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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it. You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

“I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment. You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere ayato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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r0ugesun · 4 months ago

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Hello! I have a little request for writing: Aemond's gotten into am arranged marriage for politics, for the Dance of the Dragon's War. I'd love to read his reaction when his bethrothed arrives in a carriage to King's Landing and when she descends and is introduced to him he finds out she is chubby or curvy, at least curvier than most of ladies of court.

I hope you get inspired from my request or from other and I get to read a lot from you. Go writers!!!

YEAHH BUDDYY !! During the medieval period more ample figures were seen as a symbol of prosperity and health, fertility and femininity :)) so I have no doubt he would be drooling over a chubby reader!

I made it short and sweet hope that’s okay! ^-^

Aemond Targaryen x chubby!Reader

“She’s late” aemond thought annoyed, it was one thing for his mother to betroth him to house (surname) behind his back, it was another to make him greet you personally, he needed to be planning strategies, training, not dallying with some women that would surely be less than thrilled to be bound to the one eyed prince.

He stood rigidly at the gates of the Red Keep, his single eye scanning the horizon with impatience. He let out a frustrated sigh, the arranged marriage was a political necessity, a means to an end the union designed to solidify alliances in the brewing storm of civil war. He had steeled himself for this encounter, determined to approach it with his usual cold detachment of duty.

The clatter of hooves and the rumble of wheels on the cobblestone announced the arrival of Lady y/n’s carriage. The procession came to a halt, and the door of the vehicle swung open. Aemond narrowed his eye, his gaze fixed on the opening.

A delicate ornate foot appeared first, followed by the hem of a beautifully embroidered gown. You descended gracefully, and as you came into view fully, Aemond’s breath caught in his throat. You were….voluptuous, your form fuller than he had expected, there was an undeniable elegance and beauty to you.

Your eyes met his shyly, and you smiled, a soft and inviting expression that made Aemond's heart skip a beat. You stepped forward, and the formal introductions were made, but Aemond scarcely heard them. His eye roamed your face, taking in the curves of your cheeks, the fullness of your lips, and the warmth in your eyes.

He found himself entranced, not just of your beauty, but of the poise with which you carried yourself. There was a sparkle in your eye that intrigued him.

As you curtsied before him, Aemond took your hand, soft and round, a stark contrast to his calloused and lithe hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed it gently, holding it there a little longer than necessary. "My lady," he said, his voice softer than he intended.

“Welcome to kings landing”

You smiled, you looked up at him through your long lashes with a mix of shyness and curiosity.

“Thank you my prince, it’s an honor to be here”

Aemond nodded, his mind racing with thoughts of what this marriage could mean, not just for the war to come, but for himself. A great beauty such as yourself deserved to be ravished every night, he thought, and he couldn’t wait to see the full extent of your curves on your wedding night.

#my writing #aemond targaryen #aemond oneshot #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #aemond #aemond the kinslayer #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye

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therandompagesblog · 11 days ago

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SKZ Pack Chapter 2

Trigger warnings: angst

Being mated to a head alpha was something special. It was symbolic in the way that you became one. Not one with him, but also one with the pack. It meant you had earned your right as their omega, as their mate. The mark was as important as having intercourse with that person. The mark symbolised their love and care for you, along with ownership. The power of that werewolf becomes transcribed into your veins, re-writing your whole DNA. It was powerful, but the act of mating was even more powerful. It was the combining of two souls into one. It was the union of bringing two people together. The traditional way was the head alpha would present himself to you and offer you into his nest that was newly decorated. The head alpha would ask for your approval and ask you to scent in the room, to make yourself as comfortable as possible. The head alpha would then lie you on the bed preparing you in a way he fitted before he did the act. While he mated you, the head alpha would mark you in a way that called to them before releasing their seed, locking your souls together. Once the bond was sealed the head alpha would allow the other wolves to become actively involved with you and may too mate with you when they are ready. That's what the elders taught you in werewolf school anyway, but for Y/N it was a little bit different back then. Not by much but she did mate with her old head alpha first. This was the reason Y/N started to get more emotional. Y/N felt more anxious, more detached, she even felt lost to a certain extent. Lost in the pack. It didn't help that Jisung marked her the other day.

Jisung's second accident posed a slight problem that day. It started off as a sweet day with him and Y/N spent the day together, binge-watching a series together. As you do, you move onto each other, and then a kiss happens. A kiss that got quite heated. Jisung was feeling needy but knew he had to tread carefully because of his last mistake but he had this need to please his omega so he did. Jisung had started off with his hands in her joggers teasing her but he still couldn't quite get the hang of it because he could smell the other members around. In the end, Y/N agreed to let him grind on her if he kept his boxers on which helped massively for Jisung as he got her to cum and made himself cum, but he ended up biting her during his release which scared the crap out of him and an angry Felix scolding him. Much to Y/N's surprise Chan was completely fine about it or that's what he said anyway, but Y/N felt there was much more to it. He too was getting agitated that she was unclaimed and he was willing to risk Jeongin to do it correctly.

As the days went on Y/N was starting to get more emotional and Chan could feel it. She came to his room and spent less time each day, especially when he mentioned Jeongin. She did want Jeongin but she wanted her head alpha first, she craved him badly but his leg wasn't healing and it had gotten infected that Jaehee had to give him some strong antibiotics and once they settled she would have to re-break his leg so it would heal correctly, which to Jisung's amusement was hilarious at the thought of his alpha having his leg broken. Jisung was scolded by Chan with a snarky comment that he could re-break his leg for biting Y/N. As much as Y/N wanted to laugh she couldn't. Everything in the house was so unsettled for various reasons and she didn't like it so she asked Jeongin to call a meeting after everyone was finished with their duties.

Jeongin would lead the meeting as he was nominated to take over Chan with Minho until he was better. It annoyed Y/N that Hyunjin was being pushed out but he assured her several times he did not mind and he knew Chan needed time as they all did, which was why they needed to clear the air once and for all. They needed to put this right and allow everyone to have their own chance to voice their opinion regardless of the others. "Right, so, um. I wanted to talk to you all because, Y/N is right, there is a lot of tension and upset in the room that we are not addressing and I wanted to talk about it because Chan is upstairs in pain and needs to focus on healing but he can't if he knows where all pissed off at each other." Jeongin stared as he stood in the middle of the living room awkwardly. It was new to him to take the lead. "What I did want to state is despite how we feel about that night. Hyunjin, Y/N and Seungmin risked their lives. They could have died and if they did it would be a different conversation and we all would have had massive regrets about our actions so we need to draw the line today. Things are going to be different because we have an omega now, our mate who we have to love and care for. Things are different even for her, let's remember how she didn't even know how to make a nest, that was hard for her, let alone for her to trust us, but we were patient. Think about the first day, we didn't know she existed. We didn't know she was going to arrive and it was hard but we got through it, like we did when we took Hyunjin in. We got through it and we will get through it again." Jeongin stated.

The wolves nodded, listening to Jeongin's words. It was all different for them. They were used to being eight and not having to worry about having an omega. They were used to going about their day until everything shifted far too quickly. "Can I say something?" Felix asked, nervously, breaking the thick silence. "I want you all to say something anyway so go ahead," Seungmin stated. "I am grateful to you guys, honestly, I am and I am sorry I was a coward that day. I don't have it in me. It felt sick for what I did to San. I can't do it again." Felix said honestly as he looked at them, giving Y/N an apologetic smile as Changbin held her hand. "No one's blaming you. It is alright." Hyunjin whispered. "Thank you. What I do want is for everyone to be fine. I know it won't happen overnight but I want us to make more of an effort." Felix added. "Alright, I'll speak. I want everyone to get along, that is all. Hyunjin is still our alpha regardless and we know now that he had his reasons. He is our friend, our brother and our alpha so let's all work on that." Changbin stated which Hyunjin appreciated. "Nothing else?" Jeongin asked. "Unless I'm a terrible mate? No." Changbin added.

Seungmin was next and stressed his lack of communication skills within the pack was causing problems. He admitted the secrecy with Minho and Jeongin was unfair and it left problems for Y/N and Hyunjin who felt they had to do something. Jeongin and Minho accepted that answer and promised to be more communicative. Jisung apologised for his defiance and messing up every so often but admitted his insecurity of feeling abandoned and rejected, which was why he thinks he felt the need to mark Y/N. Y/N felt sad heading Jisung's story and knew there was more to it but said nothing as she knew it wasn't the time. Hyunjin too spoke and apologised for his cowardness and will repent for his actions, but reminded his wolves he was their alpha and that wasn't found to change. "Hyung?" Felix nudged Minho who was staring at the floor. "Yeah. Um. I want everyone to be happier." Minho whispered. "Hyung, come on. Everyone else has said their issues." Seungmin said. It was unfair if he didn't speak. "What? What do you want me to say? I don't have problems with any of you. The rest is between me and Y/N which is being resolved." Minho growled, but the truth was Minho didn't like confrontation. He actually wanted to speak to Y/N privately and resolve it away from interference. "A thank you would have been nice. I almost got fried by some weird ass fog." Seungmin growled as he wanted some form of gratitude from the stubborn elder. "Thank you for stupidly following an OMEGA to your death. Ya, if she told you to sacrifice yourself would you?" Minho chided. His words made Y/N feel stupid and low but she had to accept it, this was meant to be uncomfortable for all of them. "Maybe. Depends on what it was for, but in all honesty, she was the one who was prepared to die. Think about that." Seungmin growled. "Yeah, and we're left to pick up the pieces," Minho grumbled, but in truth, Minho felt guilty when he found the note. He hadn't expected them to leave and tackle it alone. Minho was the one who panicked the most where as Jeongin was the one who was angry at the time.

"Why don't we let Y/Nssi speak? She's allowed to say how she feels about us too." Felix added, but Y/N waved them off. She didn't know what to say at this point but hoped they could move on, but still, Jeongin wanted her to. Jeongin crouched down in front of her as he took her hand in his, trying to urge but she dismissed him. "Ignore Minho hyung. Why don't you tell us how you feel about us? Please, it would help us." Jeongin pleaded. "I promise everything is fine with me. I want everyone to be happy and to get along. I want you to stop blaming each other and be yourselves." Y/N explained but Jeongin shook his head, she was avoiding a particular topic. She wasn't stating how she felt about them. "What about us? Do you feel happy with us? Content? Satisfied?" Jeongin asked. "I think so," Y/N whispered as she looked up at the creme ceiling. She didn't want to think about this. She didn't want to disappoint them and say she felt lost with them. She didn't want to say she felt useless. She didn't want to say she felt rejected. "Baby, don't cry. Tell us." Jeongin urged, wiping her tears that she didn't know had fallen down. "I feel lost. I think after everything that happened with Ateez I felt lost when they left, like I don't know who I am. I feel like I don't belong here or I'm being rejected I don't know why. I want to be loved but I don't know how." Y/N admitted. "Take all the time that you need. None of us is ever going to pressure you into anything. We will go at any pace you set for us." Changbin promised. "I agree but I want you to think about what Chan said, but I also want you to know. I will never force you to ever do it with me. Ever."

Taglist for the iconic readers

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 o @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627 @tsunderelino @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @hyunmikim @emi-han @iknow-uknow-leeknow @jigglypuff3000 @aalexyuuuhm @reallychaoticwoo @missseoulite @ihrtlix @estella-novella @xxeiraxx

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the-cat-at-the-theatre-door · 2 years ago

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And you know what I talked about this in the tags, but the thing is -

At the most basic level of interpretation, the Jellicle Choice is a metaphorical symbol of forgiveness. It may not begin that way, at least not in the way it’s initially framed, but as the narrative evolves, as do the narrative devices.

It’s not “who deserves to rest or ‘win’ more”, because at the end of the day, the fact of the matter is that both Grizabella and Gus the Theatre Cat are base rooted firmly in their memories of a better time yesteryear, and both suffer from “age related” (though the revival...gets a side eye from me) disability and deterioration. Both are described as “shabby and thin” and “torn and stained with sand”. Both are spoken to have been better in the prime of their lives. Palsy is a general term that refers to a whole plethora of muscle and nerve deterioration (often involving the brain - considering Gus is elderly, it may very well likely be PSP - though again with cats it’s hard to put a pin on that ).

Until the revival, Gus was presented as no more able bodied or healthy (and of course this varied in severity from performer to performer) than Grizabella was (Gr*wltiger and co. was a flashback, not occurring in the present). He was better cared for because he remained in society vs. occupying the space of the outcast in the narrative, but that doesn’t make the former fact go away. These are crucial points that can and should co-exist with themselves; it’s not who was sicker or closer to death - disability and age related deterioration exist on multiple levels, and no one is in a better camp than the other in that regard. Hell, if you want to take original revival cast interpretation into account, Gus ends up dying that night as well. It’s not about putting them in competition with one another of who is going to take the long nap first, or deserves to go to Cat Heaven more because one is somehow "closer" than the other - it’s a metaphor for how society and community can simultaneously hurt as much as it heals.

Because the choice exists in the allegory of forgiveness, it is reasonable to then assume that the one chosen must have done something that *requires* forgiveness. Gus...did nothing wrong as far as we know as an audience (interpretation notwithstanding - let’s look strictly at text here - even when Jellylorum implies that he was off drinking with his friends and perhaps frequents those circles more often than he should, it’s not framed as wrong doing). Eliminating the revival, unlike nearly the entirety of the rest of the cast, he wasn’t even *involved* in the shunning of Grizabella. Even Asparagus (if you believe him to be the same cat), is barely (if ever, depending on the staging) involved in the shunning of Grizabella due to the unavailability of the performer. Gus is brought on, with often very little idea of where he is or who is around him, and then he leaves. He does not leave any lasting impression in the community until he is *possibly* (again, depends how you read the chorus costume debacle) brought on stage at the end of the show again in time for Grizabella’s final “Memory”.

While the community at large learns the lesson that they were at fault for unfairly ostracizing one of their own, giving up any potential chance at being chosen as a further symbol of them needing to earn their own level of narrative forgiveness, Gus doesn’t need to learn that lesson. We have no idea from what is presented to us in text (again, revival not withstanding) whether Gus was ever even involved in this. He doesn’t *need* to be forgiven to achieve acceptance in society, there is nothing to forgive him *for*. Therefore, he doesn’t *require* the Choice, and he doesn’t require a do-over.

That’s also why it’s important that Grizabella is not boiled down to “being unfairly judged for having done absolutely nothing wrong” - there are very *few* real innocents in this cast of characters. Grizabella is not one of them, nor should she be treated as one of them. She deserves to be forgiven because she has recognized her mistakes and is seeking to atone for them - not because she didn't do anything. The difference between Gus and Grizabella is not who deserves the honour more - it’s who does and does not require forgiveness for their lives to come to a satisfying conclusion. Gus’ life is already over - the conclusion has long come and gone it’s just a matter of closing the curtain, so to speak. Grizabella is *just reaching* her conclusion - there’s still time before the sun rises on her and it’s too late.

Semi negative below the cut -

Keep reading

#symbolism #i've been talking about this for years - i will continue to talk about this #do i sound like a broken record? probably #i went to school for bullshit so bullshit you are going to get #extemporize back chat #the jellicle choice is - to alw's theological roots - exactly what it sounds like #like as much as i don't want to put any stock in that it's there #the thing is too like while i do not like this interpretation this idea that gus is beloved by the tribe is also a semi new thing #he may be *respected* but plenty of performers act as though gus going on and on with himself is a waste of their time #even *jelly* is often played as the fully put upon nurse #it's symbolic of how the elderly are often *tolerated* in their existence in western society #though further still if he is just a cat who lives in a theatre chances are he’s not getting expensive vet bills taken care of in the 30s o #the 80s #if the cat starts shaking that's a oh well he was a good cat - it's not an if it's a when #regardless of who gets chosen the fact is gus and grizabella are in a state of dying #grizabella is just coming at the tail end of having realized in death that she wishes to atone #anyway i'm just going to hold the elder cats in my arms #because every time it comes up it's like *yes* i get the point and interpretation and agree to an extent but you need to think #in narrative structures and the limitations of bubbled story telling #but also you don't have to put one cat down to elevate the other #also since i've heard this before *no* i don't think grizabella is the same age as gus #age related disability can hit as early as the 50s or 60s - what i want to know is that why when i say #grizabella is meant to be an older woman some people's minds *immediately* jump to 80s or so #like that says something a little skewed about how you view aging women doesn't it?

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hydrangeapartridge · 7 days ago

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Manfred learns about rings (EmmRook post game short fic)

I have so many ideas for domestic post game EmmRook... Here's another one featuring their favourite skeleton son. This is pure tooth-rotting fluff (with mild spoilers for the end of the game of course but still spoilers)

Enjoy! (Update: part 2 can be found here)

Fire cracking in the hearth, a warm cup of herbal tea and a good book; Rook loved those peaceful and cosy evenings. While she was lying on the living room’s plush meridian, Emmrich and Manfred were discussing magical artefacts near the fireplace. Manfred was sitting crosslegged on the carpet, listening with undivided attention to his teacher’s lessons. The subject of the night seemed to be the use of enchanted rings to enhance one’s magic. Comfortably sitting on an armchair, Emmrich took his time taking off his rings one by one, explaining which enchantement they bore and their purpose before placing them neatly on the coffee table when he was done.

Manfred’s shiny eyes reviewed the display of jewels intently, with his signature curiosity. Carefully, he pointed to each of them in order, and repeated what he learned. Emmrich nodded along, gently correcting his apprentice’s few mistakes or sharing more details.

Rook couldn’t help but be distracted by the scene. Manfred made so much progress in so little time, making her, and mostly Emmrich, both ecstatic and proud. During the last Blight, she had no opportunity to witness the extent of Emmrich’s love for learning and mostly his love for teaching. It was an area in which all his generosity, patience and intelligence shone through. Being knowledgeable didn’t necessarily imply being pedagogical, but Emmrich excelled in it, and thrived in discussing and challenging his own wisdom.

There was one ring left on Emmrich’s left ring finger. Manfred noticed and asked about it.

“Ah” A small private smile graced Emmrich’s thin lips as he gazed down to the simple but finely chiselled golden band. “This one like you noticed holds no enchantment” He said.

Manfred was present at their wedding of course, but Rook wasn’t sure how much he grasped the meaning of such an event. For all his practical knowledge, Manfred, as a spirit, had a different take on emotions; one that Rook and Emmrich didn’t always understand.

“What for?” Manfred asked and Rook waited on Emmrich’s answer with renewed interest.

“Well, it is a symbol. A reminder of the bond between Rook and I, and the promise we made each other to be together” He gulped before he added “Until death does us appart”

“Until forever” Rook corrected him with a gentle smile.

Emmrich quickly turned to her, surprised to find she had been listening. He shook his head but a relaxed smile graced his features. “Right. Forever. In this world and beyond”

Manfred tilted his head, and Rook could almost see the gears turning in his skull.

Emmrich started putting his rings back on, leaving the lessons of the evening to sink in for now.

Rook took a sip of her lukewarm tea and was about to go back to her book when Manfred asked: “Can I have one? Ring?”

Emmrich stopped mid gesture and blinked in surprise, but he was quick to regain his composure and welcomed the question. “Well, I am happy to see you’re interested in them Manfred. I would offer you one but apprentices in training aren’t authorised to use them. No exceptions. I wouldn’t want the other teachers to think I play favourites.”

Rook snorted a little at that. It was a nice sentiment, and she admired Emmrich’s will to be just and fair. But in other instances, she knew he did play favourites without even being aware of it. How could he not? His relationship with Manfred was most special.

“Not those. The other one” Manfred said, poiting to Emmrich’s ring finger.

Rook perked up from her book. What an unexpected twist. Even after all this time, Manfred always managed to surprise them every day.

“Oh” Emmrich half breathed half chuckled. “Oh” He repeated, visibly taken aback. He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair before he set on asking: “And why would you want one?”

Smart move to choose not to assume what meaning Manfred puts behind that ring. Rook waited intently for the answer. Manfred couldn’t possibly want to marry someone; and her poor husband was most definitely not ready for that either.

“To be with you. Forever?” Manfred asked, visibly unsure of what the last part meant.

Rook’s heart positively melted in her chest. She looked to Emmrich, who had brought his gloved hand in front of his mouth, eyes wide and shiny with both joy and disbelief. Neither of them trusted themselves to talk for now.

Manfred rocked on his back bones, self conscious. “I can’t? Bad?” He asked lowly.

Emmrich leaped out of the armchair and knelt before the curiosity spirit. He took both Manfred’s bony hands in his. “Of course you can Manfred! Of course you can” He reassured him, eyes teary and voice shaky with emotion. “That would be wonderful! We’ll get you one of your choosing”

“Yeay!” Manfred beamed.

Emmrich sat back onto his heels “But to be clear, you must understand that if the meaning of matching rings is that we share a bond, the one we share isn’t the exact same one I share with Rook?” He felt the need to clarify, once his initial shock had passed.

“I know” Manfred immediately replied, like it was obvious to him.

“Good” Emmrich clasped his hands together, considering the matter settled. “The anniversary of your return from the fade grows near. We’ll get the two matching rings then. It would make for a most perfect occasion” He decided excitedly as he got up, dusting his perfectly clean trousers in the process.

“Rook gets one too” Manfred stated and Emmrich turned to his wife, that baffled expression that reminded her of their first flirts painting his refined features.

“Really?” Rook replied, flabbergasted too. “ Thank you Manfred! I’d be honored” Her heart squeezed in her chest, full of overflowing love for them both.

Emmrich and Manfred had a very special relationship in which she didn’t want to intrude too much. But feeling included by the curiosity spirit was an incredibly touching surprise.

- - -

A few days later, they found themselves shopping in one of Nevarra’s most famous jeweller's shops. Emmrich let Manfred in, and let the spirit survey the displays while he explained their needs to the clerc. Rook wondered if they often sold jewellery destined to undead; none the less, the clerc didn’t bat an eye at the weird family’s request. Perfect client service was expected from such a place, and Emmrich was a regular customer.

They waited patiently for Manfred to choose a ring, watching him ponder the options. At one point he came to Emmrich to ask what price was the limit. Thoughtful of him; he was well taught, and more and more proficient in calculus as well as assessing the value of things. Unsurprisingly, Emmrich told him not to worry about it. The watcher now earned a more than comfortable living yet he didn’t throw money away and was often more frugal than most would expect. He had consequent savings but wouldn’t be stingy when the expanse was deemed important. Of course he wouldn’t put a price limit to the symbol of his bond with Manfred. Rook was sure her husband would pluck the stars from the sky to satisfy his protégé’s curiosity. Thankfully Manfred was too pure to purposefully take advantage of it.

Manfred’s final choice was a thin golden double band joined with a discrete pale turquoise green emeral in the center. Its color reminded Rook of the skeleton’s eyes, and she would be happy to wear the same one on her left pinky finger, close to her wedding ring. Emmrich decided on the same finger placement, and the clerc happily took their meisurements, not commenting except to praise their taste in gems. They would receive the rings just in time for Manfred’s ressurection anniversary.

Emmrich was last to go for measurements, and while waiting for him, Rook joined Manfred, who was still admiring the jewels in the display cases. His attention was completely taken it seemed by a tiny silver hairpin shaped like a coiled up snake, a pale zircon in place of its eye.

“You do have great taste in jewellery Manfred” Rook commented “Too bad you don’t have luscious hair to wear that”

Emmrich arrived just when her joke flopped. “Are we good to go?” He asked, and Manfred finally took his gaze off the hairpin. Only to point at it with his finger.

“I get it for Neve”

Emmrich stepped back and Rook hid a snorted chuckle in her hand at the way his jaw almost dropped to the floor.

While his caretaker was having an existencial crisis, Manfred took out his personnal money pouch from his hip satchel. He started sorting the coins, and when he was done, showed Emmrich the large amount resting in his opened palm. “Is this enough?” He asked, still unsure about his calculus skills.

It turned up he did get the amount right, but even if that hairpin was small and amongst the cheapest articles in the shop, its price still represented a good two-thirds of Manfred’s savings.

Emmrich cleared his throat and eyed the coins with uncertainty. “That would be the exact price indeed, well done on your calculus. But are you sure you wish to spend that amount on this gift?” He asked gently. “It represents a few months of your earnings as an apprentice, and I won’t be compensating it with a rise of your allowance”

“I buy” Manfred brushed off Emmrich’s concerns, and the watcher sighed in defeat.

What more could he say? Manfred needed guidance to prevent him from getting into dangerous situations but he wasn’t a child. He was his own person, and deserved to be able to make enlightened decisions of his own.

“I’m sure Neve is going to love it” Rook encouraged him. “We’ll have to invite her as quickly as possible”

“It is a very beautiful and thoughtful gift indeed” Emmrich agreed.

While Manfred paid, Emmrich placed a hand on Rook’s waist, bringing her closer, pressing her to his side.

“Our skeleton son has grown so much” She teased him, resting her head against his arm with a content sigh.

Emmrich didn’t correct her anymore; he knew now that it was a lost cause to stop her from fondly calling Manfred their son.

“I wish he wouldn’t grow so fast” He confessed his worries to her.

“Next thing we’ll know he’ll be getting married” Rook couldn’t resist teasing him. It had always been her way of trying to lift up his spirits. “I hope you’re ready for grandchildren” She said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Emmrich almost choked on his saliva. He gave Rook a chidding look and she only grinned in return.

“We should probably warn Lucanis that he’s got some serious competition”

“That is quite enough dearest” Emmrich reprimanded, but at the same time, he squeezed her waist harder.

A few meters away, the clerc was handing Manfred a small blue gift bag that the spirit took with a giddy sort of caution. It was adorable.

“I believe we’ll remember this day for a long time” Rook whispered, looking up to the beautiful face of her husband.

Emmrich placed a small kiss atop her head. “I treasure the memories of each day I am allowed in your company”

#emmrook #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #veilguard fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #manfred the skeleton #manfred dragon age #da veilguard #emmrich dragon age #rook dragon age #emmrich romance #rook x emmrich #da4 emmrich

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morgana-larkin · 29 days ago

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Hi!

Can you please do an Agatha x Reader fic where Agatha recruits you to the coven but when all the coven is in the Road all the other coven members are always hitting on reader and Agatha is jealous so she starts to distance herself from reader until Agatha snaps (some jealous with smut if it is possible)🙏🏽

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for the Agatha request. I didn’t know if you wanted them together or not but thought it’d be better if they were already together. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Her Witch

Warnings: Jealous Agatha, smut

Words: 4.7k

“What the hell happened here?!?! AGNES!” You yell as you see the state of the house. You then see Agnes running towards you in a robe.

“Y/N, hey.” She says.

“I go out of town for a couple of weeks and then the house gets destroyed? Like where’s the front door and… and why is there a teenage boy tied up?” You ask her.

“Well first of all, I got my memories back, I’m back to Agatha.” She starts and your eyes widen.

“You got your memories back?” You say in disbelief and she nods. You then lunge at her in a hug. “Oh thank god! How?”

“Well this boy right here.” She says and points to the tied up teenage boy. “He casted a spell and broke me out.” The teenage boy nods his head at you with a smile.

“How did you break through a spell placed by the scarlet witch? I’ve been trying for 3 years.” You say and he shrugs his shoulders.

“I just did.” He says.

“You obviously don’t know the extent of your abilities, since you’re powerful enough to break through the spell.” You tell him.

“Well whatever you were doing was starting to work, I felt like I was losing my mind.” Agatha says and you smile.

“I know, it was entertaining.” You tell her and she smiles at you. “Now why are you in a robe? And what happened to the front door?”

“Well remember Rio?”

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.” You say with a sigh.

“No, she also helped break me out and it shedded all of my clothes and she broke through the door trying to kill me. That’s all.”

“You must be back to yourself if someone is already trying to kill you.”

“Well also I’m walking the Witch’s road so I can get my magic back and defend myself.”

“Woah! No way! You are not walking the witch’s road without magic Agatha! Last time you barely made it and you had magic.” You tell her sternly.

“Well what if you came with me, to defend me?” She suggests and you already know your answer.

“We don’t even have a coven. We need one to open the road.” You tell her and she smiles.

“I know, me and teen here are going to find some witches.” She tells you and you look at him.

“What’s your name?” You ask him and he answers you but all you see is a symbol covering his mouth and it blocks the answer. You turn to look at Agatha and she gives you a quirked brow and a smile. “How interesting.” You say and she nods.

“I know right. So I’ll just get dressed and then we’ll go.” She says and then she goes to find some clothes.

“Do you mind untying me?” He says.

“Want to pass me a knife then.” You say and he looks around. “Top drawer over there.” You tell him and point. He goes over and with a bit of trouble, gets a knife and then passes it to you.

“I didn’t know Agatha Harkness had a wife.” He tells you as you cut the rope.

“She doesn’t, she has a girlfriend. Got together a year ago and we were friends before that” You say and then he turns around to face you.

“Cool, I have a boyfriend.”

“Are you walking the witch’s road as well?” You ask him and he nods. “You might want to say your goodbyes then, just in case.” You tell him and he looks at you confused. “The last time Agatha and I walked that road with a few other witches. We were the only ones that made it to the end.” You tell him and his eyes widen.

“Ok I’m ready to go, let’s go team.” Agatha says and she goes to walk out. “Oh also Rio is telling the Salem Seven that I’m alive and we have until sun down.” Agatha says and walks out of the house.

“Wait! The Salem Seven! Are you kidding me?!?” You say as you run after her.

“That’s why we need to find these other witches and open the road before then.” She tells you with a smile. You all get into teen’s car and he starts driving away.

“So we have me and a green witch.” Agatha says and teen looks at you through the mirror.

“You’re a green witch?” He asks you and you nod. “So you like, control nature?”

“Yep, my lady.” You say and hand Agatha a flower that you made appear.

“You’re such a flirt.” She says with a laugh. “But thank you.” She says and takes the flower from you. “Oh stop here.” She suddenly says and teen pulls over safely.

“Isn’t this Lilia’s place?” You ask her and she nods.

A couple hours later and you’re on your way back home to get ready for the witch’s road. You are sitting on the bed while Agatha gets changed.

“Do you think we’ll survive?” You ask her and she stops getting dressed for a second and looks at you.

“We survived last time didn’t we?”

“Because of luck and you had powers to help protect yourself. You’re a witch without magic, you’re kind of a sitting duck.” You said and she snorts.

“Why do you think I want it back? I know you can’t always be right by my side to protect me.” She tells you and cups your cheek. “We’ll be alright.” She tells you and you nod at her.

“It’s almost time, let’s go.” You tell her and stand up as she puts on a blue coat. “Purple is more your colour but that coat looks so good on you.” You tell her and she wraps her arms around your waist.

“Ya? We can have sex after we get back, when death isn’t looming over my head.” She says and then kisses your forehead before heading downstairs.

You both get downstairs and after a few minutes, the witches show up and you sing the ballad. The door appears just as the Salem Seven show up and you all run down the path to the road. Once you get there, you look at the road, taking it in and it looks exactly the same as the last time you were here. You all take your shoes off and then start walking. You stay a bit behind Agatha but close enough that you can defend her if needed and Jenn catches up with you.

“So you’re Y/n right?” She asks and you nod.

“Yep.”

“How do you know Agatha?” She asks.

“We’re friends.” You tell her. You and Agatha agreed that you wouldn’t tell people you’re dating until after she gets her powers back, to keep you protected.

“Why are you friends with her? She’s a known killer.”

“Because, after you get past that part then she’s pretty cool.”

“You’re weird.” She tells you and you look straight ahead of you with an eye roll and a smile. “You’re also very cute.” She adds and you whip your head at her and she’s smiling at you. You blush slightly at her compliment.

“Thank you.” You say, not knowing what else to say. You briefly see Agatha look behind at you then brings her attention back to Teen.

“Aren’t you two dating?” Teen asks Agatha and Agatha brings a finger to her mouth in a shushing gesture.

“We are but it’s safer for her if no one knows until I get my powers back.”

“Why is it safer for her?” Teen asks her.

“Because a lot of people want me dead and if they find out I don’t have magic then they’ll come after me. And of course some of them will go after Y/n to get to me when they find out that she’s a weakness of mine. And without my magic I can’t protect her. So don’t tell anyone, especially these women because they can use her against me.” She explains to him and he nods.

“Look a house!” Teen suddenly says and you all turn to where he’s pointing. You go and stand right beside Agatha and you both look at each other briefly, knowing the first trial has begun. You all walk up to the house and enter. As you enter the house, your appearance and clothes changes for the trial.

“Ew a light pink blazer,I’m definitely more of a green girl.” You say and you see Jenn and Alice chuckle silently.

“You’re telling me, I’m more into purple and I’m in a beige shirt and sweater.” Agatha tells you and you giggle at her outfit.

“You do look ridiculous.” You say and start laughing harder at her.

“Alright pink blazer, laugh later.” She says and playfully hits your arm as she walks past you with a smile.

“I might not get the chance to laugh at your outfit later.” You tell her as you all start looking around the house.

5 minutes later…

“You’re a little swollen.” Alice tells you and you look at your wine glass then at their panicked faces.

“Oh shit, it’s poison isn’t it?” You ask Jenn and she nods before they all go look in a mirror. You then turn to look at Agatha who is walking up to you. “Is it bad?” You whisper and she smiles at you.

“I think you look fantastic.”

“You’re such a fucking liar, but thank you.” You say and she chuckles slightly. “You know you have to drink it as well, and they will notice that you didn’t.” You tell her.

“You know me so well.” She tells you with a smirk before she goes to look for other clues.

The group comes back to you and starts asking you questions to figure out what type of poison it is. Then they all look shocked at your face as it’s back to normal and they all go to touch theirs and feel it be back to normal.

“Is it the poison that I think it is?” You ask Jenn after they all look to see their faces back to normal.

“Alewife’s revenge.” She says and you sigh.

“Face swelling is just the first sign.” You say and she nods.

“Next is dizziness, delirium, loss of motor function.”

“My heart is racing.” Alice says.

“That’s another one.” Jenn adds. “Also hallucinations and eventually death.” She says and you all look at her with a horrified look.

“We have to get out of here.” Agatha says as she realises that both you and her can die. She goes to a window with a hard object and starts hitting it, it starts to shatter when you’re able to grab the object from her and place it down. While doing that, everyone else realises she didn’t drink the poison and try to convince her. She only drinks it to stop Teen from drinking it and she downs the entire thing. “Ugh, it’s so cheap.” She says and you crack a smile.

Your smile falters as you start seeing Wanda standing over Agatha, about to kill her.

“Wanda please! Please spare her, don’t kill her please!” You say as you start to summon your magic and use it. Just as you were about to use your magic, a hand on your arm stops you and you’re brought face to face with Agatha.

“It wasn’t real, just a hallucination.” She tells you as you start to calm down. “Potions witch.” She turns to Jenn with a swollen face. “Time to make an antidote.” She tells her and Jenn nods. “Are you ok?” She asks you when everyone runs off to the kitchen. You nod at her and she brings you for a quick hug. “I’m starting to regret bringing you. I could lose you on the road.”

“I decided to come with you, you didn’t force me.” You tell her and she strokes your head.

“You came to protect me so in a way I kinda forced you.” She says and you smile at her.

“I wanted to protect you, so come on, let’s go help make sure we don’t die.” You tell her and you both make your way into the kitchen.

Jenn goes over everything needed to make the antidote. Teen and Alice go to find something, while you, Lilia and Agatha go to find an ingredient. You 3 make your way to the garage only to realise there’s no car which means no gas and then make your way to the bathroom and look through the creams.

“Try to save Agatha.” You suddenly hear and both you and Agatha turn to Lilia.

“Ye-yes, I love this plan. I just think that we should find the ingredients first though, right?” Agatha says and you look at Lilia suspiciously. You all go to walk to the kitchen and you see Lilia trail off a bit so you take the chance to speak to Agatha.

“Agatha, why did she say ‘try to save Agatha’?” You ask her and she shrugs. “She’s a divination witch, she might have seen something in the future. Doesn’t that scare you?” You ask her.

“This whole thing scares me ok. The Witches road is no joke and last time everyone else died. I honestly don’t care if everyone else dies, as long as you and I survive alright?” She tells you seriously and you nod. “Ok let’s get these go Jenn so we can make the antidote.” She tells you.

“Wait, where’s Lilia?” You ask and you both turn around to go and find her.

You both bump into her and she mutters something about death in Sicilian.

“What do you mean? Who’s dead?” You ask her and Agatha turns around and looks at you with a sympathetic look before turning back to Lilia.

“Ok.” Agatha tells her and Lilia calms down after that before you all go back to the kitchen.

You all meet up at the front door and you all make sure everyone is ok. Just then the crack that Agatha made in the window earlier makes a strange sound and you all go to it and see there’s water dripping and Jenn confirms that it's salt water.

“Ok let’s go get that antidote ready.�� You say and they all nod before going to the kitchen. You all gather around the sink and begin putting in the ingredients. You all finally manage to get it ready and you’re all about to pull a strand of hair when Agatha walks away, clearly in a hallucination. Agatha screams out and falls back on the floor and you run to her.

“Agatha! Agatha hey.” You say and that seems to snap her out of it. “You ok?” You say and she nods after a moment.

“Agatha! Y/N!” Jenn snaps and you both look at her. “Your hair.” She says and you both stand up and go over to the sink. You both yank a strand of hair out and then you all put it in the sink at the same time. A few minutes later after working out what was missing, you all are able to take the antidote, saving you all from death. You then all escape in an oven instead of drowning.

“That was a close one.” You say and everyone takes a moment to catch their breath.

“You know, even with a swollen face, you’re still pretty.” Jenn says to you and force a smile.

“Thanks.” You say awkwardly and you see Agatha glaring at Jenn. “Can we all sit down for a moment before we walk again? That was intense.” You say and everyone agrees.

You, Jenn, Lilia and Alice all find a log to sit on while Agatha starts pacing. Alice and Jenn both sit next to you and start asking you questions about yourself. At some point you look up and you don’t see Agatha there and you furrow your eyebrows.

“Where’s Agatha?” You ask and they all look around. You get up and find her a bit further out, she has a hand leaning on a tree, looking deep in thought. “Agatha.” You say and she turns around to look at you. “Are you ok?” You ask her and she nods and clasps her hands together.

“Yep, we should probably go though just so we can get this over with.” She says and you nod.

“Ok ya, I think we all caught our breath.” You tell her. She then goes to the group to tell them that we’re continuing before dramatically swishing her coat and you smile at her antics, she’s such a drama queen.

Jenn and Alice walk next to you and continue to ask questions and occasionally throw in some compliments. You see Agatha casting glances behind her to you guys, even to you. You then all see the next trial and Alice goes to walk away from it.

“You can’t really escape from this Alice.” You tell her while Agatha walks after her. You all follow them and see the house in front of you all again. You walk up to the house and see a wax moon.

“The fire phase.” You hear Lilia say and you all look at Alice. You then all walk through and look to see 80’s items and what looks to be a recording studio.

“Check me out.” You hear Agatha say who’s looking at herself in the mirror. You all look at yourselves in the mirror and you notice you’re in a similar outfit to Agatha. The others begin to look around and Agatha turns around to face you. “The road could have made you look less desirable.” She says a little flirty and you smile.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You tell her and she catches Jenn looking over at you two.

“If anything, at least could have made you less desirable for everyone else.” She says before walking away. You look at her walking away with a confused expression.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” Alice tells you and look at your outfit.

“Thanks, nice outfits the road picked for all of us.” You say and they all agree. You then see Agatha sitting in a chair behind a glass wall and she’s staring at you. All of a sudden a terrible noise starts playing and you see Teen frantically trying to turn it off. You all cover your eyes at the noise, begging to turn it off.

“What is that?” You yell.

“I thought it was a clue.” You hear Teen say.

“Why?” Jenn asks and Teen holds up a ‘play me’ sign.

“Turn it off!” You yell and Agatha comes out of nowhere and throws it on the ground and smashes it, effectively stopping it. Right after that, a metronome starts and you all look at it. “Oh look, the trial started.” You say sarcastically.

“We’ve been cursed.” Lilia randomly says.

“Does anyone feel…lighter?” Alice asks and you all look at her strangely. Just then you start to feel like you’re burning and you start screaming in pain and fall to the floor.

Agatha and Alice both run to you and start asking what’s wrong.

“It burns! Make it stop!” You yell out. Alice finds a sharp object and starts making a circle around you while saying an incantation. When she finishes the circle then the burning stops and you stop screaming. “What was that?” You ask and Agatha goes back to your side, with fear in her eyes.

“Are you ok?” She asks and you nod. Just then Jenn starts screaming in pain and Alice goes to save her from the burning. You then all hear the flapping of wings flying across the room.

“What is that?” Lilia says.

“That must be the curse.” You say. Just then Alice goes to find what song was playing and Agatha angrily makes her way over to her.

“It’s you isn’t it? You brought this curse with you.” She questions Alice.

“I didn’t think it was real!” Alice says, scared. Just then Teen gets pushed aside and then thrown across the room, into the glass wall. Agatha, Alice and Lilia all run to him while you and Jenn are still locked in fear, in your circles.

“Is he ok?” You ask while Agatha and Lilia are coming back out.

“Do you both live in your circles now?” She asks you both.

“Maybe.” Jenn says. You get out of your circle as instruments appear in front of you all.

“We have to sing Lorna’s ballad.” Agatha says and Alice immediately disagrees. “All signs point to a jam session.”

“I’m not singing that song. The song is to open the road, we already did that.” Alice argues.

“Lorna’s version is different though.” Teen says.

“What did Lorna want from the road?” Agatha asks out loud. You then think of the song and it hits you.

“To save her daughter.” You say and everyone looks at you. Agatha then convinces Alice to play the song and you all get ready to play, with you at the drums.

You all start the song and then Agatha starts yelling in pain. You go to get up, and Alice stops playing to go to her as well.

“No, keep playing.” Agatha says, you and Alice briefly look at each other before Alice starts playing again. You love hearing Agatha sing, hearing her sing so beautifully honestly warms your heart.

“I’ll see you at the end!” Alice finishes singing and then the curse is killed and you’re all free to go through the piano. All of a sudden Alice's smile vanishes and you look to see what she’s looking at. You see Teen there and he’s bleeding and then he passes out. You all get him out of there and find a big rock to lay him on.

“He’s bleeding a lot.” Jenn says.

“What do we do?” Agatha asks.

“He‘s young…” You tune everyone out as you see Agatha’s reaction to Teen being hurt. Jenn ends up saving Teen and you all lay him down to rest and heal. You see Agatha put her coat on him before you sit by the fire with everyone else.

“So Y/n.” Alice says as she sits beside you. “What do you want at the end of the road?” She asks you.

“Oh I don’t really want anything in particular.” You say.

“Then why are you here?” Jenn asks.

“Agatha asked me to come with her, thought it’d be fun.” You say and they all look at you weirdly. You then see Agatha come to sit down on a log.

“So Agatha, do you have any battle scars?” Jenn asks her and Agatha smirks before showing her elbow.

“Knitting needle to the arm. Ever heard of the sisters of liberty?” She asks you all and you chuckle.

“No.” Jenn says.

“Exactly.” Agatha says proudly.

“Y/n, do you have any battle scars?” Alice asks you and you nod. You lift your shirt up to show your stomach.

“Deep knife cut to the stomach.” You say.

“Who did that to you?” Alice says, examining the scar.

“That witch right there.” You say and point to Agatha.

“I mean you were trying to kill me.” Agatha says, defending herself. “It’s how we met.” She adds on.

“You have a beautiful body by the way.” Jenn says as you put your shirt back down.

“Oh thank you.” You say sheepishly and you then see Agatha get up and leave and you follow after her. “Agatha.” You say and she stops walking but doesn’t turn around. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You ask her and put a hand on her arm.

“Nothing, just go sit back down.” She says and shrugs off your hand.

“I can tell something is wrong so what is it?” You ask and fold your arms.

“Just go and sit back down with your two admirers.” She says with venom in her tone.

“What? What are you talking about?” You ask her.

“Jenn and Alice. Wouldn’t you rather be close to them as they keep complimenting you, and checking you out. That’s gotta be feeding into your need for attention.” She says and walks away from you. You follow after her and turn her around forcefully.

“You’re jealous of them? Seriously?” You say with a scoff.

“Well you keep taking their compliments and not doing anything about it.” She says.

“I can’t tell them I’m with you, even though I wish I could.” You tell her and she laughs.

“Ya right.” She says. “Just go and be with one of them. I don’t know why I thought tha-” She says and you lean forward and kiss her forcefully. She immediately pushes you closer to her and grabs your head. You both pull away for air after a minute.

“Feel better now?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“No.” She says and then pushes you up against a tree, so the others can’t see you or her. She surges forward and kisses you with force, pouring her jealousy into the kiss. She starts to roam her hands on you and you moan when she cups your boobs. She inserts her tongue in your mouth when you moan and then she pins your arms above your head.

“Agatha, Agatha we can’t do this here.” You tell her and she ignores you. She kisses your neck and uses her free hand to go under your shirt and unclip your bra. She grabs one of your boobs without anything there and you gasp. She lets go of your hands and cups both of your boobs with her hands and starts rubbing the nipples while sucking on your neck. You push her hips closer to you, not even gonna try and stop her as it feels good.

“Mi amor.” Agatha says and you moan. She then slips a hand down your pants and underwear and quickly finds your clit. You buck your hips and she covers your mouth with her hand to prevent you from being loud. She starts circling your clit and you bite your lip to try and keep yourself as quiet as possible. She then goes down more and slips 2 fingers in your entrance and a gasp leaves your mouth. You haven’t gotten the chance to be intimate with Agatha, only Agnes. Although recently little bits of Agatha have been peeking through but now you got all of her.

She begins pumping in and out of you while rubbing your clit with her palm at the same time and you know you won’t last long. She puts her free hand on your throat lightly and looks deep into your eyes.

“You’re mine and only mine.” She says and puts a bit of pressure on your throat. You feel your orgasm building and you moan out. She kisses you to prevent you from making noise and your legs start to shake. She removes her hand from your throat and wraps her hand around your hip to prevent you from falling. You put your arms around her neck to help stabilise yourself as you’re at your peak. “Come for me, prove that you’re mine.” She whispers in your ear and then she kisses you as you come. She slows down inside of you before pulling out of you. She licks her fingers that were inside of you and she moans at your taste.

“Is this what sex with Agatha is like?” You ask her and she smirks.

“You’ll have to find out. But I’ll tell you that there’s sometimes magic involved and Agnes was vanilla in the bedroom compared to me.” She says and winks at you.

“Ooh, how intriguing.” You tell her and she smirks.

You both then sit down against a tree and you lay your head on her shoulder and she wraps an arm around you.

“Get some sleep, who knows when we’ll get to again.” She says and you nod with heavy eyes.

Your eyes snap open as you hear Lilia yelling and you realise you fell asleep as your head was on Agatha’s lap.

“We have to leave! It’s the Salem seven!” You hear and you both look at each other before getting up and running over to them.

Taglist:

@imaginesmultifandoms

Let me know if you want to be added!

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #x reader #fanfic #kathryn hahn

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messiahzzz · 1 year ago

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i have been thinking a lot about mystra’s relationship with gale, how reducing her to “his ex” really is an understatement. she was and still is so much more than that. moreover, using the term “ex-girlfriend” in relation to her plainly feels wrong and diminishes the influence she has over him, as well as the role she played in his life since his childhood (and it also trivializes the abuse he suffered through her).

there are several instances where gale gets defensive when his companions mention or ask him abt mystra. he claims that their relationship was no less real even though most of their interactions were incorporeal.

we have already established that gale is an unreliable narrator in this particular case, still not having fully come to terms with the fact that he was groomed, manipulated and abused. he ping-pongs between bouts of realization (even in his romance), gaining clarity that he was merely used and eventually discarded and that mystra never truly cared for him, back to making light of his situation, idealizing her once again. realizing the extent of his trauma, that he is indeed a victim in this scenario, unlearning what he has been made to believe from a young age is a slow and painful journey. he is in the process of healing, but it takes time. time he deserves just like anyone else.

which makes me wonder what their relationship really looked like, once the lines between teacher, muse, and lover began to blur. i also feel like one of the reasons why part of the fandom still struggles to identify mystra as his abuser, is because she is a white woman who initially presents herself in a soft-spoken, benevolent manner… and well, the fact that gale himself is ambitious to a fault and a lil insane about the promise of power. he also briefly mentions "crossing mystra’s boundaries” when he confides in tav and tells them about his folly. (“i am, after all, the villain in this story.”) which led to a looooot of misinterpretations.

leaving the overall lore and mystra’s treatment of her other chosen aside — what we can discern from her interactions with gale in-game, is that mystra is civil as long as she remains in control and gale follows her demands, but as soon as there’s even a slight mention of challenging her power or defying her rule, she rather quickly changes her tone.

there is also one particular exchange between them that just won’t leave my head:

“you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a savior."

even if we choose to blatantly ignore the fact that mystra is a deity, his goddess - there is no possible way that their relationship ever could have been equal by any mortal standards. the power imbalance that comes with her being his teacher and a symbol of his admiration, plus the sheer control she holds over him and his powers are simply too great. don’t even let me get started on how it is a common tactic of abusers to isolate their victims from any outside influences so they can exert full control over them. and how up to meeting tav and their merry band of misfits, every single soul he was close to was inevitably tied to mystra in one way or another. he briefly mentions his colleagues and then there’s elminster, also mystra’s chosen and former lover, and tara, who is a fine wizard in her own right. he spend so many years in service of her, dedicating his life to her, that now there is no one left he can truly call a friend. most of his little anecdotes and stories he tells are restricted to his childhood and university days, everything else was mystra.

evidently, ordering gale to detonate the orb is the most efficient course of action in her eyes. he is just as expendable as any other mortal, after all. maybe once significantly more useful given his status and the extent of his powers, but she doesn’t feel sorrow nor remorse for ordering him to end his life. his death is simply the most convenient means to an end.

another thing i would also like to briefly touch upon is the trigger/detonator itself. a dagger to the heart. it could have been literally anything else, a simple incantation. it is well within mystra’s power to stabilize the orb and also to remove it from his body entirely. but no, what she requires of gale is to stab himself. one might argue that it was simply a cinematic choice meant for a more dramatic effect, but it really leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. especially considering the fact that she is commonly known and referred to as a jealous goddess. it almost makes it seem like yet another form of punishment or mere pettiness. after his long period of isolation, gale is now surrounded by fellow humans. people he cares about, even perhaps people he might eventually consider good friends — which is enough of a reason for him to not want to die, to keep going and try to find another way, rather than to blindly follow mystra’s bidding. now there’s a group of people who support him and are genuinely invested in him staying alive. hmmm...

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #mystra #yes again ugh #i know we have been through this so many times #also another thing i forgot to mention:#apparently there are several ending variations where gale relinquishes the crown of karsus to her #but mystra only temporarily stabilizes the orb and doesn't remove it #huh #this was a long one sorry #bg3 meta #grooming cw #abuse cw

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headspace-hotel · 2 years ago

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I hope I can express this properly and sensitively, but I think oftentimes people need to have Categories and Identities and to be healthily exploratory and playful and elastic about them, else they can get vulnerable to some negative things, sometimes really awful things

I wish I could remember where I read it, but there was something that wrote about whiteness in America as an abyss.

Whiteness is something that sheltered white Americans' ancestors, and at the same time devoured them. They used to have a distinct medley of heritages: Irish, German, Scottish, Italian. "Whiteness" ate it up, the languages, the cultures. There were privileges if you destroyed it, and punishments if you held onto anything that was "Other." In a white supremacist society, white people wanted to be "white" first before any other possible identity or connection they could have.

Yay! You're white. You're on top. You win...what? Turns out the prize for "winning" is just that you get to perpetrate the violence of the game instead of being on the receiving end of it.

And that's the nasty twist—there is no prize. The deeply embedded vice of "Southern pride" is not just what the Confederate flag stands for, but also why they've got to cling so hard to that symbol of traitors and losers: they need to be on top of something so bad that even a pile of shit will do. My ancestors were ultimately dirt poor, loads of them ending up in prison or breaking their bodies down doing hard labor, but they were white. Their reward, and their pride, was being stepped on by the violence of poverty only, instead of also by the violence of white supremacy.

"White pride" is all about hate because white supremacy didn't give these folks anything to be proud of. It stripped away the culture and heritage their ancestors had in favor of "whiteness." All those jokes about how white people have no culture, well, it's true isn't it? This shit is how we ended up a primarily monolingual nation. And what looks like happened is that white Americans wound up just...scavenging most of their culture from those they oppressed. Food, music, all of that stuff. Our white ancestors didn't GIVE us anything that was their own to start with.

And this is something that really strikes me about the white supremacist and fascist movements nowadays: the starvation and hollowness behind them. These folks are empty inside. They were given nothing by white supremacy except a very vague sense that they deserve something, and they see people of all different cultures celebrating and flourishing in their unique heritages and identities, and they feel like...they've been cheated.

Equality is so threatening when you're in this situation because it feels like you've got less than everyone else at the end of the day. Not just because of comparison to previous privileges, but because your whole identity was "person that gets to step on everybody else" and your whole inheritance was "shit stolen from everybody else" and in a world where all is set right, you have no identity and nothing. You are nothing.

Anyway I was looking just now at a blog that seemed really white-supremacist-leaning and it was 99% about like, Norse and Proto-Indo-European paganism and "traditionalism" and that's what got me thinking about this again.

This person had apparently done DNA tests on themselves or something, and were really fixated on figuring out their Norse and Germanic ancestors and separating out their genetic and racial identity at a level of precision that seems really pointless that far back in time. And honestly all the paganism stuff seemed like totally arbitrary speculation as well.

And how to become satisfied as a person like this? I am just as much Germanic or Norse as they are, but I don't believe that distant ancestors determine who you are to such an extent that I have some sort of innate cultural tie to Vikings or Visigoths or what have you. I know what percentage Celtic or Anglo Saxon or Norse I am—zero. I learned about those things in books the exact same way I learned about all the cultures and past kingdoms of the world that I presumably don't have ancestors from.

I feel like the experience of being a baby ally and obsessing about apologizing for being white is the same kind of thing in another direction, or another outcome of the same process. Some people seem to get really twisted up for a time over how to stop being guilty about being white.

It's part of the same thing as this guy who is trying to genetically identify his ancestors from like 3,000 years ago. It's the emptiness and meaninglessness of "white" identity apart from white supremacy.

I talk about deradicalization sometimes and I've had the notion a few times that fascism appeals to people who are hollow and starving in terms of identity, and if it wasn't for the sense of emptiness and hunger, they would be less easily radicalized. But it's also a little bit awkward to talk about the deeply unsatisfying nature of white supremacy, because...well, that is pretty low on the list of things bad about white supremacy.

I think this concept is worth talking about in general, though: People want to feel like they come from or are part of something meaningful. They are drawn toward Identities and Categories and Belonging to groups. This is something I think is commonly true about humans, I think it is normal and not a bad thing, and I think we could stand to be a little more upfront about its reality.

I think this means that wanting, and seeking, a sense of cultural identity as a white person (particularly an American) needs to have some kind of non-horrible outlet for it. Because right now, it's nothing but a way to get radicalized, and the dominant other option people take (becoming the Guilty White Person) is liked by no one and helps nothing.

And maybe it doesn't need to have anything to do with race or culture or your ancestors or any of these things that can lead a person down such terrible paths. Maybe more of us should be furries!

As just another thing to consider, I'm reading the book Ecology of a Cracker Childhood and the author of the book uses the word "cracker" not like, with the gravity of reclaiming a "slur" or something like that, but seemingly because that is just the word she most strongly identifies with, the word that best articulates who "her people" are. This feels very solid and levelheaded to me, something that comes from someone with a good sense of themselves.

Personally I've thought a long time that more people should reclaim "redneck." Not in the sense of reclaiming a slur exactly, but in the sense of putting it in neutral usage among the folks it always referred to, instead of letting it increasingly be associated with any Southerner (regardless of working class background) that is the sort to wave a Confederate flag around. The very idea of gatekeeping "redneck" away from racists is just absolutely hilarious to me, I won't lie.

#random #identity #whiteness #i doubt anyone asked for an essay from a white southerner about race #but this is just what im thinking about tonight

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