her along with you to do some window shopping, eating a sit down lunch together, going to the nearest bookstore, grabbing a yummy sweet treat, stargazing—you did it all together!

She always made a fuss that she had “no interest” in what you would force her to do, but you could secretly tell she liked doing girly stuff together. As long as she could have a smoke break in between these hang outs, she was all good

The first time you, Geto, and Gojo made a recovery in your rocky relationship was when they asked if they could come along with the two of you to get a treat together

You were a bit hesitant to share the thing that brings you joy with the two people who tried to make you the butt of the joke, but you threw them bone and agreed

You four walked down the sidewalk, mostly you chit chatting with Shoko, when Gojo butted his way into the conversation at your mention of Kikufuku.

You and him bonded over your mutual love of the delicate, bouncy sweet treat and you watched as his eyes sparkled like a little kid when you said the place you were going to had an excellent Kikufuku

You know, when Gojo isn’t being a menace, he’s actually nice to share a conversation with

Geto teased Gojo for his astounding sweet tooth, and explained to you an embarrassing story of Gojo losing his mind one time when a dog stole one of his dorayaki treats and ran off

You laughed as Gojo tried to hit Geto as payback for sharing the “secret” but Geto fended off his flailing

Maybe I'll come back to this idea one day when I'm not hung up on the bullying. If you guys like this idea, I might continue it with less bullying. I am a baby when it comes to angst lol. I really do love these boys, I just don't think my heart is ready for the subject matter I wrote.

✧༺♥༻✧

[shirefantasies]

Hi!

Once you feel up to it, could you please write a oneshot of Fílí meeting a hobbit girl on his way to the Bag End and falling helplessly in love with her?

I have always imagined that Fílí and Kílí had arrived to Hobbiton a whole day early and spent it walking around - that, given how lost their uncle always was, Dís had sent them on the road earlier than necessary to ensure that they arrived in time.

So when they arrive to Hobbiton, the brothers are left to explore the market - and that’s when the coup de foudre happens - Fílí sees a hobbit (with strawberry blonde hair, please, if you don’t want to do reader-insert) selling all kinds of flour and has very short conversation with her. To his utter disappointment and annoyance, Kílí is responsible enough to talk him out of buying the huge bag of flour.

And, to be honest, that’s the reason behind Kílí’s grin and Fílí’s smirk we see when Bilbo opens the door.

Thank you soo much!

Please, take your time and care!

🪻🌸🪻🌸🪻

‘Cuz’ of Death- Fili x F!Hobbit!Reader

This is so long in the making 😅 but yay, brain finally brained! Enjoy some Fili fluff 🥰

Warnings: one suggestive comment

Hobbiton’s rolling hills are green as ever as you struggle to pull the wheelbarrow along the path to the market. Your wares are your charge, of course, but that does not stop you in the slightest from wishing you had someone to share in your burdens. And your victories. Not that some great many victories are won in the illustrious world of flour salesmanship, but the thought still stood.

Thoughts. Such are yours for the remaining duration of the trip, flitting about your mind in fancy until you enter the bustle of tents being raised and tables being lain with all manner of honeys, meats, fishers' catches, freshly baked bread, and so many more colorful and tantalizing offerings of your great land. A smile fills your face at the sight. For some, they are overwhelming. For you? Your livelihood. Livelihood and the secret charm of possibility that you might meet someone you do not know, someone from some far reaches of the Shire. Or beyond.

Snorting at that particular notion, you heft bags of flour onto the table your neighbor was kind enough to set up for you, sorting them once all of them are up there for a moment of muscle rest. You hang your sign, a wooden piece carved for you by your father, and take up your helm of sale.

~

Sunlight has fallen such that it casts into your eyes; cursing your short form, you shade yourself with an arm as two shapes enter your line of vision. Tall shapes. Men? Dwarves? Dwarves, judging by their garb, which appears to be that of mountain folk. Heavy tunics, fur linings, heavy boots and beaded braids. They also are not so towering as the men you’d met on a trip to Bree once.

The blonde one's eyes slide between your wares and you, alternating until you break into a smile.

"Could I interest you in any of these fine flours, sirs?"

"Sirs," the black-haired one snickers, though completely without malice, only humor.

"What's this one?" Pushing his neighbor aside, Blonde points at a medium-sized sack.

“Buckwheat flour,” you answer with a smile, “Good way to make your cookies tender if you don’t use too much. That is, if you make cookies much. I’m not sure what you like.”

“I have been wanting to get into baking.”

“What are you doing?” Black Hair hisses, a whisper just loud enough for you to hear. “We’ve got the party!”

“Yes,” Blonde agrees jovially, glancing back to you, “It is prudent to bring a gift, isn’t it? What about a nice bag of-”

“We’ve got a while yet! I’m not carrying that around for an hour! Are you?”

“Well-”

“Come on, Brother.”

“Brother?” You burst out before you could stop yourself. The pair doesn't look so much alike- perhaps they each look like one parent.

“Oh, my apologies, madam,” Blonde whips around and gives a bow, spinning his hand as he folds, “Fili, at your service, alongside my little brother here.”

Giving your name, you accept Fili’s proffered hand and giggle as he presses a kiss to the back of yours.

"Kili," the little brother pushes in, offering his hand, too, "And we were just leaving."

"What about the buckwheat?" Fili turns from Kili back to you, leaning on your table. "I'm quite interested in the...tender cookies? What on earth does that mean? Does that make them firmer or less firm? Or more...chewy?"

"You don't bake." Kili again, this time with less urgency and a great deal more amusement.

Fili must have made some disastrous attempts, you think, unable to stop the amusement that begins creeping across your lips. You picture him hunched with a look of dramatized defeat over a pan of crumbled, blackened cookies with smoke spiraling off them.

"I could learn," the elder retorts in a surprisingly determined tone.

Something about it moves your heart, loosens it further, speeds it even. These dwarves are nothing like you expected- not in appearance, manner, or of course location there at your table traveling some humble Shire market.

"I could teach you," you tell him, running a hand through your hair.

"I'd like that," he replies, "We aren't here much longer, but this place is very beautiful. I think we'll be back."

Kili looks between you two, jiggling his eyebrows up and down as Fili suddenly kneels to the ground, rising again with a little pink flower pinched gingerly between his thumb and index finger.

"At least I will be for those baking lessons. Speaking of which..." He chuckles to himself. "A flower for a flour?"

After you accept the flower, Fili reaches for your sack of buckwheat flower yet again, only for Kili to knock his hand away, initiating a comical skirmish of slaps that finally cements in your eyes that these two are undoubtedly brothers. Your gaze bounces between each volley as you twirl your baby bloom, heart leaping at the feeling of it, at the imprint of Fili's mischievous smile and gleaming blue eyes upon the back of your brain.

"Ignore him," Kili finally says, breaking you from your flower-induced, pollen-dusted golden reverie, "He's looking for an entirely different set of goodies."

The confusion you feel at that last comment as you watch the younger dwarf physically drag his brother away from your flour assortment lasts all the way through the rest of the market, all your actual purchases, and even up to your trip to your cousin's house to deliver a loaf of bread your mother had made him.

The hearth is warm and the kitchen scented of the herbs he's preparing for supper and calming tea. He welcomes your steaming parcel of sourdough with open arms and puts a second fish and helping of vegetables on to roast while you chat about your day. Your unusual day.

A tale of your dwarf-filled day...interrupted by a dwarf. This one exactly what you've always pictured, even taller than the brothers and more imposing, complete with a long beard, tattoos, and an intimidating stare. He is quite blunt about the fact that he isn't familiar with you or Bilbo, but gracious as your cousin is he shoots you a look of sympathy and quickly slides you his other helping. His look quickly melts into frustration the more the dwarf goes on and takes from him and rearranges, sharing with you an exasperated glare that has you giggling.

"Dwarves," he shakes his head before opening the door to another, older one, "What is it with today and dwarves?"

"I don't know," you reply quietly, reaching up to gently caress Fili's flower, which you have tucked behind your ear.

The second dwarf, Balin, is surprised to see you there, but then, so are you to see him. He chuckles at that and asks you for direction, which you shyly give; when he asks about chairs, you lead him around the corner into Bag End's larger dining room, where the long table rests under a chandelier's cozy yellow light. Bilbo follows soon behind, peering skeptically at your little congregation with furrowed brows and muttered questions. The sound of the bell ringing yet again, however, distracts you from the hearty laughter of this new set of dwarf brothers. Tapping across Bag End's hardwood floor, you cross your cousin's home once more, slowly opening the great round door. Voices sound behind it, voices that increase in volume as Bag End opens wider to welcome them.

"I can't stop thinking about her. I tell you, Kee, she's going to be the death of me-"

"Ah!"

Perking up with a wide smile that quickly melts into more of a smirk and gets directed at his brother, there stands Kili before you.

“Well now, brother, look who it is!” Kili exclaims your name, still looking right at his elder sibling as he sticks a hand out your way. “Can you believe our good fortune?”

“No,” Fili answers with a smile, blue eyes never falling upon his brother from their gaze into yours, “I cannot.”

His eyes trace over from yours, catch sight of his flower still tucked up by your tresses, and he stumbles into your cousin’s home with parted, wordless lips. He stands so close to you you’d collide with a single step from either of you, finally darting his eyes away and surveying the warm light of Bag End.

“So this is the fabled hobbits’ home?”

“It is,” you agree.

“I love it,” he breathes, a glow of awe coloring his expression, “It suits you just like that flower. It’s cozy. Sweet. I can definitely foresee myself upon many a return visit here.”

“So are you Mister Boggins’s wife?” Kili interrupts, tone bordering on urgent.

“No,” you shake your head, “He’s my cousin. I’ve come to deliver him a loaf of bread, but what of travelers like yourselves? Why have you come to a party Bilbo was not even aware of hosting?”

Inching a wee bit closer, just a tad, Fili extends his hand just like before. Just like before you take it. Instead of pressing a kiss to it, though, this time he holds it fast, his grip strong and warm and sure. The hearth’s warmth feels much closer despite you standing at a door open to the night on the end farthest from it you could be.

“Could I interest you,” Fili asks, leaning so close as to almost whisper in your ear, “In an adventure?”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude @kpopgirlbtssvt @rivendell-poet | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🖤

[ghosty-writes-23]

Cat & Mouse. - Leon S Kennedy

!TAGS!: NSFW Content, !CONSENT IS KEY!, Brat Taming, Blowjob, Praise, No Condom, Hair Pulling, Biting, Marking, Rough Desk Sex, !Possible Part 2! (!MAYBE!)

Pairing: Detective!Leon + Criminal!Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “Catch Me If You Can, Detective Kennedy.” You were a sneaky little criminal that always seemed to slip though his fingers until one night…

Word Count: 2.9k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello everybody, yes I am returned with another one-shot, I’m sorry the smut scene isn’t so great this time, but I am slowly getting back into the rhythm of things, I’m going to try and get back onto of smut writing since I have more free time now, so please look out for new stories coming.

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

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18+ Content // Minors DO NOT Interact // 18+ Content.

It was a cold and wet winter night in the small town of Raccoon City, the streets were busy with city folk making their daily commute to either home after a long day of work exhausted or hungry, or heading to their night shifts because they had university classes or another job in the daytime.

The scene was peaceful but down an empty alleyway there was the sound of heels clicking and boots slamming against the cold wet concrete at a fast and heavy pace. It was a male police officer in pursuit of a female that was just slightly ahead of him, she always managed to slip through his fingers.

“Stop right there.” The police officer yelled, but the female just ignored him and rounded a corner and was meet by a dead end by a chain link fence, or so the officer thought, when her body hit the chain link fence the police officer pinned her against it, her arms above her head in his gloved hands in a tight grip.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily, not this time.” Leon growled in your ear causing a shiver to go down your spine. “You sure about that detective.” You smirked before you used your body weight to flip you guys over, so now he was pressed against the chain link fence, bit his grip was still tight on your wrist (Let’s be honest, he let you flip you both.)

The move had caught Leon by surprise, but he looked at you with his usual cold and stoic look. “is that so?” the older detective spoke in a low deep voice as he narrowed his baby blue eyes at you in an intense glare, but you just let out a sweet smile as you leaned in closer to him your sweet floral scent floating past in the cold breeze, your red lips brushed against his in a teasing manner, the lipstick leaving a faint red trail across his bottom lip, you could hear him suck in a soft breath as he looked at you with his eyes half lidded.

But as he was distracted your nimble gloved fingers slipped into the side of his belt and grabbed his handcuffs, moving your face closer to the soft skin of his neck, you placed a soft kisses there leaving a perfect imprint of your lipstick but also handcuffed his wrists to the chain link fence. “See you later handsome.” You purred before you used your cat-like reflexes and jumped over the chain link fence, your heel hitting the ground with a dull click, you could hear Leon complaining and cursing while you ran off disappearing into the night.

*A Couple Weeks Later*

It had been a couple of weeks since you had seen your beloved detective, you had been staying in your apartment since that night with Leon was a little too close for your comfort and you knew deep down you sometimes relied on Leon letting you go and not taking you in which you knew at some point he was going to catch you, but it was always fun seeing his frustrated face when you slipped through his fingers.

But tonight was the night of the grand president’s ball that was held every year, on the outside it looks like a normal get together for all politicians, government members such as secret service, police chief’s and any members of the public that have money or an influence over people, but in reality it was where corrupt deals and exchanges happen amongst the people of power freely without consequences.

But lucky for you tonight, you weren’t given an assignments so you had come to just enjoy the free drinks and mood and maybe even see if you could see a certain detective while you’re here. Tonight, you were dressed in a sleek black dress and heels, your makeup was light since you didn’t want to draw too much attention to yourself.

As you slipped your drink a woman walked over to you, she held what looked like a clipboard, she was dressed formally, she was one of the members of staff for this event. “I’m sorry Miss, but it seems your name is not on the list.” The woman said quietly if not to embarrass you knew this may have been a problem, but you always found a way around it. But just as you were about to speak another voice interrupted you.

“She’s with me.” Leon spoke as he walked toward you both, he was wearing a dark blue suit that matched his eyes and a white button up shirt and black dress shoes. “Darling your late, but with how you look, it was well worth the wait.” He says as he took your arm in his in a almost bone crushing grip, as you walked away you could see the female staff member swooning slightly at Leon’s words and display of public affection, it made you roll your eyes slightly as you followed Leon.

He had led you to a private room, once the door was closed his eyes went hard as he looked at you with a glare. “What the fuck are you doing here y/n?” he hissed at you as you closed your arms over your chest. “I’m working, just like you.” You say cooly as you looked at the older detective with a small smirk on your lips. “who are you working for?” Leon asks his gaze was fixed on your every move as if he was trying to predict If you were friend or foe in this moment, because deep down he didn’t want to have to hurt you, but he would if it really came to it.

“You know I don’t kiss and tell.” You say cheekily, as your gaze was fixed on him as well, you both could feel the tension that was between you two, it was always there when you two were together. “your stealing information and documents.” Leon says his voice was cold matching the stoic expression on his face. “I just get what my client wants, since they pay a very high price for their product.” You say as you walked over and leant against the desk and crossed your heeled legs, your gaze no leaving Leons.

“I’m not going to let you get away like the previous times.” Leon spoke, his voice was stern, and firm and it sent a shiver down your spin, causing you to bite you bottom lip slightly. “Catch me if you can detective Kennedy.” You taunted him slightly with a wide grin on your lips, you really enjoyed this little game of cat and mouse between you two it made you feel excited. You heard him slightly growl under his breath before he stalked over to you, your face’s inches apart as he rested his gloved hands against the desk behind you could smell the scent of his cologne.

“I will hunt you down over and over again if I have too.” He spoke his voice dropping a few octaves deeper as his blue eyes burned into yours, your lips were millimetres apart from each other, the older detective’s words sent a shiver down your spine and made your heart rate skip a beat before you moved in closer and brushed your lips against his, just like the first time in that alleyway. “And I’ll slip through your fingers every single time.” You teased him softly with a small huff of a laugh.

It seemed your words had an effect on him because the next moment he is grabbing your hips and pulling you closer before your lips meet his in an intense and passionate kiss, you kissed him almost immediately as your hands moved to grip the jacket of his suit and pull him even closer to you as a soft noise left your lips as you bit his bottom lip and tugged on it, your lipstick was smudged on Leon’s lips as well, but soon Leon pulled away from the kiss, you both were breathing heavily.

“You’re such a fucking brat.” Leon growled as he grabbed out his handcuffs and placed them around your wrists and clicked them into place. “You know you love it.” You teased him back before your roughly pushed down to your knees, your knees hitting the ground with a dull thud, you knew this time it wasn’t going to be loving or gentle and that made your pussy clench in anticipation and need.

As he was undoing the buckle on his belt you took the fly of his pants zipper between your teeth and pulled it down in a teasing manner as you looked up at him innocently. “Is this what you wanted huh?” Leon asked as his gloved fingers threaded into your hair and pushed your face into his clothed bulge.

His scent alone with enough to make your brain go all fuzzy, you inhaled causing a soft whine to leave your lips as you lolled your tongue out and began to lick his bulge over underwear like the desperately and needy thing you were. “Yes, I’m sorry for being a brat.” You say innocently with a swipe of your tongue, a wet patch was forming, and you could faintly taste his precum through his briefs.

“you’re a bad lier sweetheart.” Leon says as he grinded his bulge against your face, teasing you since there was a barrier of his brief’s. A soft whines leaves your lips as you hated the barrier between you and his cock.

After a few more whines and nuzzles into his thigh, Leon finally pulled his brief’s down slightly and your eyes lit up like lights on a Christmas tree, you eagerly gave his cock a few licks and kisses and humming softly at the taste before you took him in your mouth, your pillowy lips wrapping around the tip of his cock as you sucked in your cheeks and started to bob your head at a slow rhythm making sure to savour this moment.

You made soft suckling noise as you took him deeper with every stroke, he felt heavy on your tongue, the weight providing you a sense of comfort that you have only experienced with this man, you used your tounge to touch every ridge, bump and vein as if you were trying to commit the memory of his cock to your brain.

“Such a good girl when your mouth is full.” Leon taunts slightly as the fingers in your hair were helping guide your head as your warm and wet mouth glided down his cock with practiced ease. You wanted to glare at him for his words, but you were so lost in pleasure that you didn’t care what he called you or said, so you just stayed there like his obedient good girl soaking up the pleasure he was giving you, because at the end of the day you just wanted to be his good girl.

As you bobbed your head, he was occasionally hit the back of your throat, causing tears to well up on the corner of your eyes, as well you’re your jaw was starting to hurt as your mouth accommodated his size, but you quickly blinked the tears away and ignored the pain in your jaw focusing on pleasing him.

“Since you have been a good girl, do you want a treat?” Leon asked as he slightly tightened his grip on your hair, you could feel him twitching on your tongue, he was close. You nodded your head as you looked up at him through your lashes, the older detective gave you a small smirk as he began to thrust into your throat causing you to choke slightly, your cuffed hands were planted on the ground to try and keep you steady as Leon used your mouth like his own personal toy.

After a few moments he gave a grunt before he buried his cock down your throat and came, you gagged at the sudden intrusion, but you swallowed as much as you could before he slowly withdraw from causing you to cough and slightly gasp for air. “You okay?” Leon asks when he hears your pant like breaths, you nod your head taking a few deep breaths before you looked up at him with your makeup all smudged. “I’m good.” You reassure him because even if the scene are rough, Leon always likes to make sure your okay and if you really need to you can use your safe word.

“Good because I’m not done with you.” Leon says making you bite your lip at what he has planned next for you, after a bit of shuffling Leon had you bend over the desk, your cuffed wrists hanging over the edge as he was pulling up the bottom of your dress now, you knew he wasn’t going to eat you as a punishment, but you knew his cock was good if not even better then his tongue, but you don’t like to pick favorites.

The older detective pulled up the bottom of your dress and rested it on your back as a needy growl left his lips, you had decided to not wear panties tonight as the seams and edges of your panties would have been visible through the dress.

“Fucking hell.” You heard him course under his breath when he noticed how wet you were, a soft giggle left your lips as you wiggled your hips enticingly as you heard him. “this will have to be quick.” He grunted as you felt him grinding against you, he was bare and slightly soft from his orgasm before, but you could feel him hardening again against your folds as he used your slick to coat his cock because he knew he didn’t need any lube with how wet you were, what can you say you like a dominant man in uniform or a suit.

“Okay, wait do you have a con-.” You start to say before your cut off as a soft gasp leaves your lips as he started to move inside of you causing a whine like moan to leave your lips as his cock stretches your pussy, “That’s it sweetheart, take every inch of me like the good little slut you are.” He says huskily as he pressed more inches inside you until he bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass, the stretch made your eyes roll to the back of your head as you felt a wave of pleasure crash into you like a tidal wave.

Your pussy clenched around him you could feel every ridge, bump and vein. You could feel every ridge, bump and vein of his cock, it was hardening inside you making a slight tremble run through your body as you gripped the edge of the desk, he always filled you perfectly as if you were made for each other. Once he was fully inside you let out a shakey breath before you started to move your hips back matching the pace of his slow but deep thrusts, it felt as if he was in your gut, this was so much better without a condom you don’t know if you will be able to go back after this.

The sound of your sweet moans and cries as well as Leon’s grunts and curses and the sound of your bodies colliding together filled the room, you couldn’t believe you were being bent over a random person’s desk at a government related event getting your pussy pounded by the detective that is meant to be putting you in prison for your crimes, not fucking you like a lover or random hookup, it made this situation feel more dangerous as there was a risk of getting caught.

“Fuck Leon.” You cursed softly, his name falling from your lips sweetly in a gentle moan before you felt one of his gloved hands moving to your hair and pulled it back slightly exposing your throat to him, to which he started to kiss and bite leaving little marks as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, pounding into you from behind, the slight pain from him tugging on your hair caused you to arch your back and slight tighten at the pleasure filled sensation.

“You going to cum for me sweetheart.” Leon asked against your neck, you could tell he was close too because you could feel his choke twitching inside of you. “yes.” You moan out soft as you moved your hips to his rhythm, your thighs were trembling at this point, with one last thrust you came biting into your hand to muffle your moans as you felt Leon’s teeth sink into the soft part of your neck, you felt him soon follow as he filled your pussy.

*After A Couple Moments.*

You two finally had caught your breath, Leon had pulled out of you carefully with a soft pop before he cleaned himself up and helped you off the table, the cuffs where still around your wrist which caused you took look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Am I under arrest now detective?” you ask him with a small smile as you watched him fix his hair and the mess you both had made on the poor persons desk.

“I’m going to be taking you in.” Leon says as he grabs you by your cuffed wrists, your chest lightly bumping into his as he looked at you with a slight smirk. “but we still have some unfinished business.” He says and in that moment you knew this was just the beginning of a very passionate night between you and your little detective possibly in the back of his patrol car before he takes you to the police station.

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[taffywabbit]

idk if i'm way off the mark on this, but the way some people are responding to that Guillermo del Toro interview about the decline of studio animation is a bit frustrating to me. specifically the bit where he talks about "emoji animation" and how everything is over-animated and pushed too far and things are rarely allowed to not be ultra-cartoony (y'know, because animation always needs to be marketable to children who are never trusted to have attention spans, right?). like, i think he's generally correct about it! but some folks are taking the wrong message away from that.

i've seen people going off about how "soulless" and "corporate" various recent examples are, and talking about these pieces of media as though they're the result of some kind of personal failing or lack of skill/range on the part of the animators, and it's just like. do people realize that's the only animation you're usually allowed to DO in the industry, unless you get incredibly lucky and land yourself on a project/studio that's unusually cool?

when i was in college for animation it was literally drilled into us nonstop that everything had to be pushed more, that exaggeration was not a guideline or a sometimes-treat but a hard rule that always had to be applied regardless of what was going on, because the viewer couldn't be trusted to pick up on subtlety and we sure as hell couldn't be trusted to convey it. you ever wonder why there's such a specific vibe to a lot of self-directed student films, particularly ones that are focused on character acting/interaction or deep emotions and introspection (especially when there's minimal/no dialogue)? it's because for a lot of young animators, they haven't had the freedom to experiment with realism and subtlety up to that point and they're likely not going to have it again for a while (or at all, unless their career path leads to higher positions where they might have more creative direction over the things they work on. which also becomes a lot less likely if they're anything other than a cishet white dude, for what it's worth).

i would LOVE to see more nuanced, realistic, understated motion and acting in animation. i WANT more characters to be able to express what they're feeling through natural body language and facial cues and for scenes to allow me to breathe instead of spelling everything out in giant bold flashing text all the time. what del Toro wants to see changed in the animation industry sounds great, and i hope others join him in seeking to revamp what modern animation is allowed to be.

but as things currently stand, and as they've stood for a long while now, most artists doing the grunt work on the shows and movies you see are completely at the mercy of corporations and networks who have a vested interest in producing a very specific kind of marketable and cost-efficient media all the time. (and by extension that style is ALSO what's taught in most animation schools, because their job more than anything is to grind you down into a perfect little sweatshop worker who will bend over backwards to meet quotas and get your work approved and not question the higher-ups, even if you have little to no personal investment in the projects you're working on, so that the studios who employ you can maintain their good reputations or whatever)

anyways idk what my point was here, this really just sorta became a rant and my views have undoubtedly been coloured by my own personal experiences (this kinda shit is largely why i dropped out before my last year of animation school, for the record).

i guess just be kind to folks in the animation industry? they've had it fucking rough nonstop for well over a century (the majority of them are still not unionized and there's HUGE pushback against doing so in many places). i assure you they are doing their best to infuse the latest uninspired illumination flick or weird spinoff kids' show with literally any amount of soul they can. you don't have to like the stuff that gets produced by any means! be a hater! i'm certainly not gonna stop you. just remember where these creative decisions come from and why these conditions exist, and consider that when YOU watched something and thought "hmm that could've been done better", you can bet your ass someone actually working on it probably thought the same thing but couldn't do anything about it. these things WILL change as the industry itself improves, but in the meantime folks have to pay their rent, and that usually means doing what they're told and working in a way that will minimize revisions and meet quotas so they can keep their jobs. it sucks, but it is what it is.

[felassan]

Some dev comments on the DA:TV acting cast reveal :)

Text reads:

Corinne: "👀👀👀" Corinne: "Such wonderfully talented people! Love y’all 💜" Corinne: "They’re so good!" Michael: "One of my absolute fav actors. The love I have for Javik." Carly: "Erika does such a good job 🙏✨" Brian: "When you make a game like this, you hear the same lines over and over again during the course of development. I never get tired of hearing these performances though. They're such a great cast." Crystal: "I am SO excited to finally announce our Cast. This wonderfully talented group of actors bring our characters to life and I could never pick a favorite- they are all so amazing in their own ways! I cannot wait for y'all to meet them in Dragon Age: The Veilguard!" Derek: "You asked for it. 😊'' Malcolm: "Hey, look at all these awesome people whose voices I've spent the last three years listening to :D All four Rooks are fantastic, I'm so curious to see who people go with - Erika Ishii has been my default pick for a while" Malcolm: "One the best parts of the DA reveals coming out for me personally is that I can finally explain to people why I named my 12 foot skeleton Manfred" Brianne: "Some of the lovely voice cast for Dragon Age: The Veilguard" John: "some of the extremely talented voice actors in The Veilguard!" Trick: "So happy to see that we've announced the actors for Rook and the companions! It has been such a pleasure listening to these amazing folks, and I can't wait for the rest of you all to get to hear them."

[source, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen]