#ripples and repercussions

[eowyn35-blog]

Does anyone else feel like we moved past The Twilight Zone and straight into The Outer Limits?

[vorashvan-a]

miiiiight just take bellara lutare from bioware's hands in general and write everything about her myself. miiiiight sprinkle in some self-written companion quests. miiiiight add more nuance and conflicts to the story

[crazywolf828]

Listen I've only seen clips from the debate and like. I get it, they're politicians, regardless they both suck. I don't want to hype up Kamala past a point she doesn't deserve cause yeah she has some shitty stuff but people who are on the fence for voting? People who aren't sure about a POC woman as president? Or are considering rebelling by going 3rd party? They need that hype. They need all the shit that trump's cult has got going on. They will vote for him no matter what, even though he was shit in that debate they will vote for him.

I wish it didn't work this way but some people need the memes and jokes and all of that hype to decide on their vote. It's shit I know but godamn if it keeps people from voting 3rd party and splitting the vote and keeps that fuckwad out of office it's worth it

[syn4k]

doc: so yknow since i was building crazy projects i went ahead and got a world backup, yknow you have to have OP to get world downloads so if something goes catastrophically wrong we'll have a safety net yknow

i mean i figured he had something like that going on, the hermits know what we're doing and doc is extremely responsible and serious when it comes to wack-ass risky shit like this but also maybe it's a bit of a worrying sign that he's using this as a precaution. Like I don't think this is normal measures for people to take during a prank war but then again this isnt a normal server and doc isn't a normal man when it comes to committment to revenge (within reason)

[fudgeez]

The Weight of Their Gaze - AESPA X FEM READER

Synopsis: When Le Sserafim's youngest member, Y/N, silences a scandal-mongering MC, she unknowingly ignites a dangerous obsession within Aespa. What starts as admiration morphs into a chilling possessiveness.

masterlist

Warnings : 18+ | yandere poly ot4 | men and minors dni

The MC, known for provoking drama, brings up recent controversies surrounding HYBE (Le Sserafim's label). Their questions are phrased to subtly imply Le Sserafim's involvement or responsibility, clearly aiming for a dramatic reaction.

The crimson velvet curtains shimmered as Le Sserafim took the stage. The roar of the crowd—a tidal wave of light and sound—washed over Y/N, the youngest member. She stood beside her unnies, a serene smile playing on her lips, but her sharp, observant eyes scanned the audience.

Tonight was a big night, the culmination of months of hard work. But the air crackled with a tension Y/N couldn't ignore. She had felt the weight of unseen eyes on her and her group since they had entered the venue, a palpable intensity radiating from a table near the front.

The MC, a man known for his controversial questions, stepped forward, his smile predatory.

"Le Sserafim, congratulations on your recent successes! But, of course, there’s been… well, let’s talk about your label. How do you, as a group, navigate these turbulent times? I mean, you have a big reputation, and you're one of the top girl groups."

The question hung in the air, thick with unspoken accusations. Y/N's unnies exchanged worried glances, their discomfort evident. The pressure to respond diplomatically was heavy.

A fierce, protective instinct surged within Y/N. Before anyone else could speak, she stepped forward, her voice calm and steady.

"Oh, you mean the issue that has absolutely nothing to do with us and everything to do with people meddling in things that don’t concern them? Yes, we're fully aware of the public's fascination with irrelevant matters. We're also aware that we’re here to celebrate the award music, not entertain gossip."

A wave of gasps rippled through the audience, echoed by the other idols present at the event. This was quickly followed by applause.

The MC, his smile faltering, stammered out a hasty transition to the next segment.

As Le Sserafim returned to their seats, they could clearly hear the murmurs from the other idols.

"Daebak!"

"I think she deserves to be the leader."

And many more.

As Y/N walked back, her gaze briefly locked with Aespa.

Karina, the leader, felt a surge of admiration for the maknae’s unwavering protectiveness. Giselle, a smirk playing on her lips, was captivated by the sharp wit that had effortlessly sliced through the tension. Winter, her gaze intense, was drawn to the quiet confidence radiating from Y/N. And Ningning, her eyes gleaming, saw the hidden fire beneath the composed surface.

"She’s… something," Ningning murmured, her voice barely audible above the applause.

"More than something," Karina replied, her eyes never leaving Y/N.

Y/N's POV

As soon as we arrived backstage, a wave of idols approached, offering words of encouragement.

"Fighting!"

"That was amazing, Y/N!"

"You really spoke up for your group. Respect!"

Their support warmed my heart, but a lingering weight still pressed down on my chest. I knew that while I had defended Le Sserafim, the consequences of my words were inevitable.

The moment we stepped into our waiting room, our manager was already there, arms crossed and an exasperated look on her face.

"Y/N, you know what will happen," she said, her voice sharp yet controlled.

I met her gaze and simply nodded. I had expected this. Speaking out on live television was never without repercussions, but I refused to let my group be treated unfairly. No one deserved to be put on the spot like that, especially when we were there to celebrate our hard work, not answer baseless gossip.

"I know," I replied, my voice steady. I sank onto the sofa, letting out a quiet sigh.

Sakura unnie, always the warmest, sat beside me and gently placed a hand on my arm.

"Thank you, maknae, but next time, let us handle it, okay?" she said softly before pulling me into a hug.

I leaned into her warmth, feeling the silent support from my members. They understood why I had spoken up, but they also worried for me.

Kazuha chuckled, shaking her head. "That was so cool, though. You really shut him down."

Chaewon unnie smirked. "The way his smile just disappeared? Priceless."

Eunchae giggled beside her. "Maknae on top for real!"

Despite the tension, laughter filled the room, easing the atmosphere. I smiled, feeling a little lighter knowing they had my back.

After a while, I felt a dryness in my throat and decided to get a soft drink. Our manager, who had softened slightly, offered to go instead, but I shook my head.

"I’ll go. I just need a moment alone," I assured her.

She sighed but nodded, and I stepped out into the quiet hallway.

The cool air brushed against my skin as I made my way toward the vending machine. The distant hum of activity from the main event still echoed faintly, but here, away from the flashing lights and probing eyes, I finally had a moment to breathe.

As I reached into my pocket for change, I heard footsteps approaching. Before I could turn, a familiar voice called out my name.

As I reached into my pocket for change, a cold can was suddenly pressed into my hand.

Startled, I looked up, my fingers curling instinctively around the drink.

"You looked like you needed this,"

a voice murmured.

I turned and found myself face-to-face with Giselle. Her smile was gentle—too gentle. There was something deliberate in her presence, as if she had been waiting for the perfect moment to step in.

"Thank you Sunbae," I said, my tone even. My eyes, however, narrowed slightly. I hadn’t missed the way aespa had been watching me throughout the night, their glances lingering just a bit too long. This encounter didn’t feel like mere coincidence.

Giselle tilted her head slightly, studying me with an unreadable expression. "You were amazing up there," she continued, her tone warm yet measured. "You really handled that situation with class."

"Thank you," I replied again—polite, but cautious. Compliments were nice, but I wasn’t naive. There was more to this conversation than admiration.

Before I could step away, another presence joined us—Winter.

"We were all really impressed," she said, her voice smooth, gaze locking onto mine. "It's admirable."

A shiver traced down my spine. Something about the way she said it, the way her gaze lingered, felt heavier than the words themselves.

I could feel it—the weight of their attention. The way they were analyzing me, dissecting every response, every movement.

Giselle crossed her arms, leaning casually against the vending machine. "Not everyone has it, though."

I took a sip of my drink, letting the cool liquid ease my throat. "No, they don’t."

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. A quiet challenge.

Then, the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Winter. Giselle."

Karina’s voice cut through the tension, steady and unreadable. I turned just as she stopped a few feet away, arms folded, watching the exchange with an expression that was hard to decipher. Behind her, Ningning’s sharp gaze flickered between me and the others, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

Winter and Giselle exchanged a glance before stepping back slightly.

"We were just talking," Winter said, her tone laced with something unspoken.

Karina nodded once, then shifted her gaze to me. There was something there—understanding, curiosity… maybe even respect.

Giselle smirked. "See you around, Y/N."

Winter hesitated for a fraction of a second before following, casting me one last glance before disappearing down the hall with the others.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I wasn’t sure what they wanted just yet—but something told me this wouldn’t be the last time I’d find myself under their watchful eyes.

I wasn’t wrong.

Because now, here I was in the same room as Aespa once again. Giselle and Ningning, their bodies bare and gleaming in the soft light, moved with a fluid grace, their attention solely focused on me. Their kisses, once fleeting and tentative, were now deep and possessive, branding me as theirs. The taste of their lip gloss, a mix of sweet berries and something subtly metallic, filled my senses, a constant reminder of their claim.

My skin burned where their touches lingered, a mix of fear and an unwelcome, confusing heat. Their hands explored every curve and hollow of my body, their touch both reverent and demanding. I tried to push them away, to create some semblance of space, but they were relentless, their movements coordinated and purposeful.

Karina and Winter sat on a nearby armchair, their expressions unreadable. They watched the scene unfold with a detached intensity, their eyes gleaming with a possessive satisfaction. There was no pity, no remorse, only a cold, calculating hunger.

The memory faded, replaced by the reality of their touch, their kisses, their overwhelming presence. I was trapped, caught in their web, their obsession with a suffocating blanket. I could feel their desire, their hunger, their need to possess me completely.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," Giselle murmured, her lips trailing down my neck. "So perfect."

"We're going to take care of you," Ningning whispered, her voice laced with a dark possessiveness. "We're going to protect you from everything."

Their words, meant to reassure, only fueled my fear. I knew that their protection was a cage, their love a suffocating hold. I was theirs, body and soul, and I didn't know if I would ever escape.

[ceilidho]

prompt: vegas wedding (ghost/reader)

-

Your fingers trail over to the other side of the bed and touch something solid.

It jolts your body back into itself, mind awake when you register the heat of warm skin where there shouldn’t be skin. Not next to you in bed. The other side of your bed is usually cold to the touch, the sheets still pressed and tucked in place, undisturbed because you tend to stick to your side. They’re rumpled now, the sheets; tented under the body next to yours. 

You open your eyes only to instantly shut them. There’s an ache in your forehead that throbs when the sunlight filtering in through the gap in the windowblinds hits your eyes. You remember drinking the night before, but not much more than that. Actually, you don’t remember much from the night before besides getting dressed up in the hotel room with your friend before parting ways in the casino. 

Getting out of bed feels like it takes every ounce of energy left stored in your poor, aching bones. You turn on your side ever so carefully before shimmying out of bed, woozy enough when you stand up that you have to grab onto the bedside table to keep from crumbling into a ball on the floor. 

It sparkles in the light when you happen to glance down. One big, gaudy rhinestone in the centre and then a band of diamonds all the way around. It’s heavy on your finger, accentuated by the emotional weight and repercussions of it that threaten to actually make you topple over this time. 

“No, no, no, no,” you whisper to yourself, trying to pull it off and wincing when it doesn’t budge past your knuckle. Too small. You must have really shoved it on the night before. 

You wince at the thought of how much work it’ll be to take it off. Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt though—it catches around your knuckle, but rests perfectly when you push it back down to sit on your finger like a ring should. 

The man under the covers—it’s an assumption, you’ll admit it as you don’t know for sure that it’s a man—makes a noise, shifting in his sleep. Your blood coagulates in your veins as your head whips over your shoulder to watch him carefully for any sign of wakefulness. For the first time since waking up, you get a glimpse of the man probably wearing a ring matching yours and he—well, he really takes up his side of the bed. 

The big lump under the covers doesn’t move as you stare at him. You don’t allow yourself more than a glance, charting the slope of his back muscles and the top of his dirty blond hair. He lies on his stomach, cheek pressed into the pillow facing away from you, obscuring his face. Probably better for you.

Still fighting the urge to scramble out of the hotel room with your things, you allow yourself one smug moment. He’s handsome, whoever he is—you’ve certainly pulled worse. More to your credit, you somehow talked him into getting hitched in Vegas. His back rises with every breath; you stare for a while and wait for the periodic soft, gruff noises that he makes in his sleep. When he turns over onto his back, you muffle a squeak when the covers tent under his barely covered morning wood and slowly back away and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

The shower doesn’t help at all; it just prolongs your panic attack that worsens every time you glance at the door and imagine the man sleeping in your hotel bed waking up on the other side. It does feel good to wash off the grime from the night before, however, scrubbing every nook and cranny of your body. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you come out, only a complementary hotel robe wrapped around you. You freeze. Big shoulders undulate when he rolls them back, stretching them out after a long night’s sleep. When he stretches an arm up to scratch his upper back, you almost whimper at the way his arm bulges. 

“Thought you could sneak out, is that right?” he grunts, his accented voice rippling down your spine. You hadn’t expected it to come out of his mouth, not this large, blue collar-looking man with his muscled pectorals and the bit of pudge around his middle, softness that comes with labour and not vanity. He drags his hand over the scruff growing on his face, only slightly darker than the hair on his head.

“…I’m not really sure what to say,” you blurt out, reflexively tightening the belt cinching your robe in place. Conscious that your day-old clothes are still sitting in a pile on the bathroom floor, nothing underneath your robe. 

The man stares at your chest like he knows it too. “‘Course you do, love. Probably would’ve skipped off if I hadn’t gotten up, tail tucked between your legs.” His stare flicks down to your legs then, eyes growing heated, half-lidded. You frown.

“That’s how this goes, isn’t it? We, uh, do…this…that…last night or whatever,” you stutter out, face hotter than you’re comfortable with it being, “and then we go our separate ways. That’s what I’d expect from anyone.”

“‘Anyone’ isn’t wearing my ring on her finger,” he points out, tilting his chin towards your hand. You hide it behind your back. 

“That was an…” you clear your throat, “unfortunate detail. I can fix it though, I swear, just…just give me your email or something and I’ll send you the papers.”

This is precisely the most uncomfortable moment of your life. Thus far, anyway. You’ve had worse things happen to you, but as far as uncomfortable things go, little else comes close to subtly implying that you’ll serve a man whose name you don’t even know divorce papers. It’s certainly not what you expected from a weekend girls’ trip to Vegas.

He tilts his head, eyes locked on you. “Don’t worry about all that, love.”

“Why? Do you—I can give you my email address instead, if you want to…if you have a lawyer friend that’ll help.”

“No. Don’t need help with something that isn’t gonna happen.”

You can feel your temper getting the better of you. This whole weekend is shaping up to be a bigger headache than just the hangover you’re nursing. “A divorce—I’m talking about getting divorced, if that isn’t clear.”

“It is. It just isn’t happening.”

He’s being far too casual, unconcerned with your fists clenching at your sides, eyes lazily sweeping you up and down. He yawns like a big cat. 

“What are you talking about?” you hiss, taking a step towards him. Trying to seem intimidating even though your heart is beating erratically in your chest. “You can’t just say no. This shit happens and then—why wouldn’t it happen? It’s just a divorce!”

“Don’t believe in divorce, love. I gave my word.”

His words hit you so hard that it briefly rocks you out of your headache. “That’s so—that’s so stupid! It’s practically an annulment anyway! We didn’t even, you know—” your voice drops to a whisper, embarrassed, “—consummate it.”

“Maybe didn’t get to the whole course, but we didn’t do nothing,” he teases. A subtle thing, barely a twitch of his lip to let you know that he’s toying with you. Men like him toy with their prey like cats with a mouse. 

He probably isn't wrong. You might remember it with time, but he looks like a man that’s seen you naked. It’s an infuriating look. 

“Look, I’ve got—my friends are probably wondering where I am anyway.”

“Give ‘em a call; you can tell ‘em you spent the night with your husband.” No mistaking it now, the heat in his eyes. Nor the blankets bunched in his lap in lieu of his clothes, a fact you’d been carefully not letting yourself focus on for fear that you’d wind up just staring at his crotch. 

Like you are now, helpless to do anything as he drags the sheet away, letting it slip off the bed. His thighs are dusted in dark, coarse hairs, wide enough that you could comfortably sit on one of them. He gives one a pat too, beckoning you towards him. 

“Come back to bed,” he suggests, dick resting red and heavy against his stomach, big enough that you know you would’ve remembered having that inside you even if you’d blacked out. “Let me wake my wife up the right way.”

[honestlyanowl]

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN)

Content: nsfw - modern au, drug usage, punishment sex, fingering, brattish sub!reader x top!caitlyn

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You yelped as her hand left a large red mark over your thigh, legs wobbling together, making a futile kick as she pried them back open.

“What? You think you can always get away with this shit?” Caitlyn’s accent was heavy, and smothered in an appalled tone.

She was pissed.

“I told you I didn’t want you out in that- fucking dress!” Her free hand clawed into your hip as she slammed her hand forward, stuffing her slender fingers deeper into you.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, eyelashes fluttering, and your hands desperately grabbing at Caitlyn’s shoulders.

“Brat!” Her voice rasped, and you swear for a moment you saw white, your abused walls clamping down around the digits in a panic.

You felt like you were being split open.

All over that stupid dress, that one time you decided to just do what you wanted- selfishly thinking you would be able to take the repercussions.

A harsh slap to your clit send you reeling back to reality; sharp tingles rushing through your abdomen.

“C-cait! Can’t- take it..!” You cry, pupils blown wide with the linger of alcohol, and maybe the fact she almost had four fingers forced into you.

You knew you should’ve listened, and yet you decided to be ignorant, wearing a dress that showed off far too much cleavage for strangers, and a material that clung to your curves like shrink plastic.

“And I can’t take your bullshit,” Caitlyn raises her thumb and applied an almost painful amount of pressure onto your clit, “Fucking slut.”

Your abdominal muscles rippled under the tight pressure building in your core, every time you’d try to reply the air would be knocked out of you.

Her nails dig into your walls, and even her fingers seemed to momentarily tense, unsure if she’d drawn blood.

“Answer me!” Caitlyn’s spare hand lifted to hold your leg up, not allowing you to close them again.

“No! N-no.. not a- slut!”

Caitlyn lets up on the pace a little, watching the way you gasped and writhed under her, who did you think you were?

“Hng- hah~!” Your throat burnt from the strain of your lewd noises, back arching off the mattress as small stars began to brim your vision.

Caitlyn cocked a brow, pulling her fingers from you a second before you were able to reach the peak of your high.

“Did I say you could cum..?”

God, you barely got to see her like this ever, and it was so different compared to her usual self, though, not that you really minded.

You shook your head, that sweet curl that’d built in your stomach had vanished, and it left you in a unsatisfied mess.

“Noo! M’pleasse.. cait..” you mewl and whimper, hands reaching up to her like a starved puppy.

She cooed down at you, wiping the fingers off on the sheets.

“Do you deserve it..?” She scoffed, observing the way you squealed and pleaded with her, and yet she refused to do more than look at you, with a knowing gaze.

“I’ll have to think on it.” She muses whilst standing, straightening out her expensive gown and tossing a cloth blindly toward you.

You felt a tad humiliated, but at least it wasn’t as tense as the drive home had been.

“Clean yourself, then we’ll talk.”

I’ll admit it’s not the best smut I’ve written but I did the majority of this in a public cafe, cut me some slack 😭🙏

- Owl 🧸

[emptyjunior]

It looks like with the movies taking off, everyone is on the Dune train now!! Which is very exciting, I’m glad a bunch of new people are discovering this media and reading the books, but can I recommend you the David Lynch, Dune (1984) movie.

First of all, if you are invested in the lore of the books and the deeper messaging of the story, you’re going to need to turn that part of your brain Off. If you love kick ass shit and are willing to be slightly tipsy while you watch and have a great goddamn afternoon, this is the flick for you.

Now first fun fact I’m going to share with you. David Lynch (twin peaks, eraserhead director, celebrated surrealist) turned down the opportunity to direct Return of the Jedi for this film. A film that was devastatingly slow to make, changed hands multiple times, had a pricy VFX budget of $40 million and then made barely $31 million, David Lynch turned down Star Wars to work on it. And he did this when he had never read the novel, and did not even like or engage with sci fi media. THAT’S how you know we’re really in for something.

Now this film has some big names in it! We’ve got a young Kyle MacLachlan who is rocking some Devastating outfits:

We’ve got Sir Patrick Stewert as our Gurney and Sting, lead singer of the police, playing the 15 year old Feyd Rautha! If you wanted to see a grown man, sprayed orange, basically naked playing a free wheeling maniac you are in for a treat! And another fun fact, David Lynch also did not know who these actors were, he made a mistake and thought Patrick Stewert was someone else and when Sting said he was in the police he assumed he was in an organization of lawmen.

Now these characters are familiar to you, but let me get into the unfamiliar. Lynch made some directorial executive decisions throughout this film, for I suppose the ease of the viewer? I mean an adaptation is supposed to adapt so he went let me change some stuff up👏👏👏.

Those who paid attention to Jessica’s backstory may know about the Weirding Way. This is a martial arts style created by the Bene Gesserit, and practiced by Paul. It is more than just a fighting style but also an important philosophical concept, like Aikido or how Kung Fu has foundations in Buddhism.

You may also be familiar with the quote “My name is a killing word.” This inner monologue of Paul’s refers to how his title Muad’dub will be used to spur a holy war. A simple name is what people will die and bleed for, it will be what they scream as they cut down enemies.

Dark! Intense! That’s Dune, anyways in the novel it’s easy to take your time exploring these concepts. Introducing the audience to the religious ramifications of a simple name and fighting practice and how these things can have rippling repercussions upon a society like the Freman.

Now David Lynch didn’t have time for that! He had the belief (that may be right🤷‍♂️!) That watching a bunch of people kick each other on top of a sand dune would be Lame😭😭

So he made the choice for his film that “My name is a killing word” was to be taken Absolutely Literally and invented a device where if the freman said the name Muad-dib, shit would explode.

If they said Paul’s name, they could Explode Stuff. Let it sink in how rad that is. Hell yeah man, hell yeah. Imagine me interpreting religious text that way, imagine if I made a bible movie and the moral I took from a parable is that when Jesus asked for food and everyone donated fish, I concluded that Jesus was a mutant who had fish powers and could immediately conjure fish with magic and gave him fish death rays that shot out of his hands.

So that’s what you can expect from this interpretation, the weirding way now means everyone has Lasers its rad as hell.

Some other incredible choices made! This is a spoiler, but in the novels and the new films you can see the Freman collecting every scrap of water they can. Dr Liet-Kynes, the planetologist, reveals to us it’s because they have a long, multiple generation spanding plan to fix the planet. By introducing this water back they hope to reset the ecosystem over centuries of work. The reason they have been unable to do this is because a green planet would obviously not have worms and sand who produce spice, the most coveted drug in the empire, so imperial and harkonnen forces have been stopping this from ever happening. They want to be free from oppression so that they can start to work on slowly fixing their world, a project that plays out in Paul’s adult life and has its own dramas and complexities.

In Dune 1984??? The moment, the Moment Paul lays out his cousin and throws the final punch, it begins to rain in Arrakis. As if they were all under a magical curse and were just waiting for a teenager to come fight another teenager and then the water will come back. It’s so good, it’s so funny.

Also Pugs! House Atreides official Pugs! Paul has pugs in his lap!!

This is honestly an adaptation choice that I really really like! Paul is the result of centuries of selective breeding, this practice is an artform to the Bene Gesserit and a skill that they monitor closely. It produces bizarre and sometimes terrifying results and is the reason for Paul’s existence.

I think having an animal that was also created through selective breeding, was engineered from a wolf into an animal that can hardly breathe is an incredible metaphor! A smart and identifiable symbol for the audience, I think it’s a slam dunk and the new movies should have done it to.

Anyways can not recommend this film enough.

-The body suits the bad guys wear are made out of real body bags, that actually had been used.

-David Lynch to this day hates it.

-The original cut was four hours.

-The cast and crew were sick the Entire shoot with something they called Montezuma's Revenge, which was probably just food poisoning, side effects from the constant smog because they shot the whole thing on backup generators, illness from the cockroach infestation and terrible morale.

-Frank Herbert saw it multiple times and said he absolutely loved it.

-When they ride the worms, sick rock jams play.

If you love electric guitar, lasers, worms and will forgive me for not including all the trigger warnings cause Yes this film will gross you out, then go watch this movie.

[solrabi]

Lucid Submission - prologue

(feudal lord!sukuna x reader)

Synopsis:

The fearsome demon king, Sukuna Ryomen, is reborn as an immortal human man as punishment for ruining the balance of good and evil in the divine realm.

To lift his curse and return to his original form, Sukuna must complete the condition bestowed upon him by the deities.

However, it requires him to have a child with the street thief who stole his coin pouch.

fanfic masterlist

Inyo, ying and yang, Shiva-Shakti, good and evil. 

Every belief is built based on the balance between opposites. When that balance is tipped over or disrespected, there are serious repercussions, no matter what being committed the act. 

The demon king’s hair was like pink sakura, blowing in the harsh winds of the Realm of  Judgment. With his head hung low, all he could see were visions of the souls he had eaten. Clean souls trying to enter the afterlife. Clean souls that had the misfortune of having to cross his domain when he was feeling particularly ravenous.

The divine courtroom was a beautiful yet chilling site, with golden clouds and striking blue thunder visible from the Pavillion of Divine Punishment. A dry storm building static on every cursed hair on the demon king’s body. 

“The deities have decided- you will receive the ultimate punishment for ingesting all the human souls on that fateful day,” a black-haired god boomed from his seat across the Pavillion. Striking black eyes trained on the large figure kneeling before him.

“You, Sukuna Ryomen, will be reborn as an immortal human being. You will not have any of your divine powers on earth. To lift your cursed punishment, you will look for the other half of this divine marble.” 

A bluish, almost black, hemispherical object floats towards Sukuna’s face. The demon still didn’t look up. Pride and shame conflict in his head. “Only when you meet the human woman with the other half of your marble will you be allowed to lift your curse and return to your former glory. You are allowed one question regarding your curse. Ask wisely.”

Sukuna raises his head slowly, eyes filled with hatred and vengeance. “How will I know that the human has my pearl?”

“The eyes. The human will have eyes like no other.”

The hearing was then concluded with the thunderous slam of the Divine Mallet. 

Snow is a natural cushion for all kinds of sounds. Even the loudest of pants sound like whispers, which is why the entire town of Seion is so quiet this winter morning. Thick heaps of snow decorated the landscape of the little sanctuary in the valley, including a far-off estate at the edge of the dwelling.

Where a damned man screamed his lungs out. Centuries of pain evident in his bellows. His pale skin almost blended with the snow if it weren’t for the pitch-black tattoos decorating his rippling muscles- a reminder of the reason why he was banished to earth. His back flexed as he rose from his kneeling position. His much shorter servant, whose hair matched the exact shade of snow (save for the red stripe passing around their crown) presently on the ground, wrapped a thick robe around his shoulders.

“Master, you are a human being. They are fragile and get sick easily. Please, let us go inside.” 

The man wordlessly pushes off the robe from his brawny shoulders. Red eyes come in contact with the servant’s deadpanned ones. “Three hundred years. It has been three hundred years of looking for that hellish pearl. Where am I going to find it? I searched far and wide in all the lands and visited every brothel my pathetic human eyes could find, yet no one had the pearl. I have been driven to gouge out the eyes of every supposed beautiful woman. I am starting to believe that the deities are playing a cruel joke.” 

The servant simply picked up the snow-covered robe and folded it before the dampness could freeze it. “It is not a cruel joke, my Lord. They would not have given us the Scroll of Promise if it were so.” 

Promptly, the servant pulled out a tattered sheet of paper and read out what was written on it. Ancient scripture rolling off his tongue. “For the Demon’s return, he must fulfill the condition bestowed upon him by the Divine Council–bring upon the entirety of the cursed marble to the holiest temple in the land. The other half lies within one of the many mortal souls created by the deities.” 

“You do not need to repeat the words of those unforgiving scoundrels.”

“Do not speak ill of the Divine if you wish to return to your former glory.” 

The larger male stalked back into his estate sans robe. Probably to look for another brothel on the map. The search continues.

[robertreich]

Bezos and Musk Vs. Workers

Two of the world’s richest men want to end unions once and for all. 

Musk’s SpaceX and Bezos’ Amazon are both arguing in court that the National Labor Relations Board is unconstitutional on the grounds that it combines judicial and executive functions.

The NLRB is the agency that supervises union organizing and collective bargaining as established by the National Labor Relations Act of 1935 — a cornerstone of FDR’s New Deal that guarantees the right of workers to organize. It is, in effect, the referee of labor management relations.

If Bezos and Musk get their way, two of the richest people in the world will have gutted the enforcement of labor laws designed to protect the right of average workers to unionize. Corporations could fire employees who try to organize, without any repercussions. It could also be a death knell to unions that already exist.

Corporate giants Starbucks and Trader Joe’s have similarly advanced their own legal arguments echoing the same anti-union, anti-worker sentiment. So much for being “progressive” companies, huh?

Beyond their copycat legal arguments, what do all of these corporations have in common? A history of bashing unions and preventing workers from exercising their right to organize.

The NLRB has charged these companies with hundreds of violations of workers’ rights. They’ve fired pro-union workers, retaliated against organizers by cutting their hours, closed stores that tried to unionize, denied benefits being provided to non-union workers, and refused to bargain. And now Musk and Bezos are even going after the referees — the NLRB—  so unions and workers don’t stand a chance.

It’s not the first time their argument has been trotted out by robber barons. A similar case made its way to the Supreme Court way back in 1937. The opinion in that case upheld the NLRB and its decision to punish steel barons who fired workers who tried to organize a union.

Modern-day robber barons Bezos and Musk are hoping today’s Supreme Court will reverse its 1937 ruling and return America to a time before workers had a referee to ensure their rights.

Evidently, it’s not enough for Bezos and Musk to amass more wealth than any two people on the planet. No, they want even more wealth and covet even more power — and don’t want to share it with their workers.

You see, unions are one of the greatest champions of equality. And unions don’t just help unionized workers — they help all workers. There’s a ripple effect that occurs when workers organize: Non-union workers often receive the benefits of higher wages and safer working conditions fought for by organized labor. Unions also play a political role: They provide countervailing power to the overwhelming political power of giant corporations.

We will all suffer if unions are not there to have the backs of workers.

Now these cases may take a while to snake their way through the courts.

In the meantime, please share this video. These corporations win this fight only if the public doesn’t know what’s happening.

And support your local unions. When they go on strike, join a picket line. Better yet, join a union if you can.

We all need to voice our support for organized labor now more than ever.

[lumilumimi]

man the Problematic ParentsTM from pjsk are incredibly realistic in that two things are true about their depiction.

1. they have their own trauma, pain, and suffering, that influences the way they raise their children.

and

2. this does not detract from the suffering they then imposed on their children. it is not an excuse, and the MCs are not necessarily required by the narrative to forgive them (though they do seem to, which is understandable since they’re all high schoolers who care deeply about what their parents think of them).

like I think this extends to pretty much all the parents of pjsk. mafumom is probably the example most people automatically think of- she likely has some kind of (potentially very bad) generational trauma. this provides a basis for why she treats mafuyu the way she does. but it isn’t seen (so far) as an excuse- mafuyu running away is depicted as a necessary action in order to preserve herself.

ena’s dad went through incredible struggles as a starving artist. he likely felt extreme shame and anguish as he failed to provide for himself and his wife. but the way he handled this with ena is not necessarily depicted as a good or okay thing- just a thing that has an explanation.

toya’s dad- we don’t know a super lot about him afaik but it’s safe to assume he is a person who is very hard on himself. he strives for perfection in his music and tries to emulate exactly what he thought the composer intended. this behavior likely doesn’t come from nowhere, and has likely been harmful to him. but the way he treated and trained toya is still depicted as toxic and unnecessary.

and this even applies to less ProblematicTM parents like emu’s dad or an’s dad too! when it was revealed that ken had been hiding the truth about nagi from an, an literally was like “I don’t forgive you” and that’s SO POWERFUL! someone can have good intentions and still hurt you, and they still need to be held accountable for that! (and ken did accept responsibility for that- part of what makes him one of the best parents in the game!)

ugh. just… I’m in my twenties and still very much dealing with the repercussions and ripple effects of the way my parents Parented when I was a kid, and seeing the parents depicted very realistically in pjsk is so amazing. like yeah, they’re not cartoon villains being Evil Just Because, but do you have to do what they say? do you have to believe they know what’s best? hell, do you even have to forgive them? no. because regardless of their intentions, or their trauma, they still hurt you. and if they won’t take accountability and try to fix it, they aren’t magically exempt from the consequences of their own actions just by virtue of being a parent.

thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[qvrcll]

nsfw + exhibitionist

moments of reprieve with coriolanus snow are something intimate. stolen. he’s not thrilled with the idea of being found out, but he’s so enraptured with the scent, the company, the likes of you, that he really doesn’t think twice as hard when breaking the rules this once.

“hey, hey,” he breathes into your mouth, past your neck and the little patch of skin that catches his swill pant the moment you hurl him into a darkened corner of the academy. there’s not a lot of tight spaces to sneak around, so you’re always discriminating with your choices. but the price to pay is replete when you drink in the boy you love so much. still, he has his qualms about these secret endeavours, “we’ll get caught.”

“no we won’t, coryo,” you whine, already guessing the minute trice in time in which he concedes just a little, sighing in defeat when his body submits itself to you, unbidden. hopeless, even when he tries to quieten himself. when you drop your kisses to the little jut of bone against his neck, he’s swallowing hard around the ball hewing in his throat and making all sorts of noises, and his eyes crinkle towards a barely decent flutter and you figure, it’s not so bad… doing this so very discreetly, that is, “see? you’re making enough noises for the both of us.”

the comment had been in jest, but it sinks into the umbra of his mind, materialising as a mild panic as his body contorts further into the shadows that the old corner can offer, working more on containing his little noises. though not as loud, he doesn’t cease and fails to let up - and you’re grinning ear to ear when you’re palming a strict bulge forming in his pants with the flat of your palm. the air gets warmer, his breath a whim you seek to jeopardise.

“o-oh,” he quietly lets into your neck, desperately. pathetic really, when he curls his torso into the shear of your strokes to catch more pressure again his groin, his refrains rippling into some sick reprise of begging, “s… stop… please… don’t stop…”

and of course you’re giving but cruel, for you’re already catching his lips between your teeth, marring and breaking the skin softly, where the tinge of blood in your teeth is a repercussion. something small compared to how your hand floats beneath the band of his underwear, skulking against a thin accretion of pelvic hair and finding his dick pulsing hotly, wetly, in your disarranged grip.

but what do you care? a few tugs, and he’s convulsing against you. he’s almost clawing at you, lost to his own pleasures and forgetting what it was that had perturbed him so badly about the contingency of a release in a public domain, no longer a ghoul in the shadows but letting his whimpers swallow him proudly. too proudly, in fact, where you clamp a heavy hand across his mouth, feeling the warmness of his breath eventuate on the naked part of your palm.

“you need to be quiet, hm?” you all but whisper, pushing harder against the skin gathered down and tugging, where he follows aimlessly like a halfwit chasing for release. his resilience to the shadows is admirable, but his noises are prone to invite extrinsic company. no, too much, “be quiet, or i stop, coryo.”

his eyes will go wide, cobalt blue and coming apart within himself with your hands crammed into his dress-pants and bruising kisses that almost gnaw towards discomfort, but he simply weeps into your mouth and nods like it is a thing too great for him to think with his dick wet. instead, he lets your hands trail him to a choking release, as he cards the regret for a later opportunity, letting the blood rush towards a stranger place.

breaking one more rule should not hurt too much… right?

© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Helping Friends - Yuji

Kinktober Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, yuji is the cutest thing ugh

A/n: This was fun! Day 7: Stuck in wall. But I'm tired so I will be taking a break! Kinktober is hard phew! Excuse the horrible title its 11pm and I'm seeing double asasdf

Word count: 1.4k

Read on ao3

“I need your help.”

“Hm?” Yuji blinked. “Sure thing. What for?”

“Just … Just come over.”

“But ―”

“You’ll see when you get here,” You said through gritted teeth, and of course you were frustrated, but it almost seemed like you were struggling against something. 

“Okay, be over in a sec!”

You hung up. Yuji stared at the black square of his screen. Now, he was curious.

Yuji muffled a snicker.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not!”

“You are!” You wiggled your ass at him. “I can hear you! I’m stuck, I’m not deaf!”

Yuji sobered. It really wasn’t funny if you took a second to consider the repercussions of it all. “It’s lucky I have a key.”

You sighed. “D’you think you can get me out?”

Yuji saluted. “I’m on it!”

He maneuvered around you, careful to avoid your ass sticking out of the wall. He swallowed; of all the days to wear a skirt. He gripped your hips and pulled ―

“Ow, ow!” You wagged your legs. 

Yuji stopped immediately. “Sorry!”

You sighed. “God, I’m gonna be stuck here forever.”

“Don’t think like that!” Yuji said. “How’d this even happen?”

“Remember the hole in the wall I said I’d fix?” You said. “Well …”

Yuji brainstormed. “Maybe I need to loosen you up.”

“Well, obviously ―”

“No, I mean, with something …”

“I have some lube in the drawer of my nightstand?”

Yuji blushed, figured he better not ask, even though now his unhelpful images of you lubing up with your pretty pussy made his mouth water. 

“O ― Okay.”

He strode to your bedroom and fished into the drawer, finding the lube without issue. Kneeling on the floor of the wall, he spilled lube into a puddle in his palm before fixing it around the outline of your body. 

“Ugh,” You said. “This better work.”

He pulled, gently, using increasingly more powerful thrusts to exert you out of your self made hole. Still, you wouldn’t budge.

“Ah, damn, I can’t …” Yuji kept pulling, careful to not injure you, but continued to face resistance. “I’d end up taking this whole wall down.”

You whined. “What’s wrong now?”

Yuji reddened as he toyed with the elastic of your panties. “I think these need to come off,” he murmured.

He waited for your rage, for you to call him a pervert ― he’d deserve it anyway, he had to go and say it after all ― but instead you simply sighed.

“Do it.”

Yuji’s eyes widened. “What ―?”

“We have to get rid of as much friction as possible and I don’t wanna be stuck here forever!” You said. 

Yuji fought the urge to eye the way your panties hugged your cunt and failed. 

“But …”

“It’s okay, Yuji.”

With trembling hands, he hooked a finger under the elastic and pulled. They stuck on the fat of your thighs. Yuji bit into his cheek. Your cunt was right there. Perfect and plump and ― and did he detect a bit of wetness there, between the plush of your outer folds?

No, he was twilight-zoning. That’s all it was.

“What’s going back there?” Your voice took Yuji out of his reverie.

“N ― Nothing!” Yuji adjusted on his knees, desperate to avoid the raging erection making it hard to move much anywhere in any direction. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

Yuji hooked hands around your now-naked hips, tried a few jerky pulls. Your lower half budged if only by an inch.

“I think it’s working!”

“Good! Keep pulling!”

Yuji maneuvered behind you. Bad move. His gaze flickered to your perfect ass, and he could only imagine him in this position in a different context. His hips thrusting into you, your ass rippling with the power of his … Shit. Focus. Focus.

Yuji concentrated and tugged you toward one more time ―

Your lower half jerked, your ass colliding with his crotch.

“Ah!” 

Yuji drew in a sharp breath, kneeled over his hardon. “Sorry …” His voice was so weak.

“Is that … Is that you?”

Yuji froze. “Wha ― What do you mean?”

“I mean …” Your sock-covered foot brushed against his leg. “Is that you, that I feel?”

Yuji hung his head in shame. “Ye ― Yeah …” He tried for a laugh, but it came out as nervous as he was. “I’m really sorry, I just ―”

“Maybe …” You trailed, rubbing your thighs together. “ … we can make the most of this situation.”

Yuji braved a hand against your thigh, caressing the skin. “You mean …?”

“I think we should fuck while I’m like this,” You said. Yuji had tunnel vision for your pussy and it was almost like it was talking to him, egging him on. Daring him to … “I mean, my panties are already down, aren’t they? You’d just have to …”

Your voice waned, most likely because you could hear his zipper coming down.

“You’d really let me, (Y/n)?” Yuji said, already freeing his aching cock to stroke. “You’re okay with this after all?”

“Yeah.” You sounded so breathless.

Fuck.

Yuji aligned his cock with your sweet, puffy lips. His eyes fluttered closed; his head slid against and between your outer folds, lathering his head with your translucent juices. Already, you felt so good. 

“Mmm, Yuji …” His cock twitched to hear his voice on your tongue. “You feel good ― I bet you’re big.”

Yuji’s cheeks warmed as he eyed the way your folds rippled against his aching member. “I think so.”

You wagged your ass in his face. “Prove it.”

Fuuuck.

He slid into you with ease. His mind reeled as your walls hugged him, inch by inch.  He settled a hand on one of your ass cheeks. “Feel so good …” he breathed out. He fixed a hand at one of your slippery hips to bring himself inside fully, his pubic hairs brushing against the plump of your ass. 

“Ahhh …!” Your voice was heavenly. “Yuji ―!”

With one hand on your slippery hip and another on the crest of your crack, Yuji rocked into you. The wall hole wobbled and knocked in time with his thrusts. His breath lay trapped in his lungs at the tight hug of your cunt. 

“Yu ― Yuji …!” You stammered, voice choked by surprise as he quickened his pace. 

Yuji licked his lips. He hoped you were impressed with him. His eyes fell lidded as he slipped into a trance, single-minded and sidetracked by nothing but the feel of you around him. Yuji’s breath escaped at last in a gasp as you rocked back to fuck him, too. 

Yuji lurched forward, chest against your back as he sped up, hips spanking into your ass. His sloppy hand spurred forward, past the curve of your abdomen to fox out your clit.

“Mmmm!” You fucked onto him messily, but it was impossible for you to keep up with Yuji’s pace.

He bent down to kiss the little bit of exposed skin from your ridden-up tank top, unsure whether or not you even felt it, would even know he’d done it. What you would feel is his fingers flicking at your clit ― and he was rewarded with a louder moan coupled with your legs quivering underneath him, and it was better than any praise you could’ve given him.

“Fuck!” Yuji heard a tap on the other side that must’ve been you slapping a hand to the floor. “I’m ― I’m close!”

Yuji left an even softer kiss to your ass cheek and straightened up again to adjust his pace. He nearly doubled over again at the clench of your pussy and knew instinctively you weren’t the only one.

Yuji crashed hips into you as you cried out. He grunted, holding your trembling lower half steady as you came around him, a jolt of inspiration spurring him to press a thumb into your gaping asshole. 

“Yuji!” 

He whined, spilling into you at the sound of his name. You milked him while he mindlessly thumbed you, lost in what he’d always wanted to experience: being inside you.

He gave a few more thrusts, falling over you again from the frantic stimuli ―

The hole around the two of you gave. Yuji face-planted on your back as you yelped. In an instant, he shielded you, sure the rest of the wall would give in and bury the two of you. 

It didn’t.

Quiet.

“Well ― um …” Yuji slid out of you because it seemed the least he could do. “That worked!”

You faced the floor, your shoulders bouncing with mirth. “I can’t believe this.”

He joined you. The laughter didn’t stop as he helped you dress and shave the wall chippings clinging to your body. He was ready to offer you his jacket when you stopped him ―

“Yuji, I’m fine!” You assured him, stopping him. “Really!”

“Hmm.” He scanned you. “Okay.”

You giggled. “And thanks for coming ― stop,” You added as Yuji started laughing again. “Thanks for your help.”

Yuji grinned. “You can always count on me.”

[nalyra-dreaming]

What do you think about the choice to change the circumstances around Claudia's turning from the book? Lestat doing it almost just to see what would happen/baby trapping Louis vs Lestat doing it because Louis, out of his mind from grief, begged him to.

Hmm.

Difficult :) I have to expand a bit here, to explain my thoughts:

The show... made some very welcome choices, they made Louis "more", they made it all "more" in a way, they updated the story, and I'm glad they did.

But by doing that they created, let's call it repercussions.

Because... every little change has ripple effects on arcs, and there are arcs in the books. Arcs that span all thirteen books of the VC.

The Lestat in the book is very young still. Only like 10 years a vampire. 30 years in mortal age. He has had a shit life, has been raped into darkness, impossible choices laid at his feet (letting his mother die and his lover behind, both of which he could not), got beef (to put it mildly) with Armand almost immediately because he unknowingly broke the rules that Armand lived by, and then traveled the world, increasingly disillusioned, until Marius found him. And sent him to live out a human life after the little fiasco with Akasha, because Lestat was so young still.

A lot of the events unfolding hinges on the fact that Lestat is still very young. And almost naïve. Rash. Very impulsive. He wants to see what happens. He is hungry for the world (again). And he is very close in powers to Louis.

He falls head over heels in love with Louis, fatally, and wants to keep that love, because of all the shit that already has happened, in such a short amount of time.

The Lestat in the show is not that.

He is ~130 years old when he encounters Louis. A lot more jaded, a lot more... angry. A lot more powerful, too. We know he returned to Paris, and I think the show has already given us the hints as to the "why" with the dates on Nicolas' tomb as well as the Talamasca files.

We know he encountered Akasha (and therefore Enkil and Marius) as well. We know Marius still slapped him with a gag order. Likely also threatened him, like in the book. But we don't know why Marius had sent this older Lestat away (or why Lestat may have left, which is also a possibility, given the backstory Armand told). The Lestat who had not only been turned at a later point in life, but also had likely encountered Marius and Those Who Must Be Kept at a point where he had already lived "a mortal life".

This Lestat knows a thing or two about covens, and the passage of time, better than the book Lestat does. He addresses the loneliness in the opera, with Louis, they address it at the trial. He knows that loneliness. This Lestat has had, by returning to Paris, to deal with Armand, repeatedly. He and Armand have not found a way to consume their relationship, for reasons that will likely stay the same as in the book but which weigh much more heavily, imho, if broken up again and again, over the decades (by Lestat returning). Something likely also happened to make the theater relocate.

This Lestat likely knows the rules a lot better. Knows what Armand can do, and does, too.

This Lestat knows that there's only a few dozen of them out there and what that means for them in terms of loneliness and pain much better, too.

This Lestat knows what it means for Claudia if he turns her this young. Maybe he's seen it. Maybe not. But he has experience. A LOT more experience living this existence.

There were hints that he understands, very well, like the not-translated rant at the chess game. Like the resistance to Claudia being turned, even in Louis' first version. Like the opera. A lot of discussions and comments to Louis.

And there were hints that there were things that made him afraid. And that he really, really did not want them to go to Paris.

Which must have had reasons, obviously.

There were hints already in the show and interviews, that Armand might have more to do with Nicolas' death than... even in the book (where he starves him, drives him even more mad, and chops of Nicolas' hands!!).

This Lestat must have known about Armand's reasoning there, the reasoning we hear some of as well when Armand is threatening to burn Louis in the tunnels in s2. Because he must have heard them, or heard of them, after Nicolas.

All this combined....

All this combined made it quite logical for me that this Lestat... would not have the drive to "see what happens". He has likely seen what happens. Maybe not first hand, but he has seen enough.

He also knows the rules others live by, and knows what would happen if she would encounter certain other vampires.

This Lestat could only be forced emotionally, despite his better judgement - because he already had that better judgment.

This is the "Lestat side of things". :)

The "Louis side of things" has similar changes to consider which carry repercussions.

This Louis is a bit older, too. He is also harder, or can be harder, has a "business persona" that he carries like a shield.

He is under constant pressure, a lot more and way more stifling pressure than his book counterpart. This Louis wears a lot of hats (as Jacob put it), never really fitting in anywhere.

And Lestat, obviously aided by the mind gift :)) - sees him.

Challenges him on that.

For Louis this being seen must have felt cataclysmic. And it was, it came with life-changing events, of course, but the decision to accept those events was born from this being seen, this awareness of the entirety of his being, the good, the bad, the ugly.

It came with the promise to free Louis from the shackles of the world around him.

And of course that promise... had to fail.

And it made Louis suffer.

Of course.

The disappointment stemming from that simple fact, the disillusionment of that promised freedom being an illusion ... must have been like poison, on every breath.

I would like to point out that it was not a deliberately "fake promise", imho. The Dark Gift did free Gabrielle, she quite literally threw off the shackles of society, I bet we'll see that in s3. But it could not do the same for Louis, and it must have hurt them both.

That breaking, broken promise then tainted everything, whether they wanted it to, or not.

Louis' moral arguments re killing were never that in the book, and I don't think they're here as well. Louis' efforts to control his eating are means to regain control over a life that has spiraled out of control, because he cannot return.

When the Storyville arc unfolds, Louis is watching the repercussions of his actions. He has been rash, he has been arrogant, and he has reveled in it, for a moment. And now others suffer for it.

Letting himself go in the "vampiric way" has resulted in a lot of suffering.

That is the lesson that sticks.

His mother sees the devil, he has frightened his sister and her children. Deep down Louis knows that there is no way back, that he is other. Deep down he knows he will only find happiness with his own kind.

And he rejects that notion, of course, because the promise has broken.

He leaves Lestat, because ultimately Lestat is the reason he killed the Alderman. Because Louis cannot help but reject the vampiric aspects of himself at that point.

But Louis loves Lestat.

And he knows it, too.

And so he is stuck in that catch-22, in that predicament, needing to find a way out, aware there is none, unable to truly leave, and wanting to return.

And Claudia... Claudia is the answer.

Claudia is the band aid for the rift. Claudia is the reason to return. Claudia sees him as an angel. Claudia is the bargaining chip.

It's never about her. Unfortunately.

Claudia, the daughter of a family he cannot have (had) otherwise.

Because Louis knows, that even in a mortal life, he would not have had children, in all likelihood.

Because Louis is gay. Oh, he has of course the possibility, if he bends himself into shape. But when we meet him it is clear he only keeps the facade. By entering a relationship with Lestat, no matter the vampiric aspect, he dismissed that possibility, too.

And that, too, gnaws at him.

Louis, in the show, has to ask Lestat to turn her, because Lestat knows better.

And Louis needs to ask, because it is the only way he can consolidate all the warring pieces within himself, his self, his world, his state of being, his morals, his hopes - for a while at least.

[amuseoffyre]

With Black Sails being back in streaming in some areas, I'm imagining how much it would infuriate the current slew of people who are convinced that watching morally gray/bad characters makes you as a viewer a morally gray/bad person.

Our leading man straight up beats someone to death with a cannon ball in the first couple of episodes and kills many many many people while acting out of grief, loss, remorse and rage. Also, he is baby and cries in his cabin.

One of our leading lady abandons and double-crosses her lovers (both male and female) out of her desire to do what she believes is the right thing to keep their world alive and running, trading, bartering and fighting every step of the way.

And the best part is that none of these characters start out this way. We have so many idealists. The hopeful ones who want the better world, but the better world isn't something 'civilisation' will allow them to have and the carnage comes when they try and change things. It's a scream against the injustices of the world that pushes people to desperate measures to hold onto and protect what little they have.

This is how they survive. They paint the world full of shadows and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons. Their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. We can prove that it isn't true. In the dark there is discovery. There is possibility. There is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it.

Everyone else is ruthless, survivalist, determined to do whatever they have to in order to get what they want/need. People make horrible decisions out of desperation and because there's literally no other choice. And there are consequences. Each action causes ripples in the canon pool. No decision, no matter how reckless/hopeless/desperately made, comes without repercussions.

Unlike so many series, what happens in the episodes before directly impacts how the events that follow play out. Action and reaction. It's a narrative that begins long before we join the story and, when we leave it, it's a narrative that will continue long afterwards. It's a bloody, chaotic, glorious and devastating would-be revolution.

In case I hadn't mentioned it, I adore this show with every fibre of my being. It is packed with so many layers and so much nuance and history and phenomenal character arcs.

[urdnotstxrm]

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen & Reader

AU: The Targaryen family dynamics are a blend of political intrigue and personal emotions. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the strong-willed and fiery daughter of King Viserys, is caught in a dilemma. Her father has decreed that for her to secure the Iron Throne, she must marry your brother, a match designed to solidify alliances and secure her claim. Despite this, Rhaenyra's heart belongs to you.

Continuation from here

In the guest chamber provided by your family, Rhaenyra paces restlessly. The room, though opulent, feels like a gilded cage. She can still feel the warmth of your embrace, the comfort of your presence, and it contrasts sharply with the cold reality of her situation. Her father’s decree rings in her ears, a constant reminder of the price she must pay for the throne.Rhaenyra sits by the fireplace, staring into the flames, her thoughts consumed by you. She grapples with the unfairness of it all—the love she feels for you versus the duty imposed upon her. She contemplates her options, the rebellious spark within her urging her to defy her father, to claim her own destiny. But the repercussions of such defiance weigh heavily on her mind. She fears the chaos and bloodshed that might ensue if she were to follow her heart. She thinks of you, your noble sacrifice, and it fills her with both admiration and sorrow. She knows the burden you carry, the conflict between your honor and your love for her. She wonders if there is a way to change her father’s mind, to make him see that her happiness lies not in a strategic marriage but in a union of love. As the days pass, Rhaenyra’s resolve hardens. She is a dragon, after all, and dragons are not meant to be caged. She vows to find a way to be with you, no matter the cost. For now, she clings to the hope that love will prevail, even in the face of insurmountable odds.

In the solitude of your chamber, the nights seem longer and the days, more burdensome. You sit by the window, staring out at the moonlit landscape, replaying every moment with Rhaenyra in the stables. Her words, her touch, her desperation—they haunt you. The weight of your responsibilities presses down heavily. You recall your decision to yield your right to leadership, a choice made out of duty and honor, and now it feels like a chain binding you, preventing you from following your heart. You think of your younger brother, his strengths, and the trust you placed in him. You hope he can understand the depth of your sacrifice, even if he never learns the true reason behind it. Your mind drifts to Rhaenyra’s plea, her tear-filled eyes begging for a future you cannot promise. You wonder if there could ever be a way to reconcile duty with desire, a way to find happiness without shattering the delicate balance of your world. The sound of the festivities from the great hall below echoes faintly in your chamber, a reminder of the life you are expected to lead. But your heart remains in the stables, with Rhaenyra, in that fleeting moment of shared love and sorrow.

The night was quiet and cool, the moon casting a soft, silvery light over the landscape. Unable to sleep, you stared out of your window, thoughts of Rhaenyra filling your mind. Suddenly, you noticed a solitary figure slipping out of the house and making their way towards the river. It was Rhaenyra. Curiosity and concern took hold of you, and you quickly decided to follow her at a safe distance. You moved silently, making sure not to alert her of your presence. Rhaenyra walked with purpose, her cloak billowing slightly in the gentle breeze. She reached the riverbank and paused, glancing around to ensure she was alone. Satisfied, she stepped into the water, the moonlight reflecting off the rippling surface. You remained hidden, watching her from the shadows. She waded deeper into the lake, the water lapping around her, a serene look on her face as she sought solace in the cool embrace of the water. Your heart ached with longing, knowing she was so close yet unreachable.

As you watched from the shadows, the night air seemed to grow thicker, more charged. The sight of Rhaenyra's clothes being shed before she stepped into the lake played over and over in your mind, each piece of fabric falling away revealing her form. Your heart pounded harder, the quiet stillness of the night doing nothing to quiet the thoughts invading your mind. You tried to focus on her safety, on the purity of your concern for her well-being, but it was impossible to ignore the stirring of desire within you. The moonlight accentuated her every movement, casting a soft glow on her bare skin as she moved through the water. You imagined the feel of that skin, smooth and warm under your fingertips, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. The ache of longing mixed with a deeper, more primal desire. You found yourself gripping the edge of the tree you were hiding behind, trying to ground yourself, but your mind was filled with images of her—her body, her touch, her breathless whispers in the dark.

As you watched Rhaenyra in the moonlit water, your thoughts shifted from longing to a burning sense of injustice. The idea of your brother, destined to have her, filled you with a rage that was difficult to contain. He would be the one to hold her, to be by her side, to share her life in ways you could only dream of. The thought of him touching her, loving her, and claiming her as his own made your blood boil. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you struggled to maintain your composure. It felt profoundly unfair that duty and circumstance had placed your brother in a position to be with the woman you loved. Every fiber of your being rebelled against the idea, and the jealousy and anger gnawed at your resolve. Rhaenyra, oblivious to your inner turmoil, continued to move gracefully in the water, a picture of serenity that only intensified your anguish. You wanted to be the one beside her, to be the one she turned to, the one she loved openly and freely. The knowledge that you could not change your fate or hers filled you with a helpless fury.

As you watched Rhaenyra, the vision of her in the moonlit water became too much to bear. Despite your efforts to stay composed, your body betrayed you. You felt the growing hardness in your trousers, a physical manifestation of the desire that had been gnawing at you. You glanced around once more to ensure you were alone, and your hand drifted down almost of its own accord, coming to rest on your erection. The sensation was immediate and intense, and you rubbed slowly, your mind flooded with sinful thoughts of what it would be like to touch her, to feel her skin against yours. Every movement of her body in the water fueled your fantasies. You imagined her turning towards you, inviting you to join her, her lips whispering your name with desire. The thought of her hands on you, her body pressed against yours, drove you to rub yourself harder, the pleasure and the torment of it mingling in an almost unbearable way.

Each stroke brought you closer to the edge, and you had to bite your lip to stifle a groan. The need for her was overwhelming, a burning ache that seemed to consume every part of you. You knew it was wrong, that your thoughts were a betrayal of your duty and your honor, but in that moment, all you could think about was Rhaenyra and the forbidden desire that she ignited within you. Your hand moved faster, driven by the images in your mind, the sight of her bare skin, the imagined feel of her under your touch. The tension built and built, your breathing growing ragged as you approached the brink. Finally, with a stifled gasp, you reached your climax, your body shuddering with the release. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you were left with a profound sense of guilt and longing. The night air felt colder against your skin, and the reality of your situation came crashing back. Rhaenyra was still there, just out of reach, and you were once again left with nothing but your unfulfilled desire and the painful knowledge that she could never truly be yours.