#the only thing I disliked was that i felt like the production could be weak sometimes

[minjv]

h1-key dropping their best music yet 🤍🤍🤍🤍

[theheirofthesharingan]

Do you believe in the "curse of hatred" that Tobirama won't shut up about? Are Uchihas really dangerous like that?

I've never really gone into Tobirama's head because I don't personally like him as a character/person, but I did do some research for this ask.

So, he dislikes Uchiha. He lived in the Warring Era with Uchiha clan being their worst enemies and their biggest rivals. Of course that would influence his views on the clan and its people, because as soon as he sees Sasuke with Orochimaru, his instant reaction is to lump him with the man, without knowing anything about him.

However, at the same time, he also associates Uchiha clan with love.

As someone who had battled against them, saw how they fought and their strengths and weaknesses, he has a fair idea of the psychology of the Uchiha. What he's describing has a living and shining example in none other than Madara himself.

He seems to begrudge and admire the Uchiha. He's prejudiced against them and it's only natural because of their shared history. So, when he's calling out the Uchiha, it has a good reason. If the Uchiha were asked about the Senju, they would most likely have the similar opinion. Not all, because, yes, they accepted Tobirama's leadership over Madara's, but still. And if you notice, Tobirama specifically mentions people who shared Madara's will. He had a positive view on Kagami Uchiha.

Anyway, like I said before, he understood the Uchiha pretty well and it's not right to say that his judgement was "wrong" because what he's describing is actually a very human response, and that much love can lead to that much hatred too. It's just the extreme of the emotions and he's objectively not wrong about it. He's wrong to associate those qualities only with the Uchiha, though.

Sharingan reflects one's deepest despair and pain and we know extreme trauma awakens one's Sharingan and Mangekyo Sharingan. And the more an Uchiha suffers, the more powerful their eyes become. Sasuke is a prime example of it. Kakashi, who isn't even an Uchiha, when he felt pain and regret of the insurmountable level, he also awakened his Mangekyo. Was he an Uchiha? No. He was a human who had suffered extremely in a moment and reacted to how Tobirama describes an Uchiha would. Yes, Kakashi doesn't go out of his way to cause destruction like Obito does, but that's simply because of the outside influence of the people around them.

Kakashi was surrounded by people who loved him and Obito was lonely and manipulated into thinking he could change some things. In short, Obito's vulnerability and loneliness were taken advantage of, while Kakashi found people who cared about him.

Furthermore, people in the fandom defend and justify the Uchiha hating Senju, because of everything, but then turn a blind eye to whatever Uchiha did to Senju as well.

This, baby Itama was surrounded by a bunch of grown Uchiha men.

And killed.

Senju are evil and cruel for killing Izuna and anyone who loves that clan is depraved according to the fandom activists, but hey, how dare Tobirama hold grudges against the Uchiha for doing this to his brother.

The endless cycle of hate and violence that the main story repeatedly talks about stems from this. Truthfully, both the Uchiha and the Senju were at fault for perpetuating it. For what happened to the Uchiha clan, only Senju were not responsible, but also Madara.

Senju and Uchiha were both prejudiced against each other and they both institutionalised it. Madara through raw power when he continued to attack Konoha after becoming rogue, and Tobirama did it through the political power he held. Neither of them were innocent. But as is said, victors write history, and the narrative glorifies the idealogy shared by Naruto, Uchiha's love is antagonised and Senju are shown as good guys.

The Shinobi system itself is ruthless. It doesn't see humans as humans. I wouldn't call Tobirama a perpetrator of it, because he's the product of two system too, but he fails in his judgment, and is quite wrong about what he thinks about the Uchiha.

We see intense and violent reactions in many other characters in wake of losing the people they and the heartbreak that follows. How many of them were Uchiha? Konoan? Gaara? Nagato? None.

Tobirama doesn't see Uchiha in the positive light and it is understandable. He wants people who are loyal to Konoha. I believe we know more about Hashirama and his ideology regarding the village than we know about Tobirama. For Hashirama, the lives of people were important and that's why he wanted to establish the village. But what did Tobirama want? Did he care about the land? Did he care about the people? He seems completely okay with the fact that Uchiha clan was exterminated.

And contrary to the popular belief in the pro Uchiha camp that claims he "praised" Itachi for massacring his clan, the man doesn't see Itachi any differently, despite hearing the whole story from his own student and successor. What was he really so fixated on the village for if he cannot love its people?

Tobirama describes the intense and powerful reactions in an Uchiha that has them cursed. He says "cursed clan" rather than the "cruse of hate", because I can't find the exact words where he says that (I'd add those if someone can provide me with page/panels).

He has bad experiences, but his problem is that despite being in the position of the power and being responsible for everyone, he refused to grow up. He refuses to sympathise with a child whose family was murdered at the orders of his successor. He refuses to sympathise with a child who was forced to kill his parents and then died at his brother's hands.

He sees his own pain greater than the others (Sasuke's, Itachi's, Madara's) and justifies his prejudices based on them.

[mommyclaws]

Opinions on Leopardstar? I haven't read leopardstar's Honor yet, not sure what happens there, but I've heard it's somewhat disappointing.

I was always somewhat angry that she never really mentioned Tigerstar after the whole Tigerclan thing, and we never really got to see how she felt about the whole thing, just that the people she sent to die really didn't like her.

A Shadow in Riverclan also kinda did the same thing where she gave a little pep talk and suddenly everything was ok for Feathertail, after she had horrible ptsd from Leopardstar

I want to like her but she's such a nothing character imo to actually have an opinion on because I think she was done pretty dirty, as Riverclan and her weren't really the focus of the series for so long

I consider myself a Leopardstar fan. I’ve been wanting to talking about my feelings/view on her for a while so i’ll put all my thoughts here!

The direction they took with her in canon is dissatisfying but she has alot of groundwork that gives her interesting potential. Her father is a medic- formerly warrior- who changed his position because he is against violence. She turns into everything Mudfur wanted to escape from. Too proud, itching for a battle, apathetic to the suffering of the other clans. And even if it was a let down, I can appreciate the authors at least tried to do more with her character than let her off the hook as easily as Blackfoot.

I like her mostly in comparison to my dislike for Blackstar's character. He teamed with Brokenstar and Tigerstar, committed murders and didn’t protest to the abuse of his own clan. He does nothing to atone and doesn't even seem particularly remorseful but he's still rewarded by being made leader. Leopardstar was already in power when she made the decisions that cost cats their lives. Cats trusted her to protect them and her neglect threw them into savagery and death. Standing by to allow kits and her own deputy be slaughtered is GRUESOME. I read her as someone blinded by ambition, just another product of the code. She misjudged then got in over her head with Tigerclan and was willing to toss others aside to save her own tail. Maybe she truly is remorseful, but it doesn't change what she did. Nothing can.

Crookedstar's leadership was very relaxed and she considered him weak. He gave up land to Shadowclan, he could never keep Sunningrocks, he allowed Thunderclan to take refugee on multiple occasions, and all of the half clan cats he accepts are seemingly only because they're his kin. She had thoughts of making Riverclan powerful and feared once he was out of the picture, it's why she completely disregarded his dying wishes- She couldn't bring herself to respect him.

The politics of Riverclan change drastically with her nine lives. Closed borders and no tolerance for Thunderclan, not even Graystripe, who only wanted to be with his kits. Riverclan is strong. But it could be stronger, couldn't it? She and Tigerclaw served as deputies together, even if he was the enemy, she thought well of him. He is a fierce and respected Thunderclan warrior. Or so he was. While she initially thought it a red flag he was now serving Shadowclan, she couldn't disagree with him for leaving Thunderclan when she already had so much resentment for them and ruling Shadowclan, it was true. They had been weaken for many moons, it was Tigerstar who reunited them and made them powerful. So when he promises to make her clan just as powerful, together, she doesnt refuse.

She very consistently and vocally had a dislike for half-clan cats. She exiled Graystripe. She calls Featherpaw and Stormpaw liabilities. She banishes Stormfur and Brook. I think she has very genuine hateful beliefs but at the same time she’s horrified at what happened to Stonefur. That was a cat she was trusting to become the next leader of Riverclan. And he was killed for defending innocent lives. She knows she was wrong, she regrets it, she has nightmares about the bonehill. (<- This was confirmed by an author apparently!) but her attempts to “atone” are surface level and shallow at best. She wants to be forgiven without changing. She makes Mistyfoot deputy to show she’s better now, but what meaning does that position have after Stonefur was slaughtered? She apologizes to Feathertail and Stormfur, but they still feel like complete outcasts. They’re more friendly with their former clanmates in Thunderclan and Leopardstar later exiles Stormfur over a faked sign. I think her attempts were never to better herself or right her victims, but to relieve her own guilt. She’s always prioritized herself above others.

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 5

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Donnie has a question for you in this week's chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it, Menstruation

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

“Donnie!”

For the simplicity of his nickname, there were so many ways you could say it. Even at a higher volume the slightest twang could manipulate the meaning. You had yelled for him, at him, and in calling. You’d sought him out of crowds. He’d surprise you. You fought. It was range, you supposed. It was the kind that illustrated your relationship by emphasizing one particular point.

It was one he was keen on undulating.

He already had a mastery of your noises on the barest level, but he’d come to elicit everything from your euphoric screams. It might have been your increased sessions where you went at it furiously for about a week straight, but you had really been taking notice lately.

He wanted you to know exactly who was inseminating you.

It was a thrill just to think and in practice it wasn’t something you realized until your throat was hoarse. He’d bring you to the brink in an all consuming way where all you could think was to scream out his only calling card. It was him in an essential distillation. It seemed ridiculous that there was ever a time when he disliked the shorthand of his name. It was all he wanted to hear now and hear it he did.

You gasped back to clarity and he was still there.

Too much of him in fact as you were immediately hoisted into the air.

You’d already shouted his name more times than you could count about this particular occurrence. Since your second month of trying for a baby, he had started grabbing you by the ankles after lovemaking. The pair fit easily in his hand and was, in his mind, the best handle to lift you with. Since baby imagery was on the mind, the fact that you were lifted up from there gave you nothing but the appearance of needing to be changed. The way he had to lay a pillow underneath you only increased said imagery which you had protested hotly until he finally relented.

The end product was ultimately the same, your hips would be propped up, but he at least used a scooping arm instead of a demeaning lift of your legs now. He had the angle down to a science and an exact pillow picked out. Your hips were laid upon the cushion and you relaxed. Your knees would bob in the bottom of your vision and you’d grown used to being stuck on your back.

“Alright?” Donnie’s head darted as he appraised you.

“Yup. Cool.” You stared dully at the canopy. “So cool.”

That same yank of concern pinched his brows. “Dearest…”

“It doesn’t get better, ya know?” You sighed. “I get the pillow thing. I get it helps the sperm gravity slide to the uterus. I get it, but it still sucks just… in general. “

“I know…” He took care in sitting beside you so you wouldn’t be jostled.

All it did was make you more acutely aware of how you couldn’t stop your complaints. “For 20 to 30 minutes I’m stuck on my back! We can’t have any regular cool down anymore! After care? Nope! Cuddling? Impossible! We need to do everything possible to make sure our stupid gametes mix!”

Donnie was quiet. You knew he wasn’t waiting for you to finish; he was letting you vent. It felt like he wanted you to stop though. There was something to how he couldn’t meet your eye. His protests were loud enough without a single action.

You both wanted this so why would you complain?

He had never pressed the matter, only presented it. Using the pillow wasn’t any sort of guarantee. There was barely science to support it. After your first month’s failure, it felt like you were already on desperate measures. The science that barred him from actionable ways to stimulate fertilization wore on his being. He hated being denied.

Like how he was currently being denied children.

Amongst everything else.

Why couldn’t you just lie on your back and take this one thing?

You reached for your knees as no logic query would abate your fury. They came to you with a flare in your mate’s interest because of course it did. While hugging your knees to your body could support the maneuver, you were already in a primped position. If you were moved you chanced the slightest slip of semen and it would certainly end in you unfertilized if that were up to chance.

Rage had you tugging your legs down anyway.

Donnie came to primp your posture.

“Donnie.” You protested softly.

His hands were out in an anxious hover to correct you.

“You act like it’s the end of the world if we don’t do this!” You told him with tears in your eyes.

It cracked his expression.

There it was.

Everything underneath.

The same toil you knew was there.

He was holding so much back.

You hated this process.

You hated that the moment he ejaculated, he had to leave you.

You hated that you couldn’t soothe him.

It was only your second month.

With your chances this could go on for any number of months or even years.

How could you break so soon?

“Hurry…” You decided on.

He was lightning fast in angling your body.

You couldn’t even feel the linger of skin contact.

It left you cold. 

It was too soon for this.

Time stretched on in an infinite sort of way and the not knowing was also there.

“Timer.” You spoke something that sounded chilled to your ears.

It appeared and read something to the tune of 22 minutes.

You turned your head away from it and felt how cold your wet cunt was.

Donnie lightly brushed your arm.

He was there.

He was stooped beside you so he could get to your eye level.

He was off the bed and opened connection lines.

You felt his similar abysmal thoughts commingle with yours.

Within your band it felt like there was a space all your own. A room where your most essential beings could meet as long as both parties opened the connection portals. There was feedback streaming in all day in a regular sense, but over time the two of you had honed that into something more defined. There was you, there was him, and there was you both.

You slipped into that space with your eyes closed.

You’d visualize it for the sake of your currently lonely body.

Donnie’s essence wrapped around you like an embrace. You thought his name loudly and in an imprecise way he responded with yours. A calling that you’d both done in many senses, this one was the reassurance; that you shared the same strife. He was obviously sympathetic that you took on the physical portion and you were sure that was only going to continue were his sperm to ever take.

The pain.

There would be extreme pain, the likes of which others could only be compared to. Giving birth was considered the metric. It could take hours, it often did, and it ravaged the body even more than growing an entire other little person already did. It came with chemicals made distinctly by the body just to help you forget the process because without that little biological factor, the human race might have died out eons ago with their maladaptive forms, gaits, and pathetic pelvis formations.

To say you weren’t looking forward to it was an understatement.

How would that feel to Donnie?

Neither of you had suffered real injury since completing the ritual of your martial bond. There had been toe stubbings and bug bites, but you hadn’t felt those inaugurating pangs. What you felt was a zip of magical energy that read as distress. It was the emotion you felt and not the pain itself.

Except for Donnie’s scars.

He had tissue all over his body that had been ravaged and it was why he wore compression gear. Those aches didn’t read like anything distinct. Donnie had been dealing with that chronic pain for most of his life. It wasn’t something he thought about specifically as it was omnipresent. The only times it really came up was on cloudy days just before the skies opened. It was then that he would move just a bit slower. 

You still weren’t exactly sure and hadn’t brought it up, but it was in your special room that you felt what you believed was a facsimile of it. It was like there was a dull throb to the space itself. Since the space was an equal mix of both your beings, it melded into your mind as something encompassing, but ubiquitous. You supposed that was how he felt about the pain’s existence and it read to you like a rash. It lingered with a burn along your imagined limbs and settled into something you could forget if you were still enough in the right position. It intrigued you that it was something that could be shared through your wedding band though its ramifications haunted you.

He felt enough pain and you didn’t want to pile on more.

Could you control that during childbirth?

How could you not instinctively claw and call for your mate, your ultimate source of comfort?

You’d probably want to kill him under false pretenses of him putting you through it.

You were frustrated enough as it was with him having only asked you to lay on your back after every session.

It was unreasonable.

Your frustrations stemmed from elsewhere.

It was the tenderness of a child, you thought.

A culmination of everything you hoped not coming to fruition made you as soft as a baby. Your emotions were raw and nubile. You bet it also had something to do with the treatment of pregnancy throughout your relationship. It loomed and had become commonplace due to your kinks. It seemed cosmically unfair that your proclivity was unreachable when it could easily be commonplace.

Donnie had said something about his kink coming about because of how he hadn’t thought he could impregnate someone.

It was sad in a way.

Sad in the same way you were laying with your hips raised on a pillow.

No, that was cruel.

Infertility was not synonymous with your willing act. 

You were a mess.

Wasit all just because you were frustrated?

What else could it be?

You blinked your eyes open slowly.

In one of Donnie’s many talks he had said something about hormones.

You felt like you knew, but you were in a state of second guessing yourself. “Am I ovulating?”

“No.” Your husband hadn’t moved and was watching you.

Something about that didn’t sound right. “That’s… Wait, bring up the calendar.”

It appeared before your eyes.

You found the dot marker that said what day today was.

It also clearly read that today was the first day of your ovulation phase.

“Donnie…” You let the weight of knowledge heap upon his name.

“It’s an estimation.”

“Based on you tracking me.”

“Correct.”

“Then who’s to say?” Your shoulders moved slightly with your protest.

The timer appeared like an irritant to say you still had two minutes and thirty-six seconds.

You shot him a warning glare and it disappeared.

“Me.”

“You what?”

“I’m, as you put it, to say.”

“You can’t know that.”

His lips turned down in challenge.

“You can’t! You can use your best estimation! You can feel the state of my discharge or whatever. I’ve read the same things you have!”

“Y/N-!”

“Why else would I be like this!?” You huffed.

“You know why…” His voice dipped low for the sensitive subject matter.

“Sperm live 3 or 5 days, whatever, yeah, sure.” Your voice sounded like you didn’t believe him.

That would trigger him explaining the science again and you saw him take a breath in preparation for it.

“No!” You shouted to cut him off.

You blew out a breath.

“No.” You tried again. “You don’t have to explain it. Let me… Yes, I know they do, or can, but it’s just like… I could be ovulating and this could be helping or I could not be and this isn’t doing anything! It’s like a catch 22! It sucks. It sucks if we know. It sucks that we don’t. The whole thing sucks, but it’s a necessary suck…”

“Y/N, you don’t-”

“So it’s not ovulation… Can this be the new diet thing?”

You heard a blessed ding that your time was over and sat right up.

Donnie fumbled to get some tissues.

You currently didn’t care how you soaked the damn pillow. “It’s what we figured out we could up our chances with!”

You snatched a tissue when he offered it and cleaned yourself up.

“We can’t stimulate hormones with medication, but we have a level of control over natural consumption! Omega-3 fatty acids are known to increase the likelihood of conceiving-!”

Your voice grated on your ears.

“Full fat dairy boosts ovulatory regulation! You’re eating more vitamin E for sperm! Lycopene for sperm!! Antioxidants for sperm!!!”

Donnie caught your hands.

You turned to him and felt that hopeless welling in your chest. “I know and I’m sorry! I’m sorry I keep complaining. I’m sorry I’m not taking this well! I’m sorry I’m trying to blame my shitty attitude on a hormone imbalance especially because like why would you even let that happen to me!? I’m just… Ugh!!!”

He squeezed tightly.

It was paired with a probing in your wedding band.

There was no false equivalence this time.

Now he was actually waiting for you to finish.

You cracked an eye to view him.

He watched you warily and waited until your calm was assured before he spoke.

“Y/N, I might be mistaken. Which case, feel free to berate me accordingly, but… it seems you are under the impression that I have only tracked your cycle in human terms.”

“What… do you mean? We had to limit blood tests because the damned government was concerned with your needle consumption and it’s not like we invested in an in-home scanner…”

“Because both were wholly unnecessary…”

“Yeah, because we have the schedule you set up. That’s why you did those daily exams for months. You figured out all the timing. You keep adjusting it for whenever my periods start and stop.”

He readjusted the grip on your hand and seemingly his sanity.

You frowned deeply.

“It’s not you.” He felt compelled to explain.

You soured further.

“It’s not.” He pressed both his voice and your wedding band. “While I adore research, the field of obstetrics haunts me. There is an alarming amount of misinformation and it is grossly available and perpetuated. You give my distress voice in a way I cannot.”

That sounded very honest and you felt worse for thinking he meant it maliciously.

“My heart…” He had only adoration and lifted up to nuzzle you. “We act as each other’s strengths. I cannot succumb at this time, but know if you had the fortitude I would.”

“You’re saying you want to though… That isn’t better…” Your voice warbled.

“Would you not step up if I were at my wit’s end?”

“Of course, I would!”

“If you were also taxed?”

“Donnie…”

He pulled back enough so you could see his knowing smirk.

It brought a bubble of happiness up from the abysmal lake in your chest.

He saw to it and kissed you.

You allowed yourself to release more of that building steam.

You stole a few more pecks before you pulled on him.

He crawled up into the bed to join you and you immediately coiled around him.

You did not miss how he kicked your prop pillow out of the way with a palpable ire.

You hugged him tightly.

He sighed straight into a churr.

“What were you talking about then…?” You murmured, feeling quelled.

“We spoke of tracking you in so many means, I failed to inform you of what was arguably the most important case…”

“There’s also a huge chance I missed it or… forgot…”

He thought for a moment before he returned to rumbling against your head. “Possible, but regardless.”

“Was it the home ovulation test? I feel like that was something we decided not to do, but I can’t remember why…”

He chuckled.

“Or the pregnancy tests? No, we go through a mountain of those every few weeks...”

He gave you a nudge before he sat up.

You rolled onto your back of your own violation to watch him since he seemed to have something prepared.

“Y/N.” He addressed you with importance.

“Yes?” You debated sitting up, but you were finally comfortable.

“I’ve trained myself to smell your ovulation.”

His gravity took on an air of comedy.

You let out a puff of laughter.

He held steady in a way that appeared to be enhancing the joke.

You chuckled a few times and lightly shoved him as you sat up. “Good one, Don. I’m feeling better. What was it really?”

He continued to wait beside you.

You looked him over.

His brows only rose in a way that told you he wasn’t joking.

“That’s… not a thing. There’s no scent to it. I read the studies.”

“Body odor.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Y/N.”

“There’s no smell.”

“Not that humans can pick up on.”

“This goes way far back to before any of the baby making stuff! There’s no human sex pheromone! I remember you said that line exactly!”

“Then you’ll remember what came next.”

“That you could smell I was turned on because you could smell when I got wet! Not that I was giving off a pheromone; you could smell my discharge!”

Donnie’s head bobbed as if that was the answer.

“You can’t smell when an egg gets released!”

“No.” He leaned into you. “I can’t.” 

Something about his intensity caused your stomach to flip.

He smiled as he glanced down your body, satisfactorily.

You squeezed your legs together.

He took it as a demonstration and traced down your thigh.

Goosebumps were left in its wake as he knew exactly what type of pressure was teasing.

You squirmed slightly before you released your tensing.

His hand trended inward and caressed the sensitive skin there.

The many sessions had your body especially keyed in and you felt your core stir.

He finally pulled from you only to inhale deeply from what was obviously the scent of your sex. “I can’t smell the functions. I can’t smell gonadotropin-releasing hormone or follicle-stimulating hormone or luteinizing hormone or estrogen or progesterone.”

You felt dizzy from the list and his hand heavy just above your sex.

“But I can smell your discharge. I have long been attuned to it. I believe I mentioned tasting notes all those years ago. Do you know how diverse yours are? They are like your brand. You have a distinct scent like none other.”

You bit your lip.

Donnie churred loud and had to interrupt his own throat. “Throughout your cycle it continues to read as such, but with daily examination, I found I could smell certain fluctuations. The thickening of the endometrium. The nutrients meant for the blastocyst. The flow of your cervical fluid.”

You reached for him.

He offered you his arm.

He allowed you to puppet him into touching between your legs.

You felt the wet in your mouth as your pussy lips parted.

“Donnie…”

“Alone these scents were mere deviations that could be credited to diet, but when I became hyper aware of your cycle?”

His fingers dipped into your folds.

“Y/N…” He spoke only desire.

You tried to mouth the same, but made little noise.

He quirked his hand so both his digits pressed your entrance. “I wouldn’t say believe; I know when you are ovulating. It is the scent of the ripest, juiciest, sweetest fruit that only you produce.”

“Again…” You urged him. “Let’s go again…” 

He grinned predatory and spread his fingers to open you up.

Cold spilled inside of you as you imagined the scent equally poured out.

It hit Donnie in an exaggerated inhale that was nearly immediately cut off.

Your mate stopped breathing.

Worry tinged you immediately and you pressed his limb.

“Donnie?”

His eyes opened and it wasn’t just the light that moved his pupil.

You watched it explode in growth.

He then shifted darkened attention to your face.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Don...?”

“Ask me again…” His words were soaked with drool.

You saw a bit of it in the corner of his mouth and almost wanted to wipe it were your blood pressure not sky high. “Am… I ovulating?”

“Yes.”

You crashed into each other like it was a given.

It gave you a strange sense of clarity as you did your best to consume one another.

That sort of accuracy was startling.

If Donnie’s nose was that acclimatized then you bet he could smell anything that translated through your sex. You knew the taste of your juices could be affected by food and that smell was an extension of that. You bet that he could probably tell from your scent now if you’d had a soda that day.

It was an exciting revelation. Already your sex was something you considered to be under his jurisdiction, but knowing you couldn’t conceal anything from him there was further titillating. Your entanglements revealed even more to him than just your wedding band and you liked it that way. You were solely his in both that way and the way he took you down to the sheets.

He was biting, you could feel it. He nipped your skin as he traced down you like a starving man. It was as if you hadn’t done it twice today already and an amount you’d lost count of in this entire cycle. That obsession you both craved now had a tangible output besides the small goal of cumming and the larger aim of closeness. You were going to mix your beings in more than just the room of your wedding brand; you were going to make a child.

Not just the rousing lead up conversation, but your body’s alarming poignant timing had charged your mate. Your last cycle, he must not have smelled when you started ovulating because of work. Now, he’d scented the exact moment and he was crazed for it. He palmed over you in a heavy way that said nothing was enough. You chirped heady for him to speak something similar and it spurred him further on.

He groped you unable to leave a tactile sense free from consumption before he hooked your hips and turned. It spun you around so you were staring down the mattress. It had been awhile since you’d seen it like this and, on your hands and knees, you spun to find him ready to mount with his cock in hand. Despite his shaded gaze, he was fully cognizant as he lined himself up.

You groaned at the sight and popped your ass plush for him.

He churred loud for it and sank into you. You spread your fingers to take the weight and he immediately coiled around your waist like a belt. He was your safety bar as his cock settled fully inside you and he rumbled out ecstasy before he rut.

You imagined he might clamp down on your mating mark since the need reminded you so much of his heat, but instead his voice rose.

“Gonna fill that perfect little cunt of yours. You always say I was made to breed, but look at you. You present like my cock sleeve. You get wet by my words. You ache for my seed. You're ready and willing whenever I want and this damned fit…!”

Your face exploded on contact.

Your mate was no stranger to dirty talk, but he rarely said more than a few key lines.

You could only mewl in return.

He poured over you as he slammed into you repeatedly.

“Astonishing. Astounding. Awe-inspiring-!”

He continued to run through an alphabetical list of praises until he switched his angle and you lost sense of what he was spouting.

“We said…!” He pulled out his length to the hard press of his spread.

“Donnie!!”

“How… it was that you took me, but never why!”

“Why!?” You tried to envelope him, but he kept you at bay.

“Because…” He spoke directly into your ear.

You gave an all too eager mating call.

“You weren’t just made for me…”

His cock hung like the peak before the drop on a rollercoaster.

You chirped out a babble.

He snaked a hand up to catch your jaw so you’d look at him.

Your eyes leaked as you did.

He smiled too sweetly for his actions.

“You were made for me to breed.”

He slammed back in, struck your g-spot, and you screamed.

He followed through, repeating the maneuver until only he held you upright as he humped into your gangle of limbs. Still, your muscles spasmed from the taxing position. Your leg twitched and you felt the makings of a Charlie Horse that Donnie fucked away. He plowed into you with a purely animalistic drive to breed. It coaxed something primordial out your brain and you shoved with the last strength of your elbows.

Donnie allowed your torso to drop to the bed and continued to fuck the pyramid of your body. You drearily had a final thought about that being something for gravity’s sake before a flashbang went off as your orgasm. You only imagined his name amongst the white noise and it became palpable only when the scorch of his cum was pumped into you. You were seeded deep, plowed down for safety’s sake, and left for the crops to take in the optimized soil.

You didn’t remember Donnie leaving you because this time he didn’t.

He stayed right there, holding you up and himself in all the way, until he went soft and retracted into his body.

Only then did he animate, longer still after the extra seminal fluid flowed down your leg.

It was pooling on the sheets when he moved away from you only enough to catch your hip.

He immediately kneaded the flesh and revealed that your muscles had locked up. You groaned once for the sharp pain it started with until you became putty in his hands. He molded the clay with a sentimentality that said something about his staked claim. Your body was his and he was taking the necessary care of it.

He eased you into the mattress where your body became a pool. It was a drifting comfort as you kissed him and pulled him in closer so you could doze with him actually there against you to make him equally your own.

-

A scooping arm hoisted your legs up. You allowed the maneuver as you drearily stared at the ceiling. A pillow was set under you and, maybe under any other circumstance, you might have thanked how it wasn’t under your hips. Instead, it was under your ankles and you felt the new angle of your body land in the apex between your hips.

It helped alleviate the cramps that were taxing you there.

It was the next thing Donnie tended to as he gingerly tapped the hands you had folded to apply pressure to your uterus. 

You thought it might be instinctual to protect your womb even if it had betrayed you for a second month in a row.

Your period was heavy enough that you didn’t want to bother with the tests you’d soon take for that supposed ‘just in case’.

No, this was some hellish version of your normal cycle.

You knew this all too well.

Periods fluctuated. 

A heating pad brushed your fingers in hopes you’d allow it to give you some respite.

You barely thought you deserved it but a small spasm had you lifting your palms.

A perfectly weighted and hot thing landed on your lower abdomen and you breathed relief.

Your hands settled atop it to protect that instead.

You’d keep it there.

Gravity would keep it down, but you would add additional pressure. 

Not for thirty minutes, but until you grew numb to the heat and would need a break so you could try once again.

💜 NEXT 💜

You know my betas are bosses! @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[georgefurth]

In Comes Company (and out I go)

Last night, I managed to leave the house and ventured forth to see the north American tour of the genderswapped version of Company here in Chicago.

Company is my favorite musical of all time, and even on my list of favorite plays of all time in general. I am a Company mega fan which is probably something no one should be.

On the marquee outside the theater, they use the phrase "masterpiece" to describe the show, and I think they're right about that.

This production is... Far from that though!

I could go into detail about every element of this show that I do not like, but I've talked in length here about how much I dislike many of the changes and choices, so instead I will simply describe the things that made this an experience that I wouldn't recommend if you're thinking about seeing it.

Simply put, the performances are not good. This production is trying so hard to insert jokes into this show through the use of over-exaggerated slapstick and silly voices, drowning out any of the show's wit and humor. The only thing I can compare this level of over the top wackiness to is like... comedy skits that you'd see on Tik-Tok. (I think that this issue is not the fault of the individual actors, but a problem with the directing fyi)

Music wise, Bobbie's voice was generally weak and Jamie struggled with Getting Married Today. The orchestrations are... Not good and I didn't expect anything great. Ladies who Lunch sounded like it was being sung in front of a midi track.

The book scenes were rushed, never giving the script a moment to breathe, and it felt like they were just trying to get to the next song. This combined with the aforementioned silly voices ruined any serious moment, and stripped away any sense of tension from the show. It felt like there was never anything left unsaid.

The set pieces are uninspired and ugly, the neon lighting feels very pointless and gaudy. It gave me a headache. The use of flashing lights was extremely unnecessary and as they always are, completely unacceptable from an accessibility standpoint.

Ultimately, even if you for some reason greatly enjoyed all the changes to the music and book, this was a generally unpleasant and disappointing experience.

[shitboy96]

I think that the people who dislike Abby solely because she killed Joel are a minority. There is no denying that Joel was a flawed character. Never was Joel portrayed as an innocent character; at his worst, he was downright cruel and was selfish to deny Ellie of what she believed her purpose was in life. Since the announcement of Part II, it was clear that he was living on borrowed time and would reap the consequences of his actions. Ellie is also not an innocent character, illustrated by her actions in Part II. She does things unforgivable and indefensible.

I think that the majority of the hate Abby receives is a product of poor writing, rushed storytelling, and her overall portrayal. Abby starts off at a deficit. She’s a character we don’t know and is introduced as Joel’s sadistic killer. It also doesn’t help that she’s surrounded by an unsympathetic supporting cast who, aside from Mel and to an extent Owen, seem to take pride in what they did to Joel. I don’t think that the story ever affords her a sincere opportunity to crawl out of the hole that Neil Druckmann started her in. Over the course of her story, she takes the inverse route of Ellie in which she is supposed to become a more sympathetic character while Ellie descends to new depths of depravity. On the surface, I think that this is a really compelling idea for a story that at its core is about all facets of love. That said, every moment in which Abby is shown “growing” as a person feels insincere while the attempts the story makes to tear down Ellie portray her as a comically evil villain.

Even the gameplay, which I agree is a lot of fun and really strong, goes out of its way to push a narrative that leaves no room for nuance or deeper discussion. Every enemy Abby encounters is a religious zealot with a hatred of trans kids and dogs. They don’t even speak to each other, instead communicating with whistles. Killing them, it’s hard to feel any sympathy when they’re barely portrayed as human outside of Lev and Yara. Every enemy that Ellie kills cries out for their fallen companions and displays emotion. The game also forces the player as Abby into bonding with Alice, Abby’s canine companion through not one but two fetch mini games. As Ellie however, the player is made to kill Alice in an unavoidable QTE. The inclusion of Alice and the other NPCs dogs feels like the game bashing you over the head saying “Don’t you see? Abby LOVES dogs so she’s GOOD but Ellie KILLS dogs so she’s BAD.” This comes off as not only an extremely simplified take on morality but also vapid and insincere.

Key moments in the story that were supposed to illicit sympathy for Abby failed to do so as well. At the best of times, many felt weak and at the worst, had me rolling my eyes. The scene in which Jerry saves the zebra is the most egregious example that begs the viewer to feel something for them without doing any heavy lifting. It feels like a carbon copy of Joel and Ellie’s scene with the Giraffe from Part I but has far less impact. Again, it’s a cheap depiction of Abby as a friend to animals and is therefore a good person.

After Abby, Lev, and Yara work together to narrowly escape the Seraphites, we start to get a glimmer of Abby’s better side. She’s able to put aside her prejudice and saves two kids who were previously her sworn enemies. That glimmer of goodness is immediately detracted from in the next scene when we get an extended cutscene of her getting railed by her intoxicated, expecting father, (ex?)-lover. We see her knowingly cuck somebody that she calls a friend and at no point in the story does she show any remorse for that. You could argue that this is a small facet in the grand scheme of things and I don’t expect Abby to be a perfect person but at the same time, that doesn’t really garner much sympathy for her.

Abby’s relationship with Lev is one of her strongest points and does the most for her character. She herself is a victim of factionalism and through her relationship with Lev, is able to overcome her biases and ultimately in the final showdown with Ellie, he’s the one that encourages her not to continue the cycle of violence. Even so, it felt rushed to me. While the kids did save her life, she’s able to put aside her long history of learned hatred for the Seraphites and risk her life numerous times over to help them in a matter of days. When next we see duo in Santa Monica, it’s jarring to see Abby joking and jovial when we didn’t get to experience any of that growth with her.

Ellie’s spiral is portrayed in a way that is much more believable than Abby’s growth. Even in some of her worst moments, I still felt more sympathy for her. After her brutal torture of Nora, she returns to Dina clearly shaken. She doesn’t gloat or take pride in any of her actions. Upon discovering that Mel was pregnant, Ellie is overcome with guilt and nearly becomes sick. Contrast this with the final showdown in the theater when Ellie reveals that Dina is pregnant, Abby callously remarks “Good.” While Abby obviously has no way of knowing that Ellie felt remorse for killing Mel and Owen, we as the audience know, so it makes it really difficult to see Abby’s response as anything but cold and uncaring.

In the Santa Monica section, the game makes one final attempt to make Abby come across sympathetically by literally enslaving her and Lev then hanging them up on the beach to die in an agonizing display. This was so over the top and carried a lot of weird connotations. Ellie’s continuation of her quest for revenge in this sequence felt very out of character for both her and Tommy who initially tried to persuade her not to go to Seattle and go down this path in the first place.

For a story about how revenge an unending cycle without any winners, the game ultimately seems to portray Abby as victorious as she sails away with Lev into what is hopefully a brighter future having taken away Ellie’s last connection to Joel: her fingers to play guitar.

I don’t hate Abby because she killed Joel. I hate Abby because I was never given a sincere opportunity to know and see her redeeming qualities. The game so obviously demonizes Ellie while placing Abby on a pedestal. Every attempt made felt insincere and beat the viewers over the head with an agenda, giving them no room to form an opinion for themselves.

What a well written essay? Did you have that prepared lol

I do agree with your takes on Abby’s clumsy and over the top writing. It did work on me and got me to like her but I get that was a bit forced in places.

I don’t know how this could really have been rectified unless the game spent more time being more delicate with Abby’s writing? I feel like writers have this balance between creating a character that’s nuanced and believable in subtle ways but at the same time it has to be big and obvious for the players less able or willing to interpret the smaller things. Maybe they went too far that way with Abby’s character.

[sailtomarina]

Exact Complements, Part 4 (complete)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

cw: implied/referenced sex

He was still snug inside of her, the cocoon of her embrace his focal point. Magical surges still powered through them. She must have felt the same way, a beatific smile stretching from ear to ear and her eyes just as bright as the vibrant blues and purples their bond created. 

Antonin was reminded of the dancing lights of his homeland as their energies arced from their bodies to weave into one another so that he could no longer see where he ended and she began.

“What have you done?” 

The words came out far harsher than he’d intended, though he probably should have been angry at what was obviously the result of careful planning and execution. In reality, he felt as if a weight he’d long borne had been lifted and he could suddenly move freely, each motion as effortless as breathing. 

Her radiance dimmed at the question. “I only did what you yourself wanted.”

He could feel himself beginning to slip out and rolled them to their sides so they still faced one another. He recalled the bundles of dried herbs in her bathroom. “The sage and sweetgrass?”

“The sage and sweetgrass.”

“My mama always said I didn’t respect the old magics enough.” He’d thought them too rudimentary for the wonders that modern magic would create; too weak to actually make any conceivable difference. It was only after she’d passed that he learned how wrong he’d been.

“She sounds like she was a smart woman.”

“She was. Just like you.” He traced runes and circles into her skin. He’d thought the scribbles scattered throughout her home associated with her work, or the product of her unending quest for knowledge. Written in ink on parchment like they had been, always incomplete, they had been powerless. She would have needed a permanent space to replace that which had been lost. “Where?”

She didn’t need the full context of the question to understand what it was he was asking.

“The attic.”

“I have seen your attic. I saw and felt nothing that would explain what you did.”

“You saw what I wanted you to see.”

“Explain.” The more they talked and he showed he was not angry, rather curious, the more she eased back into his arms.

“Do you remember the Room of Hidden Things?”

He nodded.

“That room has another name: the Room of Requirement.”

He mulled over the phrase, rolling the words around until realisation struck. “A room that adjusts to one’s needs.”

“Like a room for practising defence, or filled with chamber pots.”

“Or a room with the largest bed you’ve ever seen.” At her scandalised look, he couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. He’d been an exceedingly horny young man, all too eager to wet his dick in whatever witch was daring enough to challenge him. He’d probably read every single book in the Hogwarts library pertaining to sex and the human body. The discovery of his very own secret room in which to carry out his misadventures hadn’t seemed odd to him back then; it had simply been yet another castle mystery to which he thought himself the only one worthy of finding. “Your attic is the same.”

“Yes.”

“You must show me.” That his witch not only knew of the castle room, but had mimicked its magic, shouldn’t have surprised him. He couldn't help it. She astounded him at each and every turn. 

“Only if you agree to move in.”

He baulked at the idea . It wasn’t that he disliked her cottage; it was perfectly lovely. It was also cluttered, difficult to navigate, completely controlled by her feline guardians, and far too lax in overall security. The attic did not count.

“But I like my cabin.”

“And I like my cottage with its attic you won’t otherwise see.”

He scowled, knowing she’d won this particular battle. 

She took pity on him, her fingers carding through locks of his hair as she added a concession. “We can still keep the cabin for whatever you’d like: visiting friends, a place to study or do research, or a getaway when we don’t want anyone to disturb us.” She emphasised her point by running a leg up his own before hooking it over his hip and pulling him close enough to feel her heated core.

“I like that idea.”

The burst of colour from their bonding had faded by now to a shimmer. Sunlight streaming through the window made it even more difficult to see. What would it look like at night? Would it set the room aglow, putting the stars and moon to shame?

“And what about the idea of forever being tied to a witch who will never be subservient to you?”

Her question dragged him from his daydreams–he’d already come up with several scenes he wanted to enact with her, the night sky as their backdrop. Now came the previously absent ire.

“I hope you do not think me a wizard desirous of such an uneven partnership. I do not want nor need a slave. I want a wife who will be a partner and lover equal to me in every way.” His hand drifted up to settle around her throat, giving it a light squeeze. “I want you exactly as you are.”

Her eyes grew wider with each punctuated word, her lip tucking in as was her habit. He growled and did what he’d imagined earlier, darting his head forward to nibble and soothe over her worries. She looked dazed as he pulled away.

“You really have no problem with any part of me?” She seemed to wrestle internally, brow furrowing and clouds once again beginning to darken her light. “I don’t know if I can have children after…” she trailed off.

His breath caught as understanding dawned. His curse and her miraculous recovery. He hadn’t considered consequences of this nature since nobody else had survived to display any lingering symptoms. “Has that been a problem for you in the past?”

Her nod nearly sent him plummeting into self-flagellation, but she yanked him back just as quickly.

“I wasn't ready then, even if I didn’t know it yet. I don’t even know if I’m ready now.” She paused to suck in air, which she slowly let out before continuing, a noticeable tremor in her voice. “If that is a wish of yours, then that is the one thing I am sorry for. I have as good as chained you to a future without children of your own, a sentence I wouldn’t want to pass on anyone no matter who they are.”

So tender, despite her plotting.

He resolved to cherish this witch and do whatever he could to show her that none of that mattered. 

“Whether we do or do not have children matters not to me as long as we remain at each others’ sides.” The hand at her throat shifted to cup the face dearer to him than any other and bend her forward so he could press doting lips to the crown of her head. 

She shivered at the act, and he pulled her even closer. He could fall asleep just like this, and likely would have if she hadn’t shifted, one knee knocking against his own.

“I hate to say this, but I really need to pee.”

“Blyat! I am an idiot.” He sat up and gestured towards the door in the corner. “Of course you should.”

She slipped away, quietly shutting the door behind her. Antonin wasn’t worried about her trying to run away, not with her wand having rolled under the bed and the invisible bond he could feel stretching between them even over this short space. He knew no amount of distance or time would break the connection except for death; that was how powerful the melding of their magic had been.

He’d heard tales, and had even seen it firsthand between Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, but that she’d taken the steps herself to ensure their inevitability went far beyond his initial expectations. He’d hoped, yes. He’d even thought it possible given enough time for them to get to know one another. He knew he could be charming and that she hadn’t exactly been treated well by aspiring lovers. He was confident that he could seduce her into wanting him just as much as he wanted her.

He was a fool, and now he was her fool.

The door opened. She stood naked within its frame, her eyes already trained on his reawakened erection.

“Would you like to put on another display with me, solnyshka?”

Her teeth flashed just before she launched herself at him, hands pinning down his unresistant limbs beneath her. 

They did not leave his bedroom until late in the day to satisfy the grumbling of their stomachs. The kitchen counter, then the heavy mahogany table he’d imported from Russia, were their detours for a different sort of sustenance. They did, however, make it back to her cottage before nightfall. She had to feed the cats. He, in turn, fed his cock down her throat mere minutes after she showed him into the attic. There were no additional arguments about him moving in, because Antonin couldn’t ever imagine leaving her side, not that she would have let him do otherwise.

1546 WC

Cross-posted on Tumblr, FB, and AO3

Props to Hwaet WeGardena for asking me about the cats, who I had the oversight to completely leave unnamed! Well, no longer. Please meet Sabriel, Lirael, and Clariel, whose names are inspired by characters of the same name in Garth Nix's Abhorsen book series.

For the epilogue-sort of people: they do end up having children. Obviously any magical damage she sustained before didn’t stand a chance to the combination of their raw sexual energy. SCOFF. OF COURSE. I’m thinking…two daughters and one son. The son only comes after Antonin lives several years with the joke that he is forever outnumbered by women. Their last child and son arrives long after they’d expected to have children, but is very well loved and spoiled. The cats somehow survive until all three children grow up and move out, and, even after they’ve passed, Antonin swears he sees their ghosts from time to time scaring away mice and sitting on his face to wake him up.

I like to think they patent numerous spells and potions together as they continue to live humbly in the countryside. They want for nothing but each others’ company, which is perfect because it takes another decade before Hermione is able to clear any remaining charges against him so that he can walk openly within Britain’s borders. Even then, he prefers to stay home unless they travel outside of the country.

[witch-hazels-musings]

a place for the weary 

Convincing the boys to take a break and rest their head on your lap, because they all work so hard and need a comfortable place to just ... be  - plus … some of them just need love and affection (please) 

Includes: Albedo, Diluc, Scaramouche, Kaeya 

Warning -> SFW

Character X GN reader 

Albedo 

He’s busy, always busy - whether he’s working on some research in the labs or out in the field, he’s hardly ever taking a moment to stop. What he finds most relaxing is drawing, painting the scenery in front of him until he gets it all perfect, and while you love to watch how his face twists, his eyes scrunch together as he examines the lines on the page, you also wish he would take a moment to do nothing 

If you suggest the activity to him, he may wonder what could be the purpose of it; he might ask you a lot of questions as he leans down to rest his head on your lap 

“Albedo,” you call out to him as you watch him shuffle through the crates examining the bottles and other items sprawled in the container. He tilts his head to look at you, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a glass contained filled with some sort of liquid. “You’ve been working for so long, come take a rest.” You pat your leg and invite him to join you on the soft blanket you’d laid out some time ago. 

“I’m trying to make sure we have …” 

“I know,” you chuckle, “and it’ll be there for you after you take a quick break.” 

He straightened himself out, his torso stretching and overcorrecting slightly as he elongated out his muscles. The bottle slipped further into his palm as he moved his hand up and down, bouncing it slightly as he contemplated your suggestion. You knew it wasn’t like him to take breaks like this, still, you hoped he would at least this time.

“If it makes you feel more productive, bring your notebook so you can draw.” That seemed much more enticing, you smiled to yourself as you watched him retrieve his journal before falling in place at your side. 

You were always persistent in getting him to take a moment, a small second to stop moving or relax his eyes which only seemed to be tired when he rested against you 

After the first few times, he had tried a couple of different iterations until he found the best position to be the one he was participating in right now. Legs bent so he could prop his drawing notebook or journal onto them; his legs acting as a makeshift easel so he could sketch or paint what was in the background 

He may be inclined to share his thoughts with you, perhaps dominating the conversation as he ponders on rhetorical questions and thoughts that fill his mind, but you don’t care because your hands are busy in his hair anyway 

After finding a comfortable place for his head, the back of his hair pushed itself up as he slid along the edge of your thigh. You shifted so he could have enough space and while he began to work, you could continue reading through your book. These moments you cherished, these simple, peaceful moments that allowed you to be close to him while giving him all the freedom he’d ever shown you. 

Every once in a while you glanced down to his notebook and became transfixed by the way his pencil moved across the page. How each line transitioned from nonsense into a masterful capture of the world stretched out in front of him. It was incredible how his eyes were able to see so much and his hands moved to copy it all down. He didn’t seem to mind the corners of the page fluttering in the wind or how leaves would fall haphazardly around him, resting quietly on his chest or in his hair. 

Your hands instinctively went to retrieve them, your thumb sliding across the bumpy surface and fingers pushing against his soft blonde hair. Letting the leaf meander on its way to the ground, you returned your fingers to his head. The tips ran over his forehead, trailing until they came to rest on his outer ear and carefully you tucked some strands of his hair behind it. You heard him sigh and noticed the quick movements of the pen slow to a near stop, a sign for you to continue. 

Carefully, you returned your bookmark to the page before resting it onto the blanket. Your hands found their way back to his hair and they began to work their way to his scalp. Your nails sliding along, underneath, below, and over each strand as if you were inspecting it all. The soft texture of it, and the reaction of its owner, made the experience all the better. 

After a while, Albedo seemed to pull himself away from the trance you had put him under. A line here, a curve there, his pencil began to move again and the once empty spaces of the paper grew into a beautiful work of art. You too returned to the book you were reading but left one hand against his hair, your fingers moving every once in a while. 

The two of you shared in a moment, uninterrupted, and through the connection, the both of you felt more energized than before. 

Diluc

Relax? What is relax -> Diluc doesn’t know how, when, or what he would even do to relax so getting him to take a break, to have a moment would be a battle to say the least

You’re much more likely to find success if he’s tired, like super tired, tired to the point you see him shaking his head or rubbing his eyes with his fingers - here he is less likely to deny you - here you have more push in your persuasion 

You walked into the study knowing full well what you would find when you pushed open the door. There he was, just as you had imagined him, with his head peering down at documents, his fist balled and pressing against his forehead, his other hand gripping a pen and moving across the papers. 

The light from the midday sun slipped through the window and surrounded him in a beautiful glow; an ethereal being with hair the color of juiciest apples and skin paler than the cups of china stocked in the kitchen below. If Diluc would allow it, you’d have stolen several photos of him while he worked, but he wasn’t fond of pictures. 

You walked up to the desk and noticed that he had barely eaten the lunch the maids had prepared for him, a few bites taken but nothing substantial. He continued his work even as you approached the front desk, moments like these reminded you how much he trusted you. To allow someone to invade his space like this was an unbelievable sign of faith from the ever distrustful Diluc Ragnvindr. 

“Diluc, are you finished with this?” You asked, resting your hand on the edge of the desk and the other grazing the edge of the plate. 

“Mm?” He looked up at you, his eyes fuzzy and tired, you glanced with your eyes toward the plate and he followed their gaze. “Oh, yes. I’m finished.” You gave him a weak smile as your fingers closed around the cold ceramic. His head dropped back to the paperwork and you shook your own. Moving to place the plate on the tray next to the entrance of the study, you quickly returned to him but this time moving to his side. 

“How’s it coming?” You asked him, your hand drifting toward his shoulder and you grinned as his torso shifted to press deeper into your touch. 

“More and more orders are coming in. Seasonal changes always bring business, but it’s difficult to keep the orders together.” 

“Hmm, well I know you’ll get it done, you always figure it out.” You slid your hand along his back and noticed how he stopped the movements of his pen. “Why don’t you take a break?” 

“I’m far too busy for that.” He voiced, pulling himself back and away from you.

You reached for his hand, your fingers sliding over his bare skin. He disliked wearing gloves while he worked like this. “Indulge me?” 

You’ve instructed him to remove his jacket, the heavy fabric would distract from the relaxation you explained would come - he’s a bit hesitant about it, but you’ve asked so nicely how can he possibly say no to you 

He will lay on his back and look away from you in an effort to hide his embarrassment or weakness - as the master of the winery, the owner of this business, the pride of so many resting on his shoulders he always told himself that he has to hold it all together, until the day he realized you were the only thing holding him together

He melts, purely and simply, the ever stoic Diluc finds peace with you 

His head provides a nice pressure on your legs, his shoulders press against your thigh as you help him get comfortable here. He’s so tall that his feet fall off the daybed, but he doesn’t say anything or really move after. One of his arms rests at his sides while the other lay across his stomach, and you can’t help but smile at the tense way his fingers wrap themselves into a comforting fist. 

“I won’t hold you here for long, just try and relax.” You express knowing full well he will have a hard time doing just that. You’ve made sure his hair isn’t tucked underneath him and you admire the way it contrasts with your dark pants. With deft fingers, you undo the ribbon that keeps his hair in place, and as soon as it’s released you begin to fan the strands over your legs. 

Carefully, you run your hands over his hair, pressing lightly as you start at the crown of his head and work your way over the red pool on your lap. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed his fist beginning to relax, the way his long fingers extended across his stomach told you that he was finally committing to your request. From there, you decided to work your way through his hair, your fingers sifting and moving through the mess of wildfire on top of his head. 

Each time you moved to a new, untouched spot he relaxed more. His legs bending slightly, his hands opening up, his expression softening and soon, he began to turn toward you. His head moved, forehead now pressed against your hip, his body shifted just slightly to be closer to you. 

You began to softly hum, the sound of your voice adding to the calming atmosphere of the quiet study and, in a matter of minutes, you could see the steady rise and fall of Diluc’s chest, the inhale and exhale of air as it slipped past his lips and the irregular twitch of his fingers as he slipped off to sleep. 

A maid entered the room shortly after and when she saw the two of you in the back of the study and noticed the smile slightly hidden under your index finger as you indicated to her of the sleeping man on your lap, she bowed and exited the room. 

Scara

Grumpy - the embodiment of grumpy and absolute worst at taking any suggestion, ever. So when you bring this idea up to him, he’s super against it. He doesn’t want to appear, look, seem soft in any way - ‘what is this silly little thing you are asking me to do?’

He’d push the idea away every time you bring it up -- that is until the day your legs look so tantalizing they are practically calling his name. Perhaps it's the way your hands rest in your lap as they hold onto a book, or the light as it hits your legs, or just the sound of your voice as you offer him a place to rest again and again - he finally succumbs 

You’ve been sitting in Scara’s living room for some time now. You learned early on to let him do his own thing and not get in his way, he had made that very clear. Still, you were happy he let you invade his space, that he let you be someone that he tolerated more than most. It definitely ignited your pride to have someone of his stature interested in you. 

Though, the only issue with him was the fact that he was always on the move. He never seemed to be stationary for long, and often would be gone for days or weeks at a time, sometimes with a warning. So, you learned to keep yourself busy and take in every moment you could with him. 

He had been in and out most of the day so you found yourself preoccupied with your things. Reading, working, relaxing, whatever followed the requirements of the day; you just went with the flow. Today held those sentiments very strongly as you got comfortable on the couch, one leg resting underneath you and the other bouncing on the ball of your foot. You had been engrossed in your book for so long, the characters' adventures gripping you and pulling you through every hill and valley they traveled. You were so absorbed in the words that you didn’t notice Scara calling your name, or how he stood in front of you with his hands on his hips. 

Fingers entered your vision and a loud snap sound directly in front of you. You looked up startled and when you saw his face you finally welcomed him. 

“Hey, I didn’t notice you were home.” You show him a kind smile and receive nothing in return. 

“I was calling you.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“What have you been doing all day? Lazing about what it looks like.” He crossed his arms and looked around the room before returning his attention to you. 

“I’m taking a break, you’re welcome to join me.” You added, patting your lap. 

“I’ve already told you I would never do something so childish.” 

You chuckle, slipping your fingers in between the pages of your book. “I know, figured I’d give it another shot. Are you heading back out?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” He replied; conversations were often like this with him, short and to the point and almost always without any real answer. So you returned your attention to your book, the pages calling your name as your eyes scanned down the page before landing back on the sentence from which you had been pulled from. 

You were drawn back into the scene only to be ripped out of it once again. The book in your hand was pushed to the side, your elbow knocking into the arm of the chair and your head snapping to the source of the disturbance. Scara’s face suddenly came into view as his head rested against your lap, his eyes staring at the ceiling and cheeks speckled with the color silk flowers.

He has this response to things that can throw others off so quickly. He’s violent and angry, but he shows these small signs of humanity in his actions, simple, small things every once in a while it reminds you of a small child who isn’t sure what he really wants 

The more he participates in this activity, the more likely he will invade your lap whenever the urge comes over him. He’ll push whatever is in your lap away, if he’s feeling really nice he’ll pick it up and place it elsewhere, otherwise you learn to never hold anything breakable here - he won’t look at you either, his eyes will look away, always, and he expects you to know what he wants, don’t make him beg for anything 

You never once expected him to follow through with your request, not in a million years. So when he settles against your legs, his face right next to your stomach and eyes looking upward at you, you're unsure how to respond. 

“Well, I’m here.” He says, crossing his arms and legs as he waits expectantly for your attention. You’re so taken-aback that you can’t help but burst into laughter. Covering your face with your hand, the sound of your voice spills into the room and makes the harbinger shift against you. “I knew this was stupid …” He huffs and you have to use so much more strength than you anticipated to pull him back. 

“I’m sorry. I just … I never expected … please, don’t go.” You look at him with hopeful eyes and with a sigh he returns his head to your legs. While one of your hands rests against the top of his head, the other works to save your place in your book before resting it on the end table. You don’t even notice that your fingers have started to play with the short locks of his hair until you look back at his face and see his eyes closed. 

You stall, but only long enough for him to slightly open his eyes and look at you, his expression of ‘did I tell you to stop’ speaking volumes. So, you start to work your fingers through his hair, the dark purple strands slip easily through your fingers as you shift them around. Spreading your hands out and pressing the tips of your fingers against his scalp and, as your bravery grows, you move your fingers toward his jaw and along the edge of his hairline. His short hair gives you a great view of his face, and you wonder if this is the first time you’ve ever really had the opportunity to look at him. He’s incredibly handsome, one reason he was able to capture you so easily, and the longer you played with his hair, the further the corner of his mouth moved into a faint smile. You would do almost anything for that smile. 

A soft chuckle sounds from your throat and the calmness of your actions is gone in an instant. His eyes are open and he’s slipped from your lap, his feet connecting to the floor and the warmth of his body dissipating from your legs. You protest, but he’s already halfway across the room and is clearly trying to keep you from looking at his face. 

Kaeya

He is all about this activity - honestly, he’s all about any type of touch you want to offer him and while he has a lot on his plate, he will take these moments to be with you. He doesn’t care either where or around who, he may be partaking in this delectable experience - his mind is filled with you and, when you hold him, touch him, love him, he can think of nothing else 

You hadn’t seen him all day, which wasn’t uncommon when there were new recruits or the knights were preparing for a subjection out in the wilderness, Kaeya was typically busier during these times. So, when there were days he wouldn’t be able to get away, and you knew he would continue to work until everything was done, you would find your way to him and offer him a short reprieve from the duties of his work. 

He was standing in the hallway consumed in a conversation with one of the knights. His usually peppy demeanor seemed faded, his shoulders drooped a bit further, his gestures more muted as spoke with the other party, and overall, he didn’t seem as energetic as he normally was. 

The closer you got, the more attention you drew, and soon Kaeya turned to look at what was drawing the eyes of his speaking partner. 

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.” He perked up when he saw you, the light in his blue eyes flashing, a smile stretching across his face. 

“Hey! I wanted to stop by since I had a moment. Are you free?” You asked him, crossing your hands behind your back and giving the other knight a quick head nod who returned your hello in a similar manner. 

“Of course, I will spare all my time for you.” He closed the distance between the two of you, an arm draping around your shoulder and pulling you close. 

“Captain, we’ve been asked to …” 

“Yes, yes. I’ll get right on it.” He affirmed to the knight before turning all his attention to you and ushering you down the hallway toward his office. 

“Are you sure you are free? If you need me to come ba …” 

“Nonsense, how could I pass up this opportunity. Do not worry your pretty little head.” He laughed, his smile wide and eyes closed. 

“Okay, I won’t keep you long then.” 

“Oh, but I was hoping you’d save me from this boring day.” He laughed and squeezed you closer to his side, even though you could tell he was more tired than usual he was still able to give you so much of his energy.

Kaeya will turn his head toward you, he’ll wrap his hand around your waist because even here he cannot get close enough 

Here, he can breathe you in and be the center of your attention - which is his most favorite thing

What he prefers, what he loves most, is when you touch his face, stroke his cheeks with the back of your fingers or your hands as they slide over him, the way you run your fingers along his brow, his jaw, and across his neck - these actions will give him the chills and it may be the only time you truly see him react in such a way 

When you get settled onto the couch in his office you call him to you. He eagerly takes the space next to you as if it was always meant for him. 

“Lay down, you look exhausted.” You explain, extending your arm around him and waving him to rest in your lap. 

“Hah, are you trying to take advantage of me?” He asks, moving closer to you rather than doing what you asked. 

“If taking advantage of you looks like letting you take a break, then yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing here.” Your laughter fills his ears and he remembers just how much he missed the sound. 

“How can I possibly say no to you?” 

“I know, I’m pretty convincing. Now, come here.” You pull on the sleeve of his arm and he quickly follows your guidance. His head settles onto your thighs, his face as close to your stomach as he can get, and his hands resting against his chest. 

You help him drape his hair over your leg and start working your way through his bangs, sliding your fingers along his forehead. His playful smile slips into a relaxed expression as he takes in the feeling of your touch on his skin. The way you trace your fingers down his cheek, over his nose, across his lips, his jawline, he is beyond happy here. 

“Do you know when you might be able to take a real break?” You ask, running your fingers through the blue strands of his hair, admiring the way it looks as you move them to places they don’t normally rest. 

“It seems there are many days ahead of us. These new recruits are …” He lifted his hands into a shrug before dropping them back onto his chest, “Well, progressing at their own pace we’ll say.” 

“So it’ll be a while.” 

“Perhaps. Don’t fret though, I’ll always make time for you to refill my reserves.” 

“I’ll take on that request.” You look down at him and catch his eyes staring back, he moves his hand to rest against your arm and gives it a tight squeeze before turning his face toward you. His eye closes and even as the conversation dies down, as his breathing becomes slower, and his hand slips down the side of your arm you know he won’t fall asleep. He never falls asleep when you are with him like this, no matter how tired he is he refuses to miss a single moment. 

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

I hate that girl - F.W

Summary: Fred doesn’t really know how to cope. He hates y/n and everyone loves her. But is the feeling truly hate, or something else?

Warnings: Mean Fred, eating, semi-smut it's just oral: male receiving, a little hair pulling and stuff like that :)

A/N: Maybe I'm going to write a PART 2, with the rest of the smut? Idk? What do you guys think? x

Words: 2,1k

It was summer, finally, my favourite season. I sat at the table with my family at the Burrow, enjoying my moms dinner.

“So, y/n is coming tomorrow mom, you remember?” Ron asked while trying to put a big piece of meat in his mouth.

“Of course I remember dear!” Molly smiled.

“Pfffttt ohno” I sighed, making the whole dinner table glare at me.

“Don’t be mean Fred, I really don’t know what’s wrong with you” Ginny said angrily.

What was wrong with me? That girl was wrong.

I hated how my whole family fell for her trap. Like she’s so innocent. They all believed her act. But I knew the truth, I hated the girl. She wasn’t sweet and shy and helpful. I just knew it. She couldn’t be. I didn’t believe it.

I never liked the girl. She visits us every year, being very good friends with... yea, almost every person here.

She was a liar, I saw it in her eyes. The girl was always like: “Molly can I help with the dishes” or “Hey George, I looooveee the new joke product” with her silly sweet voice.

No I didn’t fall for that. She didn’t even say those things to me any more, I've already scared her away. Well, great. That’s great.

“I really don’t understand why you hate her that much Freddie” George sighed when we were back in our bedroom.

"Well and I don't understand why you like her that much Georgie, are you in love with her or something?" I accused him.

"It seems like you are the one in love with her, silly brother" he answered laughing.

What the hell??

"WHAT? For God's sake! Why would you even think that?!" I screamed defensively. George only laughed.

"I give up" he smiled. Leaving me extremely irritated.

Me in love with y/n, like I said, I hate that girl.

*

I almost threw up seeing the girl acting like that.

We were all welcoming her in the living room. She hugged Ginny, then my mum and Ron and... you know how it goes.

Then she hugged George giving him a kiss on the cheek. Urgh disgusting. It was my turn. It was clear she didn't really know what to do. It was pretty awkward.

"Fred" she nodded staring at me full of doubt. She gave me a sad look and I almost fell for it.

I knew my sister was looking at me with eyes full of anger without even looking her way. I couldn't take it any more and just left without saying a word.

"I'm sorry about him" I heard George saying to her. "It's okay" she answered softly.

*

It was quiet at the burrow, everyone was already asleep. I've always been the only person in this house that stays up this late.

I was getting tired so I decided to get ready for bed. Even George had ignored me all evening, I don't get it, why are they this mad? I mean, okay, I wasn't very nice to y/n. But I can do what I want and I can dislike who I want, what do they have to do with it?

So I opened the bathroom door and before I could process what happened, my face was already bright red. Y/n was changing, her, apparently pretty, chest was bare in front of me.

The first thing I did was slap my hand to my face, trying to close my eyes and hide the redness. What the actual fuck, did I just see the girl naked?

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE THIS LATE" I screamed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should've locked the door, I'm sorry" she answered embarrassed.

Okay how could I ever get this image out of my fucking head?! Yes, she did have an impressive body, and...but... BUT NO FRED, NO.

"Stop apologizing all the time, for god's sake, it makes me crazy" I hissed angrily.

She didn't really answer and she ran past me, I didn't even see the look on her face. Maybe that was a good thing, because I knew I may have been a bit too mean this time...

*

"Fuck Fred, keep going" y/n moaned, she looked like a mess and her perfect boobs bounced up and down when she rode me. It was the hottest and the best thing I've ever felt. Moans and grunts left my mouth. "Fuck I'm cumming baby" I grunted.

Suddenly a loud knock on my bedroom door woke me up. Y/n wasn't there any more.

Shit, was this a dream, an actual sex dream? About her?

"FRED WAKE UP IT'S ALREADY 1 PM, WE'RE GOING TO SWIM!" I heard my little sister scream at the door.

I freaked out immediately. I could never face y/n again after this, why did it happen? Why is my brain like this? And then I had a little problem down there too, I had an obvious boner.

"I'm coming Gin wait a minute" I answered nervously.

An hour later, I finally reached the lake that was a mile away from the burrow. The others were already there.

Great, swimming.

The dream was still spinning around in my head. I was so confused and like it couldn't get any worse, they decided to swim. Why today?

This was the worst moment ever to see y/n in her bikini. I saw her from a distance. God she looked hot. Her perfect boobs in the red bikini top, and damn it, that ass...

Bloody hell, STOP IT FRED, I just got rid of my boner, I don't need it to come back again.

"There you are Freddie, finally!" George smiled when he saw me. Damn it.

Y/n looked up too, still smiling at me even though all the mean things I said or did to her. Her hair was in a perfect bun and I could see her red bikini better now. I never really realized how sexy and good she looks until now, until the moment I walked in on her changing this night. Or maybe that was the problem, maybe I always knew, but shut it out?

But what if this was her trap again? The trap everyone fell for except me. I couldn't allow myself to fall for it, I promised myself!

I walked up to them and tried to get out of my confusing thoughts. "I'm sorry I didn't realize I slept for so long" I answered trying to sound okay.

"Guess it's because you were still up pretty late" y/n joked. Her pretty smile appeared and out of nowhere my legs were weak, like jelly.

"Fuck y/n SHUT UP, SHUT THE HELL UP" I snapped out of nowhere. My face went red and the others looked at me in shock.

It was quiet, y/n gaped at me, speechless.

"I.. I-" I tried to apologize when I saw y/n her hurt eyes, but nothing came out. My heart broke when a tear fell down her cheek. Maybe I was wrong about her.

I was the bad person in this story, not her.

She ran away and I heard her sobbing behind me.

It wasn't a trap, she never acted like she was an innocent sweet girl, she really was an innocent sweet girl. It wasn't her trap, it was my own trap, a trap I made up in my own head.

*

I heard sobs coming from her room. I stood behind the door. I promised my siblings I would apologize, because it was true, maybe I was wrong about her.

I opened the door slowly.

"Fred, please go away, you don't have to act like you're sorry because I'm crying. I know you hate me." she sobbed when she saw me.

“N-no, I, I don’t know what’s wrong with me” I stuttered.

She looked confused. Her red eyes really broke my heart. It was my fault.

I sat next to her on the floor and put my hand on her leg. She seemed shocked.

“Why do you hate me?” she whispered.

I sighed. Not really knowing what to answer.

“I don’t hate you, I just had the wrong idea about you y/n, I’m stupid.” I answered.

It was weird, she was still in her bikini and this was so not the right moment, but I felt that bulge in my swimming trunks appear again. I guess it’s because of the dream that was still so damn clear in my head. And of course, the fact that my hand was stroking down her bare leg.

Before I could cover it up, her eyes were already on it. Fuck.

We both didn’t utter a word. It was silent.

“You have a problem down there” she whispered, breaking the silence.

I gulped, trying to not get red.

“Is that why you hate me? You just want to fuck me?” she grinned extremely bold.

I wasn’t really used to being this speechless. But she was right. So, so right. So I just nodded.

Suddenly she was on my lap. My breath hitched in my throat. Her, so perfect, boobs now pressed to my bare chest.

“You make me crazy, I can’t even explain how crazy y/n” I finally said.

Her hands were now stroking my hair. Shit. My tummy tingled. Was George right, am I in love with her?

“So you just decide to be mean Freddie? Ignore me? Hurt me? Why?” she squeaked, searching for a rightful explanation.

“I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what I feel. I’m so confused but I know I was wrong about you now. I’m sorry for hurting you.” I apologized.

“It’s okay Freddie, I understand, we have enough time to find out how we feel” she promised me while lightly stroking my cheek with her small fingers.

A wave of electricity went from my feet to my head. So is this what being in love feels like? I wasn’t sure, maybe it was something else. I’ve never experienced this before. But one thing was sure: my pants got too tight now.

And that’s when I felt her move slowly. She moved the (oh so thin) fabric of her red bikini against my clothed cock. I could feel everything that was underneath and a shock of pleasure went through my whole body.

She kept grinding down on me, a soft whimper left her mouth and a grunt left mine.

I slammed my lips on hers. They moved perfectly in synchrony. They were soft and sweet. It was perfect.

I’ve kissed before, a lot. But this. This was different. The passion was overwhelming.

Her tongue explored my mouth while I helped her hips grind up and down.

She stopped the kiss and her beautiful y/e/c eyes locked with mine. In an instant, she was already on her knees in front of me, pulling down my swimming trunks.

"Can I?" she asked politely. I nodded eagerly.

She kissed my tip gently making me gasp a little. Her beautiful, soft hands stroked down my thigh.

"I'm pretty sure you're finally gonna stop hating me after this" she promised.

"You already succeeded princess" I praised, making her eyes go wider because of the nickname.

She started to kitten lick my tip slowly and my hands were already in her hair, making a ponytail with my hand.

She took my whole cock in her mouth, all at once. A grunt escaped my lips when I felt my tip hit the back of her throat.

"God y/n where did you learn this" I moaned huskily.

A smirk appeared when she started to bob up and down. I tried to control myself but I couldn't resist from pulling on her hair a little, guiding her head up and down. It was clearly something she liked because a moan left her mouth. The oh so sexy sound and vibrations made me grunt loudly. "Fuck baby" I moaned

I tried to hold it in but my hips started to pound a little into her mouth, making her gag on my cock.

"I'm gonna cum" I stuttered. One second later her mouth was already gone. I whined with a frown.

"Now already Freddie?" she smirked.

"Please don't stop, your mouth is amazing y/n" I asked trying to not sound too desperate.

She didn't answer but put her lips back, taking my cock in her mouth again. Now she started to suck fast and harder, making me go completely crazy.

She was so beautiful and so so so sexy. I couldn't hold in any longer. My head fell back and my eyes scrunched shut, a loud moan slipped from my lips when I came. I've never felt this amazing before. It was perfect. Y/n stuck her tongue out, showing me she swallowed all of my cum.

"Good girl" I praised huskily.

"Did it feel good?" she asked. She looked a little insecure now.

I grabbed her hips and placed her on my lap again.

"So good, I think I might be in love with you, and not just because of this moment, but for so many reasons y/n" I admitted.

"You.. you do?" she whispered getting red and shy. But the little smile on her lips said enough

_____

[rayofsunas]

valentine | diluc [1]

A/n: we’re back with the mini-series for a while and this time with Diluc! I decided to start back off with Diluc because I actually had a plot for him lol. btw, requests are back open!! I still have a few more to write, but I’m definitely happy to accumulate more! stay safe everyone and enjoy!!

Summary: the ever so stoic diluc thought he was being secretive when sending anonymous letters and gifts to you during the week of valentine’s day but turns out everyone in mondstadt knew it was him, though thankfully had tight enough lips to not spill the beans to you. kaeya is of no help, so you go seeking answers yourself.

Parings: Diluc/Fem! Reader (for my other mini-series, there will be some gn ones!)

Warnings: valentines (yes, I’m late, shoot me), fluff

Word count: 1.2k

Diluc Ragnvindr’s heart was on fire. Set so badly ablaze that no amount of cryo or hydro could be used to extinguish it. He was one hundred percent sure that even after the red muscle stopped beating, it would still be burning, nowhere near crisping. 

That’s how badly he was smitten. Twitterpated, The Honorary Knight had joked; a word he’d never heard of, assuming it was from her mysterious world. Yes, he was... twitterpated. Lovestruck. So badly in love, he didn’t know what to do nor how to react.

This was a normal emotion, though, at times of inconvenience, the redhead couldn’t help but feel like it should stay foreign, locked away forever only to be unlocked by a key that he'd throw away. His love for you was so strong, that it paralyzed his being, entirely. 

The tug on his heart every time you spoke soft words to him, moved him well beyond admiration. Your thoughtfulness and leadership towards the younger Knights, even when he had an evident grudge against them all, was something he respected. Despite his obvious distrust in the Knights, you were the one difference, an outcast of sorts in that profession. He could get behind you, accept you as a worthy Knight. You were honorable, respectable, strong. He adored you in a way no one saw coming.  

He wanted to tell you. Tell you about the countless amounts of times the mere thought of you had kept him well awake into the night. How every little thing reminded him of you. How he felt the most uncomfortable, yet warmly welcoming tingles all over every inch of him when you spoke. 

But how could he confess his love to you? He was a lone wolf of sorts, Archons, he wasn’t good with words at all. Not anymore. They were harsh, passive, blunt - what woman could love a man like that... He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve happiness. Not in the form of love, not in the form of anything, not from you. His duty was to protect Mondstadt, be the savior everyone so badly needed. But he so badly wanted you and the craving deepened every day. 

So, that’s how he found himself sitting in his office one night, quill and ink in front of him, eyes gliding over a blank piece of paper, thinking of all the words he’d wanted to say. This was the week of Valentine's day, surely this could be the only time that made sense in his mind, where he could confess his feelings for you. 

Despite having a few ideas of what to say, he had no idea where to start. He couldn’t just come out and say I love you, especially since he’d be writing the letter anonymously... That would seem weird, he didn’t want to scare you, freak you out so bad that you rejected his letters and decided to throw them away or burn them. That would surely tear his part into hundreds of pieces. 

Unfortunately enough in this situation, he just happened to be a man of very few words, not used to expressing himself romantically. 

He’d never written a love letter, never once had the words I love you slipped from his tongue. Not unless they were directed towards his mother or father. Sadly, he was unsure they both knew how much he loved and respected them, he’d only said those three little words when they were on their way to heaven... So, he guessed that his aloof behavior towards this all made perfect sense. The young master wasn’t well versed in any type of love language; physical, verbal, or anything in between. The only type of love he’d received and given was paternal and maternal. A different type of love, that was a different type of love than right now.

But Diluc was persistent to spew all his thoughts or else he’d be thinking of you until he was on his deathbed. Eventually, he hoped to reveal himself too, that was preferred. But for right now? He’d stay hidden in the shadows, like the Darknight Hero he was. 

Maybe he was terrified. Scared of your possible rejection, scared to be so open and outgoing, scared to put his feelings on the line only to say the wrong thing and push you away.

Diluc wasn’t scared of many things, no, only a few things had been able to shake him to his core and make him feel utterly weak in the knees from fear.

One, his parents' deaths. Two, you and his love for you...

For once, he wishes he was more like his brother, Kaeya. The Cavalry Captain, outgoing, flirtatious and he could win over any woman or man his heart desired. Diluc had to admit, Kaeya never said the wrong thing unless it was straight idiocy and teasing in nature, that’s where he drew the line and went back to disliking him. But Kaeya was perfect for this... He regretted even thinking this, but maybe seeking his little brothers' help would be best. He didn’t even know where to start or if he would sound like a creep. Archons, he did not want to sound like a creep... Definitely, the last thing he wanted.

So yes, the cryo user was perfect for this. One of the only worries of telling his brother his concerns and need of assistance was the fact that the Captain was unpredictable. Kaeya could be loose-lipped when he wanted and tight-lipped when the situation called for it. He truly was the only two-faced man Diluc had ever come across in his entire twenty-two years of living, that embodied that title proudly, without shame. 

But then he truly thought this through... No. It’d be best not to do that, for at least right now. He’d wait a while until he felt utterly trapped and cornered. Then he would seek... guidance. 

The remainder of the night, the pyro user wrote countless letters, had gone through a sizable amount of ink and paper, and his quill was starting to wear thin. But eventually, he settled on a final product. He was the unsurest he’s ever felt, as he cringed at the letter, folded and sealed it tightly. A hue of red and pinks highlighted his cheeks, brighter than any star in the sky.

Archons, why was he tormenting himself like this... Why.

letter one.

I know this may seem odd, coming from a stranger. But I can assure you I am not a creep of any kind. I can’t help but say, I admire your skills in battle; you’re a force to be reckoned with. Please accept these Cecilia’s, I hope they aren’t too much nor are you allergic.

Best wishes.

Now that he thinks of it, he kind of sounded like he was writing to a business partner, maybe even a Knight honorable of recognition... No, he sounded like a child. Goodness, he’d have to work on expressing himself better. Surely, this wouldn’t capture your heart, no. This would completely friendzone him even more!

Unfortunately, though, it was only then that the letter had already been sent off by his falcon, that he realized that by being anonymous, you would have no way to write a reply to him, and if you somehow did, he’d have no way of retrieving it without revealing himself.  

Archons, he was an idiot.

A lovesick idiot.

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree , @whatishappinesswhatislove , @rrintarou , @sorenthousand , @cvsmix​ ,

3.3.21, rayofsunas

[a---fire---inside]

Hi, as s suporter of Ukrain and a metamoro fan, I'd like to know what happened that made you so angry at them? You mentioned fab 24th? I don't understand Italian and haven't been following them closely lately, so I'm a bit out of data.

Hi! My rant wasn't clear actually, so I'll explain you. Sorry if I'll be long btw.

First of all I was disappointed by both Meta and Moro's musical and generally professional choices in the last 2 years, especially Fab cause the last Ermal thing I liked was No Satisfaction, after which I stopped following him.

As for Fab I told myself that it was my personal taste, since I am a fan of rock and not of very melodic voice+guitar only songs, so I disliked his love songs album but told myself it made sense for him to release again songs the public didn't pay attention to when he was less famous, after all I'd do the same with my fanfictions lol. I also disliked his acoustic tour because after covid there were a lot of protests from concert workers who were left out by economic help from the state, and making an acoustic tour meant not employing many workers, which imo sounded stingy, which, for an artist who so far had respected work so much, was disappointing. I didn't like his Sanremo song very much either, but I was ok with it cause he was hot and I could connect it to my fanfictions/headcanons lol (not to anything real, let's specify this just in case) and I was disappointed by his 'album' cause the songs were average, boring and even the rock ones felt weak, like technically the production was not as powerful as in the past. I didn't particularly care for his movie Ghiaccio because I don't watch realistic movies, so I decided to not pay attention to the fact that the producer was the daughter of one of Berlusconi's collaborators and Salvini's girlfriend (idk if you know anything about Italian politics but Fab used to speak against Berlusconi, a bad guy, and Salvini is a bad guy too), telling myself that he wanted his movie to exist so he accepted the compromise to have it done because maybe the leftist producers who usually promote movies weren't interested in him.

But all this was until February 23rd.

On February 24th ruzzia invaded Ukraine, this changed my whole perspective on everything. I informed myself about it, I followed Ukrainian channels/accounts, I listened to what my girlfriend, who knows more about ruzzia because she's from a post-soviet union country too, and I learned how badly ruzzia propaganda worked in Italy since forever, how my perception of it was affected, because since school we are taught that soviet union was a good thing where magically neighbouring country just joined (not like they were conquered by force and their ppl were killed, deported and so on), as opposing to the USA that just creates wars in random countries.

It was and it is a painful process to unlearn what I took as a fact, and it's painful when I see that my country keeps spreading ruzzian propaganda in different ways because those bastards promote different versions for different kinds of ppl, so we have only a few group that actively supports ruzzia and putin, but we have many who blame NATO saying that ruzzia was provoked by it and the USA, and many who are 'pacifists' and want the war to end in an abstract way, never blaming ruzzia but instead indirectly saying that Ukraine should surrender and give them their territories.

Sorry for digressing, I really am very opinionated about Ukraine cause I suffer very much because of the injustice and pain that it's happening to those people who imo they are being betrayed twice, also by these wrong bullshit opinions.

So when the war started I started also looking for the opinion of celebrities I cared about and I was disappointed by the lack of strong reactions. A few Italian artists did some charity concert or some initiative to help refugees, one female I liked mentioned 'a dictator' doing bad things, but like what dictator? where? It's not like there is only one, and why tf you don't say his name? Others were generally sorry for refugees but never saying what horror they were escaping from.

Ermal wrote a vague post about how bad it is that in 2022 in Europe there is a war...like. he didn't mention who invaded who, he didn't say who was the aggressor and who the victim, and this is very bad. It makes 'the war' look like something both countries wanted, it makes it abstract especially not mentioning the names of the countries. It makes ruzzia less responsible for its terrorist actions.

Fab didn't say anything. He was invited as a guest to Mara Venier's show I think in March or smth, and he sang NOn Mi Avete Fatto Niente and on the screen behind him there were images of a child refugee singing, the presenter (Mara) was moved and he was kinda moved too but he didn't say a single word about it, let alone mentioning who was the enemy. And he posted an instagram story with an image of the world map, particularly of ruzzia and USA territories between the Bering Strait...I saw that image reposted by others, the meaning was that ruzzia and the USA should fight in their own territories, there, instead of involving a third country. Imo this means he believes the war was provoked by NATO...which is fake and also it dehumanizes Ukrainians protecting their country and fighting for their freedom, and for me someone who sang about 'libero', about freedom, someone who used to fight for human rights, should be 100% supporting Ukraine.

In June there was a Metamoro reunion and it was very beautiful, their interaction was cute and I kinda put all my negative feelings aside because I'm a fan, after all, and we had new content after ages. They sang NMAFN again, and wow it would have been the perfect time to say some f*cking words of support for Ukraine. At least. Because they could have done some fundraising. Or told ppl to donate, not necessarily to the Ukrainian Army but to help refugees, children, animals even. There is so much to do for help...but nothing. And every time something horrible happens I open their accounts to see if they said something about it...still nothing.

And it's not like their song was about love or whatever. It was against terrorism...and what ruzzia is doing in Ukraine every single day is terrorism. For me it's offensive that they didn't say anything. It's offensive that artists who sang in Eurovision a song against terrorist, moving the whole Europe, are silent about the horrors happening in Ukraine. It's shameful actually, for me, an Italian.

Because not saying anything means not helping Ukraine and helping ruzzia indirectly. ("In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends" Martin Luther King)

Also, they donated the copyright of their song to Emergency, the NGO, because back then they wanted to help ppl in need, I remember an interview where Ermal said that Fab was so passionate about it that he wanted to do something much earlier than in September 2018 when they had the concert in Trento and did this donation. So wow, what changed now that Ukraine is so unimportant? Is it connected to the fact that Emergency itself, like Red Cross and Amnesty International, is supporting indirectly ruzzia instead of Ukraine?

(Emergency asked Italy to stop sending weapons to Ukraine 'to achieve peace'...not considering that if Ukraine stops fighting Ukraine will stop existing. It's ruzzia that, if it stops fighting, will make peace possible. Or considering this, and manipulating public opinion in ruzzian propaganda style)

I am not a fan of Maneskin but they were clear on where they stand. They said Fuck putin more times, they made a song (Gasoline) against him and gave the money to Ukraine. And I wish Fab did the same. Also because we have a very big Ukrainian community in Italy. They are our neighbours, our coworkers, our classmates. They are fans of Metamoro, or Ermal, of Fab. They are part of our country so if they suffer we should suffer for them. I do. And I thought a sensitive person like Fab would have too.I thought he (and Ermal) maybe does help Ukraine privately with donations like we do, but you know how it works with celebrities, they donate and move fans to donate too. It's like after they donated the NMAFN copyright to Emergency in Trento a group of Metamoro fans donated money to them the same day. It's good example.

A lot of US singers did the same. Metallica, Dropkick Murphys, Gogol Bordello (they're Ukrainian-Americans like the actress Mila Kunis but ok)...so I felt bad because why some musicians know what is the right side and some don't? And I felt ashamed because it's musicians from my same country, musicians I thought were clever, sensitive, not just like meta and moro but also like Max Gazzé, Daniele Silvestri...all ppl who are openly leftists, and not leftists from the current party (which supports Ukraine) but leftists from 80s and 90s communist party, which was heavily influenced by ruzzian propaganda. The same propaganda I was fed in school. And I vote left parties ofc, because ofc, but I am careful of who I vote, especially these elections, I was careful to not vote parties which were against sending weapons to Ukraine. I also convinced my mother, a leftist from old times communist party, that this NATO bullshit is bullshit, I didn't stop until she was convinced, because we must fight against ruzzian propaganda and make ppl understand the truth. Our grandparents fought in the Resistance against german occupiers, we should support Ukraine whoich is doing the same.

So now in december there will be a Fab concert in Rome and I wanted to go, with my girlfriend, whom I met in the metamoro fandom and with whom we went to Fab's concert in 2019...it would have been a kind of anniversary celebration. BUT I can't. I can't give my money to someone whose ethical choices I disagree with.

So you know what I'll do with the 35 euros of the ticket I would have bought? I'll use them for Ukraine. It's not much but still. I can donate them to the Ukrainian Army or humanitarian aid (same link) in case I feel against weapons (spoiler: I am not when it's for defending the country). I can donate them to buy an army of drones to counter iran shitty drones that are destroying civilian buildings and targeting ppl in the streets. I can donate them to uanimals.org, they save and feed Ukrainian animals, because animals are silent victims of war too.

Or with basically the same money I can look into this wishlist where I can buy, among other things, thermal intimate clothes for Ukrainian soldiers, because winter is coming and it's going to be very cold for them.

And if I have to decide who is more important between #1an Italian singer who sings about freedom and human rights and good things but but who for some reason is being silent on a GENOCIDE that is happening right now by the bloody hands of ruzzia, and #2a random soldier who's fighting to protect his freedom and his people's from an evil imperialistic country, I choose #2. Always.

***

(on a different note, I keep on posting some photos I might like of Fab. And I keep on revising my fanfictions and sharing headcanons with my girlfriend about metamoro. Because that's not about the real them! It's all related to my headcanons. Now I can proudly say it, it's FANON! I don't care about their real lives because we don't share the same ethics! lol this fanon thing finally becomes useful to me)

[karmaischerryred]

🍒 NSFW 18+

🍒 Dazai Osamu from Bungou Stray Dogs

🍒 x Fem Reader

🍒 A/N: Hello! This would be my first time posting my work here. I create fan fiction on a different website but I'm linking all my R-rated chapters or one-shots here; also for y'all to enjoy, to whoever finds this.

🍒 Background:

The story I published on the other website is a book of Fem Reader x Dazai One Shots of them doing ordinary (and sometimes not-so-ordinary) things a couple would do. It's kind of parallel to the events happening in BSD, but they're not in chronological order. Every six short stories, I'll be uploading an NSFW 18+ one, and this is the first. Reader's character is consistent all throughout the stories.

🍒 My inbox is always open for suggestions, though I can't promise fast productivity because I have classes :) Enjoy! xx

Y/n took another sip from her wine.

She grimaced as she swallowed the warm liquor, disliking the smell. Normally, she'd prefer champagne over this, but she had associated the sparkling drink with parties and celebration.

And nothing was worth celebrating about tonight.

Under the dark blue glow, Y/n sat on the couch overlooking Yokohama's city skyline. The clock reading almost forty-five minutes past midnight.

She pulled her silk robe tighter to her body. Even with the air-condition off, the breeze at an hour like this still managed to make her chilly. The alcohol was only doing so little to heat up her insides, and her uneasiness wasn't helping either.

Dazai had left her a message earlier that afternoon that he'd be home late. And that could only mean the agency had assigned him a job that so much required his ability; a job that was most likely dangerous.

Y/n trusted in his ability, and himself even without them. But she still couldn't help but worry about him at times like these. She didn't want to see him suffer terrible injuries, or at worst, actually die.

A sudden clicking from the door lock fortunately snapped her out of her building worries.

"You're awake."

Y/n placed her wine glass on the small side table, not turning to look at him. Instead, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back on top of the sofa's backrest, letting out a sigh of relief. "You know I choose to wait for you to come home."

Dazai walked towards her. "Ah, I wish you wouldn't. I would always come home to you no matter what."

She felt Dazai's arms rest on both sides near her head. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by her smiling boyfriend. His eyes glinted in reflection of the city lights right outside the big floor to ceiling windows in front of them. He looked extremely handsome under the teasing of the darkness.

How did she get so lucky?

He kissed her forehead, taking the time to inhale her scent, before making his way to lay on her lap. "Seriously, you should rest. I'll be busy often so you can't keep tiring yourself."

Y/n stroked his dark, perfect hair. "What was the task tonight?"

Dazai unconsciously drew circles on her thighs, the tip of his cold fingertips leaving goosebump on Y/n's already freezing skin. "Just had to er, capture a weretiger."

"The tiger that's been on the news?"

"That's the one."

"Why did they send you after it?"

"Him," he corrected. "The weretiger's an orphan's ability even he didn't know about. Poor boy scared everyone away at the orphanage, even himself."

Y/n let him continue. He might not proudly announce or show it, but she knew that he was growing to love his work.

The side that saves people.

He sat up and stretched. "Not even a scratch on me. Okay, Y/n? There's nothing to worry about."

She hugged him by the neck and kissed him right on his jawline, the most convenient place to land a kiss considering their height difference.

"Wait." He chuckled, standing up and pulling Y/n with him. "The job was done in a warehouse, I should probably clean up."

"All right." Y/n yawned and walked towards their bedroom. "I'll head in first while you go take a shower, you do smell like dust."

Y/n hung her robe by the door before sinking to relax on her side of the bed. She was grateful Dazai had been coming home more often recently. He'd sometimes choose to stay in the agency's dorm when there was too much work or when he felt like he was being closely observed by an enemy of some sort.

She closed her eyes, still trying to keep herself awake until Dazai joins her.

The door to the room swung open and she could hear his footsteps drawing closer. Dazai likewise found himself under the cool, white sheets and spooned Y/n, kissing her on the cheek while doing so.

"Y/n, you're hot."

"Thanks," Y/n mumbled sleepily.

He smirked. "Of course you are, but I meant your body temperature, kitten. Are you sick?"

She shook her head. "I maybe had too much to drink."

"You didn't have work to take home?"

"I drank while working until you arrived," she admitted. "It helps keep myself in check."

Dazai sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you not to brood so much."

Before Y/n could answer, she felt him lightly kiss her neck, his breath teasing the shell of her ear— her weakness.

"D- Dazai," y/n warned, doing her best to suppress a moan. "Aren't you tired from the job?"

She tried to control her breathing as she felt him go hard against her butt.

"I'm not tired," he assured, pulling her closer to him by the arm as his lips continued to plant soft kisses on her neck. "Turn around."

Y/n was sure her cheeks were flustered red by now. Good thing it was a little dark, with only the glow coming from outside the windows as their source of light. She turned to face him, now laying face to face.

He cupped her face with both hands. "You're too cute when you worry, but I'm sure you stress yourself enough at your internship."

She closed her hand around one of his and kissed it by the palm. "I don't mind. I want to wait for you."

Dazai smirked. "Then we must do something to relieve that stress, no?"

"W-Wha—? Dazai!"

In one swift movement, Dazai was on top of her, pinning her down with both hands at the side of her head.

"You're always so stubborn, Y/n." Dazai's lips hovered above hers. "But it's my turn now."

His lips pushed hard against hers, Y/n struggling to suppress a smile. Dazai rarely asked for them to do 'it' and like today, he'd usually find a way to pin the need on her benefit.

"You're playing hard to get, huh?" He kissed the area between her breasts, his hand finding its way underneath her tank top.

"Why can't you ask for this like a normal person?" Y/n moaned as he continued to play with her breasts.

He hummed in amusement, now tracing a finger from her nipple down to the hem of her pajama shorts. "Because I'm not a normal person, love."

Y/n held her breath as Dazai's fingers circled around her clit.

"So I'm going to make you ask for it." He kissed her on the forehead and pushed a finger inside her without warning.

On instinct, Y/n gasped and closed her eyes at the sensation. He was too good with his hands that even though she wasn't an ability user, she could suddenly almost understand how it would feel like to be nullified by his touch.

"No." He grabbed her gently by the jaw with his free hand, making her open her eyes. "Look at me."

"Dazai..." was all Y/n could muster through her moans as he continued to flick his finger from inside, and that's only one. She barely held his gaze as her own eyes would threaten to retreat at the back of her head.

"Yes?" He stopped abruptly.

Before she could stop herself, Y/n screamed out, "No!" And immediately avoided his gaze.

Ugh.

"You were saying something?" Dazai started again, now going for slow thrusts with the same finger. It was sliding in and out easily now that her body had given in to him, betraying her mind.

"Now that you started it," she seethed. "Please."

Even though he was still climbing back to the quicker tempo he had earlier, Y/n squeezed his free left wrist, signaling to him that she was close.

Dazai's love for control flashed over his dark orbs, he loved it even more when it involved applying it to Y/n in bed. "Please, what?"

He pushed another finger inside her, his other hand teasing Y/n's bottom lip before inserting two twin fingers into her mouth.

Y/n sucked on them to conceal her moans. She was reaching a different kind of high compared to how close she was a few seconds ago.

"F-Fuck—" Y/n struggled to talk now that her breathing has quickened, mimicking the pace of Dazai's fingers, while also still trying her best not to break their gaze.

Her body went rigid as she clenched around him, her fluids slipping past his fingers and onto the bed sheets.

Dazai took his fingers out of her mouth and covered it to muffle what was almost a scream from her, while his other hand continued to work their magic from below. His weight now slightly pinned half of her body down as she squirmed, overcoming her orgasm.

Once she was done, he retrieved his fingers and stretched them out with a smirk on his face, admiring the fluid dripping from them. "Can you talk properly now?"

Tears were forming at the corners of Y/n's eyes. She was already too sensitive down there, but she wanted more of him.

It could only get better than this.

"Please," she said with a shaky breath. "Fuck me."

"I love seeing you helpless like this." Dazai pulled out his member and stroked the tip with the wetness from his fingers. "Your wish is my command."

He grabbed a pillow and placed it underneath her butt to elevate the lower part her body, since she was smaller and shorter than he was.

They kissed again as he thrust inside, slowly but hard.

Y/n gasped into his mouth but he was quick to claim it again. His elbows resting at her sides, barely pulling out of her as he continued to stroke deeper and deeper into her insides.

She grabbed his hair as they continued to make out, fortunately stifling their moans for their neighbors not to hear. Every stroke made her eyes water up more as she reached for her second orgasm.

"Dazai," Y/n whispered in between kisses. "Faster."

He pulled away and grinned.

"Good girl." He pressed his lips on hers before rising to support his weight with his hands. "Safe word if it hurts, okay?"

Y/n nodded as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. She tried to grab at the pillow underneath her head, but Dazai reached for her hand and held on to it instead.

No sound came out of her mouth as she struggled to regain proper breathing, even though she was very near screaming her brains out. Dazai, too, was close to reaching his peak with his own moans muffled on to his shoulder.

She couldn't feel anything else with the rest of her body except for the part that's being pleasured greatly down there. She was so wet she could hear the sound liquid with every stroke, together with the sound of skin slapping against each other.

She squeezed his hand to signal him again. "Dazai, fuck!"

"Me too," he said, focused. "Fuck, I love it when you're loud."

"Cum in me."

"What?" He started to thrust rougher at the same fast-paced jolts. It was starting to hurt but it turned her on even more.

And he knew this. He brought a hand up to her clit and started rubbing them.

"It's safe today," Y/n tried to catch her breath. She was dangerously close now that Dazai had done his final trick.

Her back arched as she arrived at her second orgasm, a bit more intense than the first one. She could feel Dazai empty himself into her, his jaw clenched as he slowed down.

He collapsed into her arms, whimpering in satisfaction. "You feel so good, Y/n."

She was too breathless to speak, her legs were shaking and she was throbbing down there. Y/n was in ecstasy, but the exhaustion came crashing down quickly to her.

"I'll go get you water." Dazai stood up and took a box of tissues from the dresser to clean his member off before tucking it back inside his boxers. He then left the room.

He came back with a glass of water, and assisted Y/n to sit up.

She took the glass gratefully and began chugging down the water. She then placed the glass on the bedside table once she was done, trying to get her breathing right.

Both of them shared a smile as Dazai tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You know I fucking love you, right?"

Y/n nodded. "And you love fucking me."

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 11 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage, an unholy amount of fluff

Word count: 2.5k

A/n: This chapter is written partially from Tom’s POV and the reader will be addressed in third person. The POV shift starts in the second half, after the divider, just so you know :)

Part 11 - The Earth’s Centre

Starting to brew the antidote for Mors Grano happened to be easier than you had anticipated. The potion’s base was quite similar to any other healing draught, and so was its production. You had decided to begin the laborious process, even though the Banshee tears were missing. According to the recipe, they were the last ingredient to be added, so you still had a lot of time to find them, even if you still didn’t quite know how.

For the first few weeks, there was nothing more to do than letting the Moondew cook and stir it frequently. The cauldron stood in Tom’s room, its content simmering steadily, ready to be examined at any given moment by one of you. 

Professor Beery had denied you the bonus points for the N.E.W.T.s after you had told him that the Moly had unfortunately died. Those points were the least of your problems, however.

The plant had, in fact, bloomed beautifully, ready to be added to the potion.

And that was when the difficulties began. As soon as you let the blossoms fall into the cauldron, the potion started to smell. Very strongly. The mixture reacted in a way that wasn’t described in the book and started to produce yellow steam, as well as a sour, headache-inducing scent, which reached beyond the walls of Tom’s room. The fume filled up every last inch of his dorm and even seemed to creep out into the Slytherin common room. Other students had started mentioning the weird smell and even Dippet, who had paid Tom a number of unfortunate surprise visits, started to get suspicious.

You had sent your parents an owl to inform them that you wouldn’t come home during your semester break. They weren’t exactly happy about it; you had never stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays after all. But you had insisted, telling them there was so much studying to do until they finally let go. That wasn’t even a lie. There was a bunch of work to do. Granted, not all of it was related to school, but you still had a lot on your plate. 

Tom stayed in Hogwarts for the week as well. You weren’t sure but highly doubted that he had notified his own family about it. And to be fair, they wouldn’t really care about that, would they?

Even though the school was practically empty and only a mere fraction of students stayed along with you, those who did stay complained about the biting smell in all of Slytherin’s dormitories. On Sunday evening you heard that the housekeeper had been sent to seek out the source and Tom was informed that Mr Carpe would start his search the next morning.

So there you were, worrying about what to do, stirring the cauldron for the twentieth time within the last minutes, hoping it would steam less, the more you whisked through it. No matter how hard you concentrated, how many options you took into account, there was nowhere you could possibly drag the cauldron to, where its scent would go unnoticed. 

The Potions classroom was off-limits, even though it was much better equipped for the fumes. Slughorn would spend a lot of his time there, to prepare tasks for the upcoming semester. You had even considered taking it home and telling your parents about it. But using the Floo-Network with an item this heavy wasn’t possible, and taking the train with a simmering cauldron seemed ridiculous. Besides that, the antidote still took months to finish, so you would have to take it back to Hogwarts a week later anyway.

Hell, you had even thought about taking that damned kettle out onto the Quidditch pitch or into the forest, so no one would smell it anymore. But you couldn’t leave it out in the open, of course.

The moment you had given up all hope and realised that you couldn’t go on brewing the potion in Tom’s room, or anywhere else, he had told you about another possibility. There was this room on the seventh floor he had discovered in fifth grade. He called it the Come and Go Room and he was positive that no one besides him, not even the teachers, knew of its existence. The room must have been enchanted, according to Tom, and only appeared when you were in dire need.

So the two of you went there the same night, in a cloak and dagger operation, levitating the cauldron behind you. You had covered it with a white sheet so that if someone saw you, they at least wouldn’t know initially what you were doing. The disguise was weak and you knew if Dippet or any other teacher would spot you, you would be screwed.

Luckily none of them was there when you rushed through the halls, aside from Warren O’Connor, a Ravenclaw fifth year, who patrolled on a corridor next to their tower. He was too far away to detect the poorly hidden cauldron and didn’t even seem to look at you after he had recognised Tom. 

When you had finally arrived, chest heaving, thoughts rushing from relief and tension, Tom instructed you how to summon the Come and Go Room. You walked past the stone wall three times and imagined, very carefully, what you needed. An airtight room that allowed you to keep on brewing your potion in peace, that no one would be able to find unless you wanted them to. Suddenly, a door appeared. You looked at Tom and he nodded before you took the handle and opened it.

The small room behind the door was, simply put, perfect. Your very own Potions laboratory. Dark and nifty, it offered enough little cabinets to store all the ingredients for the antidote, as well as a worktop to put the cauldron on. Everything looked as if it had been custom made, just for this purpose. Which it was, you had just created it all yourself. 

Now that the cauldron was in a safe place Tom felt more at ease and actually thought that the semester break could turn out to be enjoyable. Why did that relax him, though? A question he had asked himself more than once. He didn’t have to care, nor did he have to help his fiancée to save her sister. Then why had he done it? 

He didn’t have a logical answer to that question, even though the illogical one seemed to wave at him from the back of his head. He shrugged it off. But there were so many questions of the same kind running through his mind. Why did he care? He had never cared before. For anyone. That girl wouldn’t bring him where he wanted to be just by marrying him. Sure, her family was respected. Of course, they were purebloods, which was why his Grandfather had taken notice of them. But it had never been Tom’s wish to marry her. So why didn’t he mind the thought anymore? The idea of seeing her walking down the aisle had repelled him immensely when he had found out what Marvolo’s plan had been. And now it didn’t. He had gotten used to the idea. It even bugged him to think about the fact that the marriage wouldn’t happen by chance if the antidote was finished soon enough. Then why did he help her?

There was something inside of him, something that he couldn’t just pinpoint yet. Something that made him do the things he had done, even when it had gone against his own benefit. Something that made him care less and less about himself. It must have turned all of his morals upside down, because somehow, and he couldn’t explain why, the most important thing was seeing her happy. He didn’t even know when his priorities had changed. When he had stopped putting himself first. But it had happened. And that irritated him beyond belief.

She had been so easy to dislike. Back then, when they were sitting in her dining room alone. When she had stared at him, eagerly waiting for him to feel sorry for her. So conceited. Desperate for his attention. But then again, she had been so easy to like. When had he started giving in? At first, he had been nothing more than disgusted. Appalled of the uproar that had gone on inside his head. That nasty feeling in his chest and his weak knees. But once he had surrendered, it had begun to feel good.

All he wanted - no - all he needed now, was to make sure she was safe. Protect her. Help her. That wasn’t just an act of kindness though. He had figured out that apparently, he mirrored her emotions. When she was pleased, he was too. When she was angry, he couldn’t help but feel furious as well. When she was sad, his chest stung with her. It felt like a purpose. Like she was the earth’s centre and everyone else, even himself, merely spun around her. She had his full attention now and he didn’t plan on taking it from her anytime soon. 

If someone were to ask him why, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. How does one describe the meaning of everything? He could start with her glow. That devotion she seemed to radiate anywhere she was. Her relentless spirit and how ready she was to combat anyone with it. How tender she was with people that deserved it. And how ruthless she could be with the ones who didn’t. The way she moved in her sleep, slowly and gently, turning over and unknowingly stealing his blanket at least twice a night. The way her chest moved up and down when she lay next to him. How her eyes seemed to light up when she awoke and looked at him. The hours he had watched her. Held her. Felt her skin brushing against his own, just like in this moment. How could anyone experience that and not have the urge to keep it? To freeze those moments in time and lock them up, safely, for nobody to see. 

Tom wasn’t sure if she was aware of how nervous she made him. He knew how to hide it, but was ever so annoyed at how much he depended on being close to her. And he usually wasn’t the one to become jittery. That was the response he normally got. Freda Morris, for example, couldn’t seem to think straight when he had taken her out once, during their sixth year. Merlin’s beard, that lass was nerve wrenching. 

Quite contrary to her. No one had ever done that to him. She had crawled under his skin and into his head, drugging his mind until almost every single thought he produced revolved around her. But he knew his place. She hadn’t befuddled him just to make him her pawn. He knew because that was what his family had done ever since he could remember. She had never done him wrong. Maybe that was why he had helped her. And why he was willing to do anything for her, even if it meant for him to suffer. He was the antagonist in their story. And if he was poison, she was the remedy. If he was the villain, she was the treasure worth saving. 

Tom’s pitiful monologue was interrupted when she woke up, opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Morning,” she said quietly and smiled.

He looked at her for a moment. If only she knew. 

“Morning,” he replied.

She stretched her arms in the air and yawned, then turned towards him and ran her fingers along his jawline. Bliss.

“How long have you been awake?” she asked, staring at the stubble on his chin that her thumb had just touched.

“Not long,” he lied. “Just a few minutes.”

She grinned and placed a kiss onto the left end of his lips. “I have to get up and stir the potion. Care to join me?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“Good. Oh, and I think I’m going to go to Diagon Alley in the afternoon. To buy the Foxgloves. I have to add them next week.”

“I’ll come.”

She exhaled and pulled him in, nuzzling into his neck. 

“Do you think we should go to Knockturn Alley as well?” she asked, her voice muffled. “While we’re there. I want to see if any store offers Banshee tears.”

“I don’t think they do,” Tom said and she lifted her head to look at him.

“But where else then?”

“I think I know where we could get some.”

She nodded, urging him to tell her.

“Well, I’m sure Morfin owns a flask. He had to get it if he wanted to brew the antidote, didn’t he?”

“But if they never planned on curing Elsie entirely, I don’t think he would have gotten them.”

“Marvolo never planned on curing her,” Tom said. “Morfin did. He’s a Potions master. One that doesn’t care about legality. He knows every last person that deals with ingredients like that. Even if he never intended to free her, I’m sure he got them just in case he ever needed them for himself.”

Her eyes roamed his face while she thought about it. “So what can we do now? Go to your house, search his chamber and steal the flask?”

Tom shook his head. “That won’t be as easy. They’re always home, Marvolo has his eyes everywhere. Even the house-elves would alarm him.”

She frowned, brows furrowed while she lightly tugged on his hair.

“They’ll be gone,” Tom went on. “In late March. The Order of Merlin gets honoured and they are both invited. We could go then and try to find it.”

There it was again. That spark in her eyes. 

“Okay,” she answered. “Let’s do it then. But for now, let’s stay in bed for five more minutes.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[firelxdykatara]

What do you think of Nicasia?

I think she’s a lot more understandable after meeting her mother, lmao.

That said, I fucking cackled so hard I fell out of my chair when Kaye decked her.

Nicasia is interesting because she’s like... very much a product of Faerie. I mean, they all are, but she’s from an entirely different kingdom, and we learn in the course of the back half of TWK that her mother conquered the Sea in a way that no one Faerie monarch on land had managed. Even though the High King can get a lot of the lower seelie and unseelie courts to swear fealty, it’s something of a fickle alliance and, for the most part, only particularly useful in a time of war--the High King and Queen don’t directly oversee the other courts, for example, and pretty much stick to Elfhame unless something forces them to act elsewhere.

By contrast, Orlagh directly oversees almost the entirety of the underwater world of Faerie. The only courts she doesn’t actively rule are those too far distant from her central powerbase, or too strong (for the moment) for her to take over. The rest, though, she systematically eroded their powerbases and then killed their leaders and took over, and by all accounts, she’d planned to run a similar campaign through Nicasia if she was successful in forcing Cardan’s hand and installing her as High Queen.

On the other hand, though, she does love her daughter. She was willing to abandon her ambitions and take the hit to her own pride and power on land to spare her daughter the agony and indignity Cardan was inflicting on her. So while it’s obvious where Nicasia gets a lot of her high and mighty attitude, and her disdain for mortals and general sense of entitlement, I think there’s also a level of depth to her feelings that no one ever really gives her credit for until very late in the story.

And it’s for good reason! Nicasia and Cardan were lovers, and then she let herself be seduced away by Locke, only to lose him to a mortal, and that set up a good portion of the conflict in the first book--but the thing is that I believe she was genuinely in love with Cardan. Locke is very good at saying the right thing, he is charming and entrancing, and Nicasia made the choice to go along with his pretty words and hurt Cardan in the process, but I don’t think she ever really forgave herself for it. And by the time she was ready to make a play for Cardan’s affections again, he’d already become obsessed--and then in love, for all that it took him ages to realize it--with Jude (the same mortal she originally believed stole Locke from her), and I think she projected all of the anger and bitterness and guilt she felt at herself and her own choices onto Jude because she made a much more convenient target.

This doesn’t really become apparent until near the end of Queen of Nothing, and it was one moment that really sold me on how much Nicasia truly felt for Cardan--when she desperately begged Jude to save him from the curse. “So see? Those are two nice things about him that you didn’t know. And I saw the way you used to look at him when you didn’t think anyone was watching you. So promise me. Promise me you’ll help him.”

Nicasia recognized--probably long before Jude did, nevermind Cardan--that Jude was falling in love with him, and that there had to be something of that love remaining to make her help him. And then Jude--who never cried if she could help it, at least not in front of others, who hated showing weakness--sobbed openly, and begged Nicasia to tell her. Tell her something she could do--anything, anything at all--to save him. And in that moment, they understood each other in a way they never had before.

UHM, SO. Long story short lol. My feelings about Nicasia are complicated, and I loved the moment where Kaye punched her in the face--and she’s never gonna be my favorite character--but I also don’t dislike her as much as I did for most of the trilogy. That moment really turned a lot of what I think about her on its head, and I almost feel bad for her that she lost Cardan’s love so completely in large part because of his developing feelings for Jude--but as Jude and Cardan are my ultimate favorites, I don’t feel too bad. At the end of the day, she made her bed, and she had to lie in it.

But, ultimately, she managed to do so with relatively good grace, and I have to commend her for that.

[ibijau]

Concubine nhs pt10 / on AO3

Lan Qiren was predictably satisfied that next morning to learn that his nephew was finally willing to let him start looking for a young woman who would become empress. He had been pressing for it even before Lan Xichen met Nie Huaisang, and it had since become one of their few causes for arguments. This change of opinion pleased him so well that Lan Xichen felt a fresh new layer of guilt adding up to what was already plaguing him.

“I’m glad that boy can make you behave, where I can’t,” Lan Qiren said after being fed a lie. “I suppose I should have expected it. He’s smart, when he bothers.” To this Lan Xichen replied with a puzzled look, so his uncle explained. “I’ve been sending him books to study, and he sends notes saying what he thought of them. His understanding is usually shallow on most subjects, but he makes interesting observations sometimes. A good teacher might make something of him.”

That was something that Nie Huaisang had mentioned. Or at least, he had said that Lan Qiren was sending him books, blaming those less frivolous volumes he had in the little house on the emperor’s uncle. The way he’d spoken about it seemed to imply that he was not reading them, and he certainly never said anything about writing his own commentary on them.

It upset Lan Xichen to think that his uncle might have known Nie Huaisang better than he did.

He wondered if there was anyone who didn't know Nie Huaisang better than he did.

“If shufu thinks so, then he’s welcome to see if Huaisang might be interested in being taught,” Lan Xichen said, keeping his tone polite and distant. “Once I am married, I fear I might have less time to devote to him. Studying would provide him with something to do.”

And perhaps Nie Mingjue would hate Lan Xichen a little less in the future if his brother was given a chance for education. Perhaps that could still be saved. If Lan Qiren was the one to find him a teacher, it would certainly be a good one. Nothing but the best would do for an imperial concubine, and Lan Qiren had very high standards.

“I’ll see what can be arranged,” Lan Qiren promised. “I might visit him myself if I have time. I’ve missed having a student, and I’m curious about that boy. Even Wangji seems to think well of him, I can't continue ignoring him eternally.”

Lan Xichen smiled with as much joy as he could fake. He would have to warn Nie Huaisang then. His uncle was not prone to gossip, but he might become upset at Lord Nie for having used his son in such a manner, and Lan Xichen did not wish to see that friendship compromised. Not only that, but he did not want to be scolded for having behaved like a fool. He was ashamed enough about everything that had happened without his uncle lecturing him about it.

Having dealt with that matter, Lan Xichen went on with his day, not without some difficulty. He found it hard to focus on councils, or the people to whom he granted audiences. Every problem was important, and deserved his full attention, but his mind was elsewhere, and only through great effort did he manage to do his duty. Only a bad emperor would let private business distract him from his empire, he'd always been told, and yet there he was.

It took just as much effort to get ready to go to the little house that evening. Lan Xichen had prepared some reports he needed to read, hoping to somehow turn the time spent in that house into something productive. That plan crumbled when he opened the door only to be greeted by Nie Huaisang, dressed in his finest clothes, wearing too much jewellery, smiling at him as if nothing had happened.

“You’re home!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, springing from the sofa where he’d been sitting and running toward Lan Xichen who only escaped his concubine’s embrace by holding up a hand and pushing him away.

“What are you doing?” Lan Xichen snarled.

Nie Huaisang stumbled, his smile wavering. He stared at Lan Xichen for a moment, eyes wide and terrified, before quickly lowering his gaze as he bowed deeply.

“His highness said he would continue visiting,” Nie Huaisang mumbled. “This humble one thought his highness would wish… that I should…”

“No!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, so embarrassed it made him nauseous.

He still wanted Nie Huaisang, still loved him. He couldn’t help it, not even when he now knew that the person he loved wasn’t real. But as much as he’d been desperate the day before for any sign that Nie Huaisang might wish to continue his comedy, now that it was truly happening, the thought of it was appalling. It was bad enough that he’d unknowingly taken advantage in the past, but to still kiss Nie Huaisang and take him to bed while fully aware that the other man did not want him back would have been criminal.

He’d made a mistake in taking what was only offered under duress. He would not make another mistake in continuing to take advantage.

“We’re not doing that anymore,” Lan Xichen said, prompting Nie Huaisang to raise his eyes and throw him a confused look. “I’ve told you, I’m only continuing to come here to avoid giving the impression that your family fell out of favour. I’m not… I won’t ask that of you again. You can be safe on that regard at least!”

That reassurance did not have the intended effect, and Nie Huaisang only looked more distressed. Perhaps now that the initial shock of being discovered had passed, he was worried about what his father would say when he heard about that failure, and truly hoped to mend what had broken. Lan Xichen felt angry, but sorry too. Maybe when the war was over, he would find a way to free Nie Huaisang from his current position without sending him back to face his father.

Maybe Lan Qiren had the right idea, about finding him a teacher. If Nie Huaisang could pass the exams and enter the administration, his father might find it harder to punish him.

“In the future, when I come here, just continue on as if you were alone,” Lan Xichen ordered. “I will do the same. You don’t need to dress up like this, either. Just keep on what you’d normally wear.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Lan Xichen opened his mouth, ready to say there was no need to be using his title, only to quickly change his mind. Much as that new proof of the distance between them pained him, it would be worse to be addressed in a familiar manner. This was safer.

“Let’s eat,” Lan Xichen decided. “Then I will work for a while and sleep. You’ll take the bed,” he added after a moment of reflection. “I’ll take the sofa.”

“Your highness should take the bed,” Nie Huaisang protested. “It would be more suitable.”

“The sofa is fine.”

Nie Huaisang hesitated, and bowed even deeper. “His highness is tall, and the sofa is not long enough for him to lay down comfortably. This humble one is shorter, and has fallen asleep there many times without issues.”

It was reasonable, but Lan Xichen disliked the idea of sending Nie Huaisang to sleep on the sofa while keeping the bed to himself. It would feel like taking advantage again.

“You take the bed,” he insisted. “I might not even sleep at all anyway. I have a lot of work.”

Nie Huaisang looked unconvinced. He pouted, as if ready to say something about Lan Xichen’s stubbornness, as he did sometimes. But remembering he didn’t have to pretend to care anymore, he just lowered his eyes and gave up on the matter.

The evening, after that, went on quietly and awkwardly. They ate without a word, Lan Xichen having to fight several times the impulse to put in Nie Huaisang’s bowl some vegetables he knew the other man liked, or to ask him about his day. That heavy silence between them was hard to handle and yet necessary, or so Lan Xichen tried to convince himself. When they were done, the table was freed and cleaned to Lan Xichen could work, while Nie Huaisang grabbed a book and took refuge on the bed. It was the same military treaty as the previous day. Lan Xichen couldn’t help being upset about that for some reason, though he tried to focus on the reports he’d brought.

Tried, and failed.

"Shufu has told me he'd like to come see you," Lan Xichen announced after a while, when he found himself glancing at Nie Huaisang again and their eyes met. "He is interested in talking to you about the books he's made you read. I would appreciate if you kept our current situation from him." 

"Of course, your highness,” Nie Huaisang replied, curling up a little tighter in his corner of the bed.

"He also spoke of finding you a teacher. If that's something you'd like, tell him. We have to start planning for your future after the war." 

"Yes, your highness." 

Lan Xichen frowned, wanting to ask what Nie Huaisang wanted, but refrained from it. Lan Qiren would be told, and he was the one who could organise those things. Having warned Nie Huaisang, the rest was out of Lan Xichen's hands. 

For a good while longer, Lan Xichen continued reading. He took notes as long as he could, until tiredness made that impossible. Then he laid down on the sofa, forced to fold his body in a rather uncomfortable position as he continued reading. 

After those last few days, even a bad position was not enough to keep Lan Xichen awake through the night. Without noticing he fell asleep, and only woke up a little before dawn. His aching back was what woke him, but the first thing he really noticed was that someone had wrapped a heavy blanket around him while he slept. 

There could be no doubt that it was Nie Huaisang’s doing. Aside from the two of them, nobody would have dared to enter the little house at night. Servants had been instructed quite strictly from the start to wait until morning to pick up empty dishes, unless ordered otherwise. But as to why Nie Huaisang would do such a thing, Lan Xichen couldn't be sure. 

It might have been nothing more than duty, and the need for every subject to care for their emperor. Or perhaps it was merely the force of habit, after three years of living together. Or else, if Lan Xichen allowed himself a moment of weakness, he could pretend that Nie Huaisang did care for him, not as an emperor but as a person.

A pleasant illusion to have in the vanishing darkness, but which could not be lingered on as morning light lazily inundated the little house. 

Lan Xichen got up from the sofa, and stretched as best as he could when he wouldn't let go of that blanket. Out of habit, he turned his attention to the bed, where Nie Huaisang was sleeping deeply. Just like Lan Xichen, he must have fallen asleep by accident: his candle had entirely consumed itself, and his book laid open on the mattress, not far from his hand. 

It wasn't an unfamiliar scene. Nie Huaisang would sometimes stay awake later than was reasonable, reading about poetry or devouring a novel. What Lan Xichen would do then, what he did again that morning, was to pick up the discarded book, placing something in it to keep the page. He would then make sure Nie Huaisang was warm enough, which he did that time by giving back the blanket offered to him during the night. And then, because Nie Huaisang always looked so sweet and peaceful in sleep, he would… 

Lan Xichen froze above Nie Huaisang, having stopped just before his lips could touch the other man's. He remained that way a moment, hardly daring to breathe as the realisation of what he had almost done hit him. Then, as if struck by an invisible force, he quickly stumbled back, nearly tripping on the hem of his robe in his haste to put distance between himself and the sleeping young man. 

Habit was a powerful thing, Lan Xichen thought as he hurried to make himself presentable so he could leave that cursed house. 

He would have to be more careful in the future.

[dreamsatdusk]

Analysis:  Baghra and the Apparat

I received an Anon ask a while back and accidentally published it before it was done a while back.  Privated the post but decided to have the final product as a new post just in case; I don’t want it buried in tags from way back.

The Ask:

Hello! Can you do a breakdown on Baghra's character and the Apparat's? I'm interested in reading your thoughts about them

Thank you for the ask!  And apologies for the delay in response.

Baghra

One of the first Grisha meta posts I wrote years ago was about how the way Baghra and her hut are portrayed evoke the impression of Baba Yaga.  Her appearance, hut in the woods (likely amidst birch trees), and something of her attitude all lend themselves to it.  Since then, I’ve also come to think there might be a bit of tie in to the tale of Vasilisa the Beautiful, who was forced to go and bargain with Baba Yaga for a light against the darkness.  

Looking past that surface, in the trilogy we are presented with Baghra as a figure both ascetic and penitential, as well as bitter and unkind.  The latter traits are well explained by what we learn of her history:  she has had a long life filled with a great deal of loss, with countless threats to Grisha and particularly to she and her son, different as they are even from other Grisha.  Her childhood was a sad one brimming with trauma and what she recalls of her parents to Alina causes me to think that she did not feel truly loved by either one of them.  I think their treatment of her and behavior toward each other shaped her perspective on life in profound ways, ones she never got past.

But the former traits don’t have so obvious a cause on page if you look more deeply.  Her lifestyle is very austere despite the fact there is no need for it - she is not on the run and in hiding any longer as she was in the Darkling’s youth.  Her conversations with Alina in regards to her son are couched in religious terms:  she is worried about his being beyond redemption, she speaks of merzost as abomination, and so forth. In R&R, she has Misha read religious parables to her to pass the time.

This clashes with what we know of contemporary Grisha.  It is said at one point in S&B that Grisha don’t put much stock in religion and we see the Darkling does not seem to either.  Not to mention the fact that he and his mother knew at least several Grisha who later became considered saints.  I find it likely they suspected other saints could also have been Grisha - Grisha and martyred for it, their true identities obscured so later people could pray to them and not have to consider the ‘unnatural’ people they were.  It makes a lot of sense that neither Baghra nor the Darkling would invest much consideration in Ravkan religion as it is presented on page.  In fact, it seems like they’d find it more infuriating than anything.  And yet.

The Second Army has no need to lead lives of deprivation.  Yes, they eat ‘peasant-style breakfast’ and such, but their rooms are gorgeous, they have beautiful clothing, sugar for their tea and so forth.  Baghra surely wouldn’t be living in a tiny dark hut in the trees unless that is what she wanted.

There’s also the fact that she shows signs of not using her summoning powers.   Even before S&S, she’s apparently quite chilly a lot.  It makes sense she wouldn’t show she could summon shadows where other Grisha could see.  But the indication is she isn’t using her powers at all.   That is another way she seems to have chosen to deprive herself, to the point of impacting her health.  Perhaps she even hoped that it would lead to her death, but apparently it has not been enough to override the impact of her amplification talent.

Looking back at the woman seen in Demon in the Wood and was glimpsed in the tale she tells Alina of her past, it very much seems to be something happened to turn who Baghra was into who we see in the trilogy.  

I suspect much of the true reason is that she is pretty much a plot device in the story.  She needs to spook and horrify Alina into running.  Her talk of ‘redemption’ and ‘abomination’ are peculiar in terms of many other elements we see in the books.  I’m writing a meta on the amplifiers and merzost and such that goes into this further, but I’ve also written some in the past about how there’s no real reason to believe merzost is inherently bad. Baghra has clearly decided it is though and speaks of it and her son’s actions in absolutist terms.  Because she needs to in order to have the narrative run how it does, more than once.

And again, what reason would this character really have to put so much faith in Ravkan religion?  

What’s a possible in-universe explanation for this?  I think the creation of the Shadow Fold works well for that.  We find out that what the Black Heretic was actually trying to do was recreate Morozova’s amplifier experiments and something went wrong.  (This is the focus of the upcoming meta I mentioned above.). The Fold happened and all of the people within its bounds were transformed into volcra. All in all, a horrific situation, however much an accident.  This could have functioned as such a systemic shock to Baghra’s worldview that she sought solace and perhaps forgiveness in religion.  I suspect she felt guilt, which is pointed to in things she says in the trilogy.  Also, she’s the reason the Darkling even had Morozova’s journals - she went back to the village she was born in and found them, per R&R.

I still think her being invested in the Ravkan religion itself is a weak point, but could be generously explained by just how traumatized she was by the Shadow Fold situation.  She may have desperately wanted something to believe in.  That said, the lack of any sign in the books of what more lies behind Ravkan religion than Saints and the fact that Baghra knows that at least several of those Saints were actually Grisha, doesn’t make this the strongest argument to me.

I also wrote some weeks back on how Baghra was portrayed as emotionally and physically abusive to Alina and according to their own accountings in R&R, other Grisha as well.  In the early days of the fandom, I never really saw that acknowledged, though it has gotten far more recognition this year with new people reading the books since the release of the tv show.

Overall, she is a very bitter person and I think a lot of what we see of her is driven OOC by her being largely a plot device and IC by guilt.  She feels guilty about the Fold’s creation and so forth and lashes out at others in misdirected anger.

I think this also relates somewhat to her treatment of Alina in S&S and R&R.  She blames Alina for not ‘adequately’ running away (went after the stag instead), blames her for the Darkling putting himself beyond redemption (in Baghra’s mind - like too many people IRL, she seems to not understand what redemption actually is), blames her for the sea whip, for wanting to find the third amplifier.  She blames Alina for these things, but it is likely a mask for further personal guilt. Of all people, Baghra is likely the one who would have been most successful in stopping the Darkling before things took the path they did.  He trusted her.

But her nasty treatment of others obscures that Baghra is largely a passive character in the trilogy. Whether out of love or some variety of religious concern, she doesn’t try to kill her son.  She doesn’t remove Alina from the situation in a more final way, only tells her to run.  And in the end, she commits suicide rather than more directly confront the Darkling.

The Apparat

Okay, after all that, I don’t have near as much about the Apparat. *L*

If Baghra’s surface details are meant to evoke Baba Yaga, then I think the Apparat’s point to Rasputin.  His physical description was practically a caricature (if you’ve only seen the show, he looked far less revolting in that than he was described in the books) and he starts out as a trusted advisor to the Ravkan royal family.

One of the big questions about the Apparat is about what he truly believes.  He was in cahoots with the Darkling around the coup against the Lantsov dynasty in S&B, but he later swung his support behind the Sun Summoner.  I think it would be a believable reading of the text to suspect he may have planned to do so since learning of Alina’s existence.  There’s no real reason to think he truly supported the Darkling’s cause or cared much for Grisha themselves; on the latter point, I think the greater support is for the idea that he does not care about the Grisha and just used them to get what he wanted.  

His presentation is a mix of True Believer and power-seeker and a great deal of the questions around him relate to where one thinks he falls most strongly on that spectrum.  Alina’s interactions with him in S&B have the hallmarks of a fanatic, but then, these signs are also seen through Alina’s eyes and you have to consider whether she is seeing reality or a careful act.  I think the case could be made for either.   But either way, I also think he wanted power.  I suppose you could argue he wanted power on behalf of Sankta Alina, but I think his actions in R&R show that an Alina who wasn’t going to comply with his wishes was deemed more trouble than she was worth. If she had died, I don’t think he fundamentally would have cared.  She had established enough of a reputation, was known to enough people, that he could have exploited her as a martyr without having to deal with the reality.

The Apparat was the sort of character I tend to really dislike (religious manipulation, etc.).  Something that struck me in all the books is how more than one character was strangely...tolerant of him. He backstabbed people more than once and yet nothing was every truly done about it.