#versus her feelings / emotions now

[lunaetis]

𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

                there was a change in him ( @v-iciious ) that was obvious to the one who had always stayed by his side.

                the time she had seen him became lesser and lesser, though the ex-soldier would never complain about it. the lives they both led even prior to their first meet shaped who they are now, and their pasts were exactly why their paths had crossed in that fateful night and the mission that should've ended her life as they knew it.

                the BEAST watched him from the corner, noting that inevitable change in his demeanor, the way his eyes were more fierce even when he wasn't reading the documents in hand. violet was never someone demanding of his presence or time ever since they were together, there was never once a complaint from her side. perhaps, the only thing that came to her mind was that of worry, of the hardened personality he began to adapt after he returned from work, if it could be called that.

                if it were the time before this, he would've noticed the subtle change in the BLONDE's demeanor. the way her lips parted as though she was trying to tell him something, yet decided against it. if it were before, he'd have inquired what was on her mind, or why her eyes were following him as though she was longing for his presence despite him still seated beside her. but those times were no more, not when sometimes it went weeks, or even more without them seeing each other.

                she didn't know what was on his mind anymore, nor did he know what was on hers.

                he was busy, that was what she kept telling herself. from days turned into weeks, of how she had never found the right time to speak to him about what was on her mind, and it was beginning to eat up at her. day after day, she would be lucky to get a glimpse of him returning home ( could their place still be called that ? )

                " lir. " the silence was BROKEN, and for some reasons, she noticed how the sound of his name became foreign to her tongue. since when did his name that used to be the very thing that calmed her down become something alien to her ? when was the last time she had called him by name ? she didn't know. bright azure hues were staring at him, hoping for a moment of his time but even the affectionate nickname he used to call her felt like a distant past, too. a wordless gaze was all she got from him, this time, but she had his attention.

                an envelop was presented to him, rather a peculiar way to communicate something. no other sound nor words were uttered until he took it, and only then would he notice it was not her handwriting, nor was it addressed to him. if anything, he wouldn't have recognized the HANDWRITING at all. it was, however, the content of the letter that would grab at his attention.

                a hand-written letter with no address. it could only mean one thing —

                — this was delivered to her in person.

                as he read it, the EX-SOLDIER stood there with mixed emotions. when she first read the letter, she could feel her heart pounding. should this news be received many years prior to this, then she would have leapt for joy and rushed to the person's side without any hesitation. yet, the fact that she was standing there, looking like she was torn between making the decision with her heart or her mind. it was a summon, or perhaps one could say a request and a plead ? but to violet, anything that person said would've been an order.

                so why was it that she was reluctant to follow ?

                " he's calling for me. " finally, her words were heard once more, and the man-made weapon was sure that he already finished reading the letter itself. lips thinned, and gloved digits curled inwardly, the matching ring she had on her finger gleamed dimly upon the light, mirroring the one he had on his own.

                i don't want to leave. i don't want to leave you, lir ...

                head lowered, and her hand came to caress the EMERALD BROOCH on her person. no matter what he said, no matter what was asked of her, if he simply said the word, she would follow. she was his tool, and he was her master. he was EVERYTHING — despite being unable to feel it with her prosthetic hands, she gripped the brooch tightly.

                after all, it was the man who gave it to her that wrote the letter.

                " lir — " idon'twanttogoidon'twanttogoidon'twanttogo.

                " — i have to go. to him. "

                gilbert bougainvillea is alive.

[prettyboykatsuki]

BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone. 

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it. 

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity. 

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

__

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him. 

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally. 

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful. 

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance. 

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks.  Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way. 

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true. 

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read. 

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time. 

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice. 

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties. 

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm. 

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane. 

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.  

It's relieving in the worst way. 

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little. 

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago. 

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you. 

You look at him. 

“You’re horrible.” 

“Tell me something new.” 

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.” 

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already. 

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.” 

“The contract. Are you serious about that?” 

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.” 

“And that’s me?” 

“Seems like it,” 

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol. 

“...Fine.” 

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to. 

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy. 

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower? 

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all. 

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.” 

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid. 

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle. 

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears. 

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery. 

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria. 

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least. 

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression. 

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face. 

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.” 

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is. 

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness. 

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it. 

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions. 

“How would I know?” 

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?” 

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.” 

Sukuna barks a laugh. 

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?” 

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.” 

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can. 

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors. 

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh. 

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.” 

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?” 

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy. 

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that. 

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again. 

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up. 

“Thought of something, brat?” 

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine. 

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.” 

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?” 

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.” 

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.” 

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?” 

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want? 

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.” 

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter. 

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him. 

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat. 

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad. 

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.” 

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it. 

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you. 

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear. 

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.” 

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.” 

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,” 

“There what is?” 

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?” 

“What is it, oh.” 

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical. 

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire. 

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice. 

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation. 

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.” 

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers. 

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.” 

You don’t even think about asking what he means. 

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.” 

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?” 

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”  

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static. 

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body. 

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins. 

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.” 

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you. 

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.” 

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you  - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago. 

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge. 

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.” 

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.” 

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs. 

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity? 

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you. 

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes. 

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name. 

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades. 

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.” 

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly. 

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows. 

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.” 

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.” 

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.” 

[ellecdc]

would you ever have the desire to write a part two to “bitten” where the reader has her first full moon and regulus comforts her (as well as remus bc duh) afterwards? I understand totally if you don’t!! 🖤

this has taken me months to complete - this was started back in April lol so thanks for the suggestion and your patience. Also, because I felt like Bitten turned out to be such a good story, this will of course not be comparable in the slightest, so do keep that in mind as you read <3

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who has her first full moon [3.4k words]

p1 // p2

CW: werewolf behaviour and transformations, discussions of past familial issues that led to your bite

A proposal.

It had been a proposal that led to you fleeing from your home over the winter hols only to be attacked by a werewolf.

Though, Remus supposed it was more of a betrothal announcement than a proposal, seeing as no one had actually asked you; you had no real say in your engagement to Mulciber Senior, whose first wife only recently perished ‘under mysterious circumstances’. 

Engagement, betrothals, proposals; all words that were supposed to symbolise love and devotion being reduced to a sentence of life-long servitude and imprisonment. 

You were right to flee, yet you were punished greatly for it. 

You were still being punished for it, and would now pay that debt for the rest of your life.

Remus thought that might have been the hardest part for him, as he and all of your friends returned to school to find you looking, appearing, and probably feeling quite fragile.

The second hardest part - which of course had nothing on watching you work through your physical and emotional trauma - was having to deal with Regulus and Barty’s realisation that they would not be able to help on your first full moon. 

Of course they knew as much when they started the process, but there was a stark difference between reading the fact that the mandrake leaf needed to remain in one’s mouth from one full to another versus digesting that for what it meant. 

They were lucky enough to start the month-long mandrake leaf step immediately after you were bitten, which would allow them to complete the “full-to-full” moon cycle with the leaf in their mouth should neither of them spit it out or swallow it accidentally, but that was simply step one in a long and arduous potion-making process. 

They were then required to wait for an electrical storm after making the difficult potion with other hard-to-come-by ingredients - performing an incantation each morning and night in the meantime - to complete the process. Seeing as it was currently the middle of winter in the Scottish Highlands, they could be waiting an awful long-time for the next appropriate storm. 

“What do you mean?” Barty asked again.

Remus tried to suppress the urge to roll his eyes; for being brilliant enough to receive Outstanding on all twelve O.W.L’s, Barty was really quite thick.

Regulus - well versed to his friend’s foolishness - had no such qualms and audibly rolled his eyes at him.

“He means exactly what he said, Barty.” Regulus spat.  “We will not be able to be there for her first…transformation.” Any remaining  ire swiftly left his tone as his eyes darted to you at the end of his sentence.

Your lips pursed slightly but you simply looked at your feet.

Remus felt as if he’d hardly heard you speak since That Night; though he knew that wasn’t true. You’d spoken plenty, it just never sounded exactly like you.

There was none of your quick wit, or your simmering temper, or your effervescent joy.

Remus knew this would change you in more ways than one; being infected with lycanthropy didn’t mean you would simply turn into a rage-filled beast once a month.

This also meant you’d be warring with another voice inside of your head and another heart beating inside of your chest, both of which were seemingly working against you more and more everyday closer to the full moon.

This meant that you would never fully trust another person to know you - all of you - lest they judge you for your affliction. 

This meant that any plans and dreams you once had for your future self would have to be reconsidered or scrapped entirely. 

Life was different for you now.

You were different now. 

And it was Remus and Regulus’ job to love you through that. 

“Can you…” You started quietly before trailing off, still looking down at the floor. 

“What is it, dove?” Remus encouraged quietly.

You swallowed before nodding your head to yourself. “Can you tell me again? How it happens?”

This wasn’t the first time you asked this question, nor was it the first time Remus described the process to you in gruesome detail, but he would repeat it however many times you asked him to if it brought you any comfort at all. 

“After dinner, we go up to the dorms to change before heading to the shrieking shack. There’s a small knot on the whomping willow that Pete scouts ahead to press in order to stun it momentarily; long enough to let us in.” He explained. “I usually get upstairs and try to lie down for a little bit…try to be as comfortable as possible until I feel the transformation coming.”

“How do you know? That the transformation is coming?” This time, it was Barty who asked. 

“Your heart rate speeds up nearly double time and my skin feels like it's being pulled taut. No one is allowed to be in the room when it happens - neither I nor The Wolf have any control over our movements at the time; it’s not safe.” He explained to Barty before turning back to you. 

“About halfway through the transformation, you lose sight of the pain because it’s no longer you that is feeling it; it’s no longer you in control.” He expressed solemnly to you. “James, Pete, and Sirius would have already transformed in the next room before they come out to check on Moony; the first time they were very cautious and Moony was stand-offish, but they’ve fallen into a routine now.” 

“And then?” You continued quietly for him. Remus ached to reach across and pull your hand into his; but Remus understood just how violated you must be feeling since the Bite, and he was wary to push you. 

“And then, depending on the mood Moony seems to be in, James - as Prongs - usually opens the hatch that is Moony proof and lets them out for a romp. They start by following a trail they’ve carved down a large hill, then they chase each other down the riverbank before stopping for a drink at the edge of the Black Lake, and then Pads encourages Moony back towards the shack before the transformation.” 

“And transforming back…it hurts the same?” You asked cautiously.

Remus smiled sadly and leaned his elbows on his knees bringing him that much closer to where you were seated; looking painfully small in the desk chair situated near the trunk at the end of Regulus’ bed that Remus was sitting on. “It does, my love. But then it’s done.”

“But then it’s done.” You echoed in a whisper, pausing shredding your nail beds when Remus placed a tentative hand over your own. 

“What’s the new plan?” It was Regulus asking this time. “Now that she will be there?”

James, Sirius, and Peter - who had been quiet up until that point - perked up. 

“The plan stays mostly the same.” Sirius started.

“We’ll head upstairs after dinner and change. We’ll head to the shack, Wormy will stun the tree.” James continued.

“But that’s where the plan deviates.” Peter added. 

“There’s the room with the bed that Moo- erm, Remus awaits the transformation, and then there’s the room that we usually hide in during the transformation as our animagi; Y/N will transform in that room.” James explained.

“But then where will you lot be?” Barty asked then. 

“In the attic - it’ll be a little harder for Prongs to navigate down the narrow steps but he can manage.” Sirius stated surely, clapping a teasing hand against his friend’s back.

“We’ve practised - it was quite funny to watch the first time.” Peter added with a chuckle.

“I’ll have you know I am very agile.” James argued with a pout. 

“What happens if the wolves don’t like each other?” Barty asked again; clearly uninterested in hearing just how agile James’ animagus was. 

The room fell quiet as the Gryffindor’s shared awkward glances and Remus stared at the top of your down turned head, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. 

“They should be fine.” Sirius started, though his tone lacked confidence. “Wolves are pack animals - they should-”

“But what if they’re not fine, Black?” Barty pressed. 

“Junior, knock it off.” James barked. 

“I will do no such thing! You’re locking two very dangerous beasts in-”

“Enough.” Remus ordered when you flinched at the phrase dangerous beasts; shocking the whole room quiet. “That’s enough now.” He added quietly, encouraging your hands to separate and pulling them to his lips. “You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay.” You repeated on an exhale, but your voice was pitchy.

“Everybody out.” Regulus demanded.

The three Gryffindor’s moved without second thought. 

Barty seemed to hesitate. “But this is my roo-”

“Barty, please.” Regulus begged, causing Sirius to turn and look at his brother sadly; desperation not commonly seen or heard from a Black. 

“I’m sorry, Treasure.” Barty whispered before turning and following the other boys out of the room. 

“I’m okay.” You said again.

“You don’t have to be.” Remus offered you then as Regulus sat beside him to look at you imploringly. 

“I’m fucking scared.” Your voice cracked painfully at the end of your sentence causing Remus’ heart to crack painfully in sympathy. 

“I know dove, I know.” 

“We’re so well prepared, amour. This is going to go as well as it’s going to go.” Regulus added solemnly. 

It hurt both of them to be unable to comfort you anymore, but neither of them were willing to lie to you, and you seemed to appreciate the honesty. 

“I’m okay.” You repeated.

“You’re okay.” Both boys agreed in unison. 

You have to be. Remus thought to himself. I’ll make sure of it. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

If Sirius had thought the walk to the Whomping Willow after having to watch you and Remus say goodbye to Regulus (and Barty) was painful, then having to listen to the sounds of your blood curdling screams during your transformation was down right excruciating. 

Sirius - now Padfoot - was well-versed in hearing his Moony crying out in agony, though he wouldn’t go far enough to say he was accustomed to it. No one became accustomed to hearing such visceral sobs from anyone, let alone one of their best friends. 

But the addition of your gut wrenching shrieks simply added even more heartbreak to an already heartbreaking moment as Padfoot desperately tried to cover his ears with his paws, wondering if he shouldn’t have been so quick to promise Regulus that he’d make sure you were okay because this felt anything but. 

Prongs, either agreeing with Padfoot or simply sympathetic to his plight, wrapped his neck around his canine friend in an attempt to quell the noise coming from below them.

It didn’t help much, but Padfoot was grateful for it nonetheless. 

Dogs couldn’t tell time, so Padfoot had no real way of knowing how much time had lapsed between the sounds of wailing to the sounds of howling before both faded away into an occasional grunt and sniff, but Prongs - after sharing a cautious look with his friends - carefully opened the latch to the lower levels as the three friends deigned to enter the wolf's den. 

Moony - usually very excited to see his friends and packmates - hardly spared the three marauders a passing glance as his face stayed pointed at the slightly ajar door that Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail usually entered from.

Padfoot made a snuffling sound and nudged Moony’s hip with his shoulder, but the wolf simply spared him a fleeting glance and offered him a dismissive huff before turning back towards the door. 

Moony could tell something was different, something was off, though he knew not what yet. 

But the second there was noise coming from the room, Moony was standing with his ears pinned back against his head and his teeth showing. 

The door was slowly pushed open by means of a long snout also snarling as Padfoot watched Trouble slowly creep out of the room with her hackles raised and teeth bared. Moony quickly surged forward - the big oaf - causing Trouble to back into the peeling wallpaper which disturbed the dust as she snarled loudly at the other wolf.

This was not going well, Padfoot thought. They were supposed to be a pack - this was decidedly not pack.

Padfoot was just about to say something along those lines when Wormtail nibbled on his foot.

Warning. 

He hardly had a chance to give the rat a doggy glare when he noticed Moony’s stance changing; no longer was he low to the ground but moving to stand tall in front of the still cowering and snarling Trouble.

Padfoot held his breath as Moony’s snout inched closer and closer to Troubles; sniffing her out as she continued to snarl until he gently booped her nose with his, causing her to rear her head back and close her mouth - though the growling from her chest was still ever present.

Suddenly, Moony let out three ‘sneezes’ in quick succession before bowing down in front of her.

Yes! Padfoot cheered. Friends! Pack! 

He must’ve made an excited whine because Moony’s head whipped towards his oldest friend before launching himself at him and starting a playful wrestling match full of hip shoves, sneezing, and play bites. 

Trouble cocked her head at the two as she cautiously sat down, looking sceptically between the rat and stag.

Prongs, being perhaps more brave (or bold) than Wormy, stepped towards the wolf offering her a regal bow before gently booping her nose with his, causing the wolf to let out a sneeze.

Play!? Padfoot wondered at the canine sign for enjoyment and playfulness. Moony agreed, letting out three quick yips before play bowing in front of the other wolf again.

Padfoot watched as Trouble considered the wolf in front of her - far more seasoned than her, in an established pack, and … seemingly okay with her.

Padfoot offered her an encouraging stomp of his doggy foot, and that seemed to seal the deal. 

The rest of the evening had gone pretty smoothly after that; the three friends agreed that Trouble could handle a short romp in the woods. Moony didn’t seem too fussed that his usual routine was being disrupted, so Padfoot considered that a win, too. 

Padfoot, Prongs, and Moony gallivanted through the trees whilst Trouble and Wormy followed dutifully behind them; only pausing when Trouble heard any other noise or creature in the forest and letting out a quick rumbling from her chest before Moony merely rubbed against her like a giant wolf-like feline to assure her they were fine. 

So yeah, the rest of the evening had gone pretty smoothly. 

And then it was time to transform. 

Trouble seemed completely uninterested in going anywhere or doing anything when her bones started to shift again, letting out pained whimpers and yips and snarling at anyone who got too close to her.

Padfoot was anxious; they needed to get her back to the shack - she could not transform out here. 

Prongs stomped his hoof into the ground very authoritatively as he puffed out his chest, and Moony looked between his stag and his wolf in concern before Wormtail scurried over to Trouble’s snout now resting in the dirt.

Padfoot’s not exactly sure what Wormy was telling Trouble as he sniffled at the Wolf’s snout and offered it gently pats, but whatever he said seemed to work as Trouble let out a pained huff but managed to stand and followed the pack back to the shack. 

Trouble had hardly made it into her designated room before she started howling in pain and the Padfoot could actually hear her bones breaking. The wincing from both Wormtail and Prongs suggested they could too. Moony made a snarling sound at the three of them, clearly suggesting they get their arses to the attic.

But the second that the howling turned into sobbing, Padfoot shifted back to Sirius and he went racing down the stairs. 

“Go- go check on her, please.” Remus gritted out, and Sirius didn’t need to be told twice.

You were unconscious, but you were breathing. Sirius took a quick inventory of your body and was happy to note you didn’t appear to have any external injuries before he covered you with a blanket. 

“Moons, sit down- no, stop.” Sirius heard James arguing.

“I need to see her, I need-”

“You need to lay down.”

“Sirius has her, Moony.” Peter offered. 

“Where is she!?” Sirius heard Barty shout breathlessly at the same time Regulus murmured a quiet “mon loup…” 

“She’s in here, Reg.” Sirius called before two bodies came barreling through the door.

“Why isn’t she awake? Why isn’t she awake!?” Barty shouted, causing Sirius to turn and stare daggers at him. 

“Junior if you cannot control yourself and stay calm for her sake you need to get the fuck back to the castle.” 

Barty seemed stunned by his intensity but Regulus simply knelt beside Sirius over your body. 

“Oh mon amour…” He murmured sadly. “Is she-”

“No injuries, Reg. And she’s breathing, just unconscious. I think that probably makes some sense, sometimes it takes a while for Rem to wake up too.” 

Regulus simply nodded as tears trailed down the bridge of his nose and chin before dripping onto the mattress beside you as he brought your hand to his lips.

“Thank you.” Regulus whispered. “For keeping both of them safe.”

“I made a promise, yeah?” Sirius offered, attempting to feign nonchalance but missing by a mile. “I keep my promises.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your lungs felt as though they were constructed from cement offering you no give or take as you took effortful breaths, but you were breathing nonetheless.

You were breathing.

The bubbles in your ears seemed to pop slowly with each breath, eventually allowing you to hear the gentle murmuring around you. You could hear…James, and Barty, and…

“Rem?” You croaked, wincing at the feeling of sandpaper in your throat as you tried to clear it.

“I’m here, dove. I’m right here.” He responded quickly, a gentle hand encasing yours. 

“Where-” you paused as you tried to swallow around the thickness in your throat. “Where’s Reg?” 

“I’m right here, amour.” You heard from somewhere above you; fingers brushing featherlight touches across your forehead as he moved some hairs away from your face. “Can you open your eyes?” 

You didn’t know. Could you open your eyes? You felt as though you should be able to, however, the fact that it took you as much effort as it currently did to suck in oxygen didn’t leave that too likely. 

“Come on, babylove, let us see those pretty eyes, hm?” Remus murmured as he pressed a kiss to your hand, and you decided that it was worth the try if Remus was going to speak so sweetly to you. 

“There she is, ma belle fille.” Regulus whispered as you looked up at him, currently standing at the head of your bed as he looked down at you with no shortage of adoration. 

Remus was sitting on your opposite side, no bandages or bruises as he held your hand in his, though he seemed the sort of bone deep tired that could only come from worry.

“I did it.” You murmured, causing Remus’ face to break out in an emotional smile.

“Of course you did, Treasure.” Barty sounded from somewhere at the foot of your bed. “You’re phenomenal and can do anything, there was never any doubt.”

“And I’d sooner die than let anything happen to you.” Sirius added. 

“I’m okay.” You whispered with a breath of relief. 

“Glad to hear it, because I decidedly wasn’t - leaving me alone with the likes of Barty all evening.” Regulus teased, though he seemed far more relaxed now as he perched against the edge of your bed. “Never let it happen again, okay?”

Sirius scoffed at his brother when James piped up. “Yeah well the two of you better hope for some unlikely weather then if you want an electrical storm in the middle of winter.”

You watched in perhaps a little bit of horror as a wicked smile took over Barty’s face. “Oh, don’t you worry.” He started. “There will be an electrical storm.”

And you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be exasperated, knowing damn well that if anyone was clever (and bat shit crazy) enough to fuck around with elemental magic and succeed, it would be Barty. 

“Can’t wait.” You offered with a smirk, and all six boys softened as they smiled at you.

[elizabethrobertajones]

kriles summer trust top is kinda problematic tho... lalafell r smol and should be wholesome.

Aw, come on.

I'm sorry but I have to disagree because within the fiction, lalafell are just as mean, gross and horny as anyone else. Gegeruju is a perv, and the whole Ul'dah Syndicate is full of evil little bastards. On the good side, lala are just as complex and grown up as anyone else - Tataru courts followers and dances in a skimpy outfit in the Forgotten Knight, Giott is a roaring drunk stereotypical fantasy dwarf (not to mention whatever the heck is going on with the Tomra and Komra dwarves in general tbh :P). And Lamitt's story was sweet but it did involve her having adult feelings for Ardbert.

Like, really, I can only think of 4 completely wholesome lala out of a cast of hundreds, and they happen to mostly be the ones we've interacted with a lot (Nanamo; Pipin who is a Heroic Knight archetype; Papalymo, who was a grumpy old scholar man; Krile). But that's more about them being main characters serving roles in the narrative rather than indicative of how lalas behave as a whole. In fact after going through ARR, meeting Pipin and finding One Good Ul'dahn Lala is an enormous relief (since the other one is apparently dead now).

And Krile is a main character now so she's allowed to step out of the shadow of being uwu cat hoodie girl who wasn't written with much depth outside of being serious and earnest and rather spooky; she's actually 22 years old according to the first wiki I found - regardless of if that's totally accurate she's definitely meant to be a peer of the other adult Scions and they all treat her like an adult. Her introduction cutscene has her ribbing Alphy as an older friend laughing at how a much younger one used to behave, so we're supposed to immediately understand on meeting her that she's post-teen since she knew 11 year old Alphy and was of course older than him since he was a freak entry into the Studium at that age. Probably a necessary writing moment because establishing lala's age with hilarious moustaches or deep voices or whatever is a part of how the game has to present them.

Out of the fiction, I know lalas are part of a much wider trope that people do find problematic as a whole (e.g. just because in universe Tataru has babes across the globe and that's normal to everyone involved, who are consenting adults in a world which wholly understands Tataru as a consenting adult, is it actually really creepy that it's happening at all because her body type is toddler-esque? Is it weird in general that lala emotes are SO baby in the same way miqo emotes are SO kitty?

ffxiv definitely goes waaay further into borderline creepy territory than many games with smaller fantasy races in it, when it comes to how lala look, so yeah I know it's a fraught area and can be discomforting to see the game present child-shaped people as having adult desires and a thing some people understandably set aside along with other elements as things they're not happy with co-existing in the game with things they really love.) We can absolutely talk about that on a meta level of how we relate to the game and feel about it, just like things we find racist or uncomfortable in other ways e.g. eng translation Hien's treatment of Yotsuyu being a really problematic point.

But, that's one thing, versus talking about us here in fandom and how we relate to it, and I think your ask is, well, really not very deeply considered on any level, but I think is talking about how we as fandom relate to lalas, based on an inaccurate reading of them in the game, meaning you're really not even analysing a thing about it and therefore your ask comes more in the terms of policing how we should FEEL about Krile's beach outfit, and dictating that we SHOULD find lalas smol and wholesome, and that therefore there's an inherent problem in anyone reacting positively to the outfit, rather than critiquing its place in the game in the first place. Having hit a cognitive dissonance in seeing swimsuit Krile existing you've come to me to complain it's problematic rather than taking any actual meaningful action. Ergo, this is a fandom problem to you, not a game problem. WE should find it problematic and say so, you are implying, shocked that so many people looked at a post about the beach outfits and no one commented as such.

Aside from lalafell being fictional and at no point other than the visuals are they treated as children (and emotes aside, playing through the MSQ as a lala wol you easily fall into seeing them as an adult because of course all the cutscenes share the same level of gravitas no matter what you're playing or what clown costume you have on any player), there ARE actually real humans who are built somewhere closer to lala than not, and would be drawn to playing any of the smaller races in a game (like, gnomes in WoW, halflings in D&D, etc) because that's just their chance at representation. And because FFXIV doesn't have anything other than precious moments doll-shaped people the look might be great in the sense that they have the proportions of a cherub statue and it is a lot harder to meet in the middle than a halfling (notoriously hairy middle aged bastards and much easier to read as adult, though that doesn't exclusively represent people who've had growth developmental differences), that IS still the only representative option some people have in the game and if they want to indulge it rather than play something else with proportions forced on them by many games, then what the hell is wrong with that?

And they WILL go to bat for lalas and get upset when people say that they have to be precious baby characters who act like children. I've seen that on tumblr: there's a whole lala community who keeps kinda low key and away from everyone else by their own admission BECAUSE as soon as they get too much attention they're deluged with hate for playing characters who have adult desires and dress fancy - or, you know, like any other random slutty elf WoL. The fact I wandered onto lala blogs at random and saw that complaint on the first pages should speak to how often they have to deal with it. And, again, within the fiction of the game their characters are completely 100% normal and doing what other lalas who are written by the game do as well. I KNOW those blogs are out there and they'd be scared of getting this exact ask, and it would greatly upset them and ruin their day and put them off having any interaction with the community, which fucking sucks. We're here to have fun!

That said I'm not a weirdo anti all up in others' business, it's also fine to just like lalas and stuff without some huge circumstantial justification like "they look like me" - or - "my IRL wife" or whatever - you can also just play a lala or ship with one and it's like, your business. If that's all you're doing and it's not a hypothetical child molester who also has a whole gallery of lala porn that the cops find when they impound the computer full of REAL CHILDREN stuff as well it's never going to be anyone else's business anyway, ever, and that's like, one hypothetical awful person for a whole fandom of normies who are just surprised by how much idk Pipin's deep voice rocked their world and changed their whole perspective on what a hot character was.

Like, granted, that one HYPOTHETICAL weirdo will make everything rancid because there are people waiting to jump on people who like lalas, but also it still won't actually change what other people are doing into being Evil just because someone who actually hurts children found lalas attractive too. That, again, was the hypothetical awful person's problem and not theirs. And in no way can we just casually imply ALL people who like lalas are just inherently going to be dangerous, like real children, or enacting a private psychodrama teetering on the edge of all that.

They could in fact be completely average and boring psychologically and also have a crush on Tataru. Or, I guess, normal amount of weird for a fandom, but basically average XD In a fictional world where these characters are treated as adults, even normal people will naturally end up drawn to them as adults because, well, that's the story that's we're all engaging in. It's not inherently a thought crime to do so, because, weirdly, thought crimes don't exist.

Also, of course, people will literally discourse that hobbits are child-coded and shouldn't be shipped or seen as sexy, despite the most famous halflings, who made the entire halfling race as a generic brand, all being middle aged, hairy, smoking, drinking, guys with normal adult desires and mindsets. I mean yeah Elijah Wood was 18 when they started filming LotR (over several years so he was Krile's age by the end :P) but also Frodo celebrated his 40th birthday before setting off on the Ring Quest in the book and he was the baby of the group aside from Pippin.

In any case, there's no fucking winning and so I can understand completely that if a fucking Hobbit from Lord of the Rings gets shit for being short, and people are getting called a perv for fancying Sam Gamgee, then why not just embrace it with a Lalafell because you're literally damned no matter what in the eyes of someone who won't meet a LOTR HOBBIT where he stands as an adult man.

There's some DEEP puritanical brainrot going on online and I don't want to be a part of it whatsoever, so it means accepting lala likers for the sake of protecting Merry and Pippin's right to be seen as hot, than like, I know which side of of the line I'm dragging my beach chair. It's not even a question. I'm defending people who think lalas are appealing.

ANYWAY none of this is my business, I don't even find lalas sexy, I just think Krile looks nice in her cute summer top and it's lovely that she's getting fashion advice from her besties, and there's a million reasons to be happy about that and for her as a character, and only miserable bastard reasons to go "aurgh aurgh it's problematic" and condemn the game and everyone who plays it just for enjoying something. Lalas are NOT smol and wholesome, they're short and people, and that's fine.

[callmewisteria]

Norm is absolutely one of my favourite characters in the Fallout universe. The fact he loves his family and wants what's best for them being what drives him to look for the truth of what has happened to them and why is fantastic. The ultimate difference between him and Chet, too, is a great show of his character. It began with him choosing to help his sister find their father and ends with him coming to the same realisation as she has – their father was not the man he said he was and much of their life has been a lie. Watching him decide to take the hunt for the truth into his own hands, even when it could be the end of him, is incredibly compelling.

What makes Norm so enjoyable to watch, too, is just how human he is. All of the characters in the show are that way, which is part of what makes it great (yes, even the ghouls as they were at one time human). The distress he feels at seeing what happened to Vault 32 being swept under the rug, and the anger he feels towards Betty and the others for doing it seemingly out of a desire for control and power more than anything else is tangible. The fact it drives him to take the risk of sneaking into Vault 31 shows his bold and couregous side, and also that it's driven by not only his own curiosities but his desire for the truth. It’s a great parallel trait he shares with Lucy and, as she comes to find out, their mother. The anger he feels towards his father and also the desperation he feels to survive are a great contrast of his truth seeking and his baser humanity.

All things considered, Norm's competing feelings of a desire for truth, a desire for safety, curiosity, and a love for his family are what make him a great character. The fact he shares those traits with Lucy but expresses them in different ways creates a strong parallel narrative for their characters, and also does a great job showing the two sides of courage. The fact neither he or Lucy are impervious or shy away from moments of weakness and subsiming emotion latch onto the naivety from their upbringing and also their humanity. With them both now having to reckon with the truth about their father, a reunion between them will I'm sure be great and also remind them that not all of their family members are bad. Reckoning with the truth about their mother and Lucy's love for her being what compelled her to end her suffering before breaking down at the gravity of it is another layer of complexity to their family dynamics that both of them will need time to sit with. The contrasting feelings of how they knew their father versus what they've come to learn about him serve well to separate them from others like Chet; where he, their cousin, chooses to remain wilfully ignorant, they chose to put aside their fears and look for a truth they knew was out there.

Chet is a coward because he chooses to ignore the truth he has seen with his own eyes.

Lucy is brave because she is willing to go to any and all lengths to find her father and is then willing to end the suffering her mother is under because of him; she is openly emotional and driven by that and the love she feels for her family and is horrified and shattered by her father being a different man than the one she had always known.

Norm is brave because he is willing to do anything for his sister and father and, when faced with the choice to stay in blissful ignorance, because he chooses to seek out the truth even when it could hurt him; he, too, doesn't shy away from the pain the truth about his father causes him and, like Lucy, has to learn to live with the competing memories of their father and the reality of who and what he is.

Hank is a coward because, while he goes to the extremes to attempt to preserve himself and his family, he refuses to accept the fact his actions have consequences for the way his children (and, previously, their mother) had seen him and instead tries to force things to go back to the way they were before his children could learn of his ability to be selfish.

And Rose was brave because she loved her children so much that she would and did do everything for them, even when she had to put her love for their father aside and risk herself so that she and her children could have a chance to live in truth rather than lies. Her children share that with her, even though they didn't know it, just as much as they share her love, empathy, and desire for the truth even when living in wilful ignorance could have been easier.

Tl;dr – the entire MacLean family being driven by love for each other but expressing it in different ways that ultimately drive them apart is not only great at showcasing the different sides of courage and cowardice but showing the way Lucy and Norm are so similar and are driven by their love for their family just as much as their desire for the truth and that neither Lucy or Norm shy away from their emotional and impulsive reactions to it presents them as not only fully human but two sides of the same coin; they are both couregous even though they take two different paths to the truth.

[wttcsms]

diesel is desire (we were playing with fire) ; sebastian sallow

pairing sebastian sallow x f!reader word count 4k synopsis sebastian sallow is a good friend. so good, in fact, that when you find yourself under the ungodly influence of a lust potion, he's willing to help give you some relief. content contains seventh year au, dubcon (under the influence of lust potion), darker take on seb's character lol <3, breeding kink, creampie, possessive!sebastian, possessive sex, virginity loss, babytrapping

“Why did you go out of your way to avoid me?” 

An accusatory voice momentarily breaks you free from the overwhelming feelings you were struggling to deal with, but the voice is too familiar.

The source? Sebastian Sallow — a very disappointed Sebastian Sallow, which after two years of friendship (and the lingering what-if of becoming something more), you’re able to identify as a Sebastian that you would much rather not be dealing with. Particularly because, try as hard as he might, he’s rather prone to saying harsh things and treating you unkindly whenever he gets into one of his moods. The hurt expression on his face is barely concealed by the scowl that mars his otherwise handsome features. 

Don’t think about how handsome he is!

Instead of replying to him, you’re quick to turn your head to the side, trying to focus on the curtain that separates your cot from the others in the infirmary. It’ll do no good to engage with Sebastian right now — not whenever the reason you’ve been compelled to check yourself in to the school nurse is purely because you’re not sure if you have enough self-control to stop yourself from literally ripping his robes off of him.

But it’s not like you can tell him all that. Lying would be preferable, if only Sebastian wasn’t so attuned to you and every single one of your tells. If you attempted lying to him, who knows what more damage you would cause? Then again, blatantly ignoring him also seems equally dangerous, especially with how quick to irritate he’s been lately. Ever since you witnessed him literally murdering his uncle, the relationship between the two of you has grown stronger — being practically partners in crime will do that to a friendship — but also more… volatile. The charming fifth-year you met on your first day of school still remains, but you have long since realized that there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On the surface, he’s nothing but affable. Maybe a bit of a rebellious streak, but it’s all in good nature. In the beginning, it was fun being with him. Exciting, even. Then you started following him on the dark path he paved all by himself, and before you could realize that you were in too deep, it had already been too late to turn around. Now, the seventh-year boy standing by your cot seems so different from the one who lives on only in your memories.

“Don’t ignore me.” He means to make the words come out sharp, irritated. It resembles more of a plea than anything, and you shut your eyes, willing him to leave. It must be all in your head, but you swear you can smell the familiar scent of him: cool mint mixed with the light musk of whatever cologne he’s been favoring since the fifth year. 

“Sebastian, I’m not feeling very well.” You mumble, hoping it’ll be enough to get him to leave you alone. It’s not a lie. You aren’t feeling great whatsoever. Not even the nurse, bless her heart, can figure out what’s become of you. She gave you a pitying look and an almost amused smile as she explained that — in her words — sexual urges are very normal for girls your age. 

If your body wasn’t already overheating, you’re certain your cheeks would have instantly turned hot from sheer embarrassment. 

“Well, why wouldn’t you tell me that instead of abandoning me the whole entire day?” Sebastian is many things with different people. With you, he is both guarded and vulnerable. Some days, when you’re not feeling your best, his emotions versus his actions can give you whiplash. He has the audacity to say something like that all the while, he sounds absolutely tortured over the fact that he had to go eight hours without your presence. 

As if realizing the harshness of his attitude, he softens his tone as he asks, “Are you feeling any better?”

You had gone to the Great Hall before him because you needed to review your History of Magic notes before the test today. All you had was a bit of pumpkin juice and toast, and all had been well until you started feeling warm underneath your robes and sweater. As the heat began to travel through your body, you found it hard to concentrate on your notes. Not because of the heat, but because of the many thoughts swirling around in your head. Flashes of Sebastian that started innocently enough and quickly morphed into daydreams of him without his uniform. Sebastian with his hair messed up from the way your fingers tugged at the strands as he satiated his thirst with the juices flooding between your legs. Sebastian who would prioritize your pleasure over his and could make you cum multiple times before even thinking about getting his dick wet. Sebastian—

—who you share most of your classes with! 

You knew right then and there that something had to be wrong with you. Sure, you’ve thought about him sometimes, but never to that degree. And certainly never at seven in the morning over breakfast and history notes. 

That’s how you ended up lying in a cot in the infirmary, trying your hardest to ignore the intrusive thoughts of Sebastian fucking you ‘til you can’t walk anymore. 

“No.” You practically moan out the word, and you’re hoping to play it off as just you being a baby about being “sick”. 

You don’t expect him to turn your head so that you’re staring up at the ceiling, and you certainly don’t expect him to press the back of his hand against your forehead. His hands are cold, but surprisingly enough, it brings you some sort of relief from the fever that has seemingly overtaken your body. You bite back another moan. 

“You’re burning up.” Gone is his attitude. Instead, it’s been replaced by your favorite Sebastian — the kind, caring one. The one that resembles the boy you first met. Sometimes, his care can be suffocating, but when you find yourself craving nothing but him and his touch, you don’t mind his invasion of your personal space at all. “Are there any other side effects? Does your throat hurt? Stomach? Tell me what’s the matter.” 

You know how Sebastian must feel when it comes to people he cares about falling ill. His sister has only made him more paranoid about the severity of sickness and curses, and the concern and fear etched upon his face makes your hardened resolve of keeping the sordid details of your affliction to yourself melt away.

“Don’t laugh…” You warn him, but your voice seems so small and maybe even a little scared that his expression turns even more serious.

“Never.”

“I think… I think something happened to me. A charm…” You’re careful to dance around the word curse, lest Sebastian accidentally blows up the whole entire infirmary due to his emotional state. “I just feel very hot. And, um, I think the only relief would be to—”

You can’t even say it. You can barely even explain it since you don’t really know what’s happening either. 

“I’mfeelingverysexuallyfrustratedandIhavenomeansofrelief!” 

The two of you know that you’re never going to repeat that phrase ever again, and you’re practically near tears after that little confession. 

“Oh.” He says, as if this is nothing more than a simple, casual conversation and not the most humiliating situation ever. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“Be-because it’s embarrassing!” Has he really no shame? Who would willingly admit that out loud? 

“You know, I’ve heard rumors of some sixth-years trying to pull pranks by spiking the juices with love potions. Just really gimmicky concoctions, truly. Nothing too severe. Hmm… You must have a sensitivity to it, though.” Sebastian’s musings do nothing to bring you reassurance. If anything, it just makes you want to hide. If the universe is truly kind, a sinkhole will emerge from nowhere and swallow you whole. Yes, that sounds lovely right now. 

Instead, the universe is sick, because what else could explain Sebastian telling you, 

“If it’s relief you need, I’d be happy to help.” 

Sebastian is many things to you — a dear friend, a confidant, a literal partner in crime — but none of those things involve him having sex with you, even if the offer only came from some odd sense of duty. 

And that’s what this is, isn’t it? He probably feels indebted to you since the fifth-year. Maybe even anxious, too. You could expose him at any given moment, and maybe that’s why he’s been so keen on attaching himself to your side ever since. This is a humiliating predicament to be in, and Sebastian doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell — considering that you don’t even know the names of girls he’s been with before is evidence. 

Besides, you’re only feeling incredibly needy for one person. You can accept his offer, but you’re certainly not going to let him know the truth: that only he is the one who can help you. 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” His cool hand is now cupping your face, thumb brushing against your cheekbone in an almost gentle manner. Sweet Sebastian is making an appearance, perhaps to try to put you at ease. You like this Sebastian. “Just let me take care of you.” 

When the haze of lust clears from your sex-addled mind, the rush of consequences will burden and crush your very conscience. 

Fortunatenly enough, consequences are clearly the last thing on your mind.

It would appear that the only thing you can truly focus on is Sebastian and what his idea of ‘taking care of you’ is. 

The Sebastian staring greedily at you is an unfamiliar Sebastian. You’ve become accustomed to the many variations of himself: Angry Sebastian, who says the most vile things out of spite and usually misguided anger; Remorseful Sebastian, who is quick to grovel (he’s quite good at groveling, really) and wants nothing more than to be back in your good graces; Happy Sebastian, although there are variations upon this very variation — the trick to seeing whether he’s pseudo-happy or not is all in his smile (the fake one is eerily perfect, the real one is crooked and a rarity). This Sebastian, though…

Hungry. 

The word doesn’t quite explain the dark glint in his eyes or the way his hands are almost reverently stroking your body. Your skin felt so, so hot just a few minutes ago — then again, just a few minutes ago, you still had your school jumper and blouse neatly intact. Now, you’re laid practically bare, prey to Sebastian’s more-than predatory gaze. 

If the two of you weren’t such great friends, you might have had enough sense to be scared.

The only articles of clothing left to protect your dignity and shield you from his eyes are your skirt (which is already riding up to expose your thighs due to his wandering hands), your white cotton panties, and the matching bra. 

“How do you feel now?” He asks, and you want to tell him you’re still feeling embarrassed, but his hands feel surprisingly nice on your skin, and you can’t help but hunger for more. Perhaps the look in his eyes, the one you couldn’t quite find a proper name for, is the same look you’re giving him. 

“More.” You whimper out, not caring if you sound selfish or impatient. This is awful. The two of you should put a stop to… To whatever the hell this is! This is a horribly unbecoming, unsavory situation you are in, and if things progress like how you think they are going to (how you want them to), then you’re both dead once all the adults find out. Professor Weasley would probably force the two of you to be wedded within the next day of her finding out, not to mention that the headmaster would probably have the both of your heads on sticks.

But you don’t tell him to stop because your rational thought is slipping, much like your bra. You’re viewing everything almost as if in a trance, almost as if this is happening to someone else and not you. But it is very much you; it’s your nipples hardening after being exposed to the cool air of the infirmary. It’s your bra that Sebastian tosses to the side. He’s licking his lips, eyeing the expanse of skin that has been revealed to him. In ordinary circumstances, you’re certain you would make all attempts to cover yourself up and try to regain some sense of modesty.

In these circumstances, you practically arch your back and mewl out for more, more, more.

More touching. More skin-to-skin contact. More of Sebastian. You want him. All of him. Every part of him. You want his cock ramming into your cunt, you want his hands wrapped around your throat, his mouth spewing out words of filth right into your ear. Most importantly, even though all you can seemingly focus on is having him ravish you, you can’t help but to be greedy and dare to hunger for more. You want his secrets — all of them. You want to know the nightmares that plague him, and whether he’s full of regrets, just like you. You want to have a claim to his soul, just like how he already has a claim to yours. You want to know that when his heart beats, it is calling out for you. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He announces, like he’s waiting for you to protest. He’s not directly asking, but the question is still there, as is the warning. Can I kiss you? If you let me, there’s no going back. 

“Please.” You whimper, completely and entirely at his mercy.

“Say it.” Sebastian swallows hard, almost as if he’s also nervous and too charged up with desire. His fingers are loosening his tie. He has already shrugged off his robes. 

He doesn’t tell you want to say, but you already know what he wants to hear. The words have been resting on the tip of your tongue this whole entire time, anyway. 

“I want you to— to kiss me, and more…” You look into his eyes. The lights in the infirmary make them appear a lighter color than usual. “I want more. I want you, Sebastian.”

The moment the last confession slips from your soft lips, Sebastian’s mouth descends upon your own. His body is angled awkwardly, trying not to crush you with his weight, but you can feel the heat emanating from him all the same, even despite the layers of his clothing that separates the two of you. 

You think the world stops spinning when his lips slot against yours. He tastes like the pumpkin juice from this morning, sweet and refreshing. There’s a lingering taste of spearmint toothpaste. You want to keep kissing him forever. You want him to kiss you everywhere else. When breathing becomes a necessary thing, he stops. You frown. You didn’t want him to stop. Oxygen is overrated, anyway. 

He lays a hand against the pillow you’re resting on, staring down at you, want clearly displayed on his visage; desire is etched onto every facial feature, and his eyes are gazing so intently into yours, you wonder if he’s a Legilimens. 

“Promise me you won’t regret this. Swear that you truly do want this.” 

He must not be a Legilimens, then. It’s so clear you’ve been in… It feels odd to admit it. Wrong, even. But it’s the truth—

—you’ve been in love with him since the fifth year.

You don’t keep someone’s secrets, their crimes, to yourself when you don’t love them. You let him perform Cruciatus on you, and you forgave him. No — you didn’t. Because you asked him to. There was nothing to forgive. You would endure it, over and over and over again, just for him, only him. And to think, you’re flooding your panties just at some simple fantasies of him, and he has the nerve to believe you don’t want this? Don’t want him?

“I promise. I swear it to you. I want this entirely.” And maybe liquid courage had been slipped into the juice you’ve consumed as well because you find yourself admitting, “I’ve always wanted to do this with you. If it… If it had to be done the first time around, I would always dream of you doing it to me.” 

He stops breathing, just for a moment. Gapes at you, even. 

“Y-you’re a virgin?” 

You wonder if you’ve gone off and ruined the mood. You wonder if you should take it back, say you were just joking, but before you can, his lips are pressing against yours once again. This kiss is even hungrier than the last, and you’re not quite sure how that’s even possible. It’s almost as if he wants to devour you whole. 

“Thank you.” He gasps out, so close to you that his breath tickles your nose. “Thank you for entrusting me with this, love. I promise I’ll make it good for you, just as you deserve.” 

And suddenly Sebastian is just everywhere. His sweater is discarded on the floor, right next to your bra and his tie. His belt is unclasped; he hasn’t even bothered to remove it entirely, just displaced it enough to where he can unbutton his trousers, and he’s pulling it down — his pants, that is. And the briefs. He hasn’t entirely disposed of everything, just partially. Meticulous Sebastian Sallow who is now so far gone into lust and depravity that he cannot even handle wasting another second by removing himself entirely of his clothes. You have made a man into a beast.

But you see the way he’s eyeing you — all dark hair and sharp teeth. He flips your skirt up, exposing your damp panties to him, and he licks his lips again, and you realize — perhaps too late, or perhaps you’ve known all this time — that Sebastian has always been a bit of a beast. A wolf only coyly imitating domesticity. 

“You’re so wet.” He brushes a finger against your cotton-covered folds, and you shiver. 

Yes! Your body seems to cry out. More, more, more! Your back arches, keening, craving his touch. You’re soaking through the fabric, making it practically translucent. You’ve never been this wet before in your life. You’ve never wanted his touch more badly than you do now. 

“For me.” He mutters, but in the silence of the infirmary, you hear him all too clearly. “Is this all for me, love? Have you been like this all day?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to form coherent sentences. Even if he’s not staring at your head, far too fixated at what’s between your legs, he hums his approval. 

“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll make it all better.” 

He’s kissing you. He’s got your panties only pulled to one side, and you think he’s muttering apologies against your saliva-coated lips. Something that sounds awfully like sorry, so sorry, but I can’t wait, and I don’t think you can, either. You barely catch a glimpse of his cock before you can feel the sharp heat of his length against your inner thigh. You would have thought that there would be some preparation, especially since this will be your first, but you’re thoroughly soaked. You’re aching for a sensation you have never felt before, but the animal inside of your brain is telling you, instinctually, to seek Sebastian out. That Sebastian will make it all better. That’s what he said he’ll do, and he’s kissing you, and he’s apologizing, and—

—and the world stops spinning.

No. There’s some slight resistance at first, your poor cunt protesting at the intrusion. A second later, and he’s slipping in half of his length with considerably more ease. A few inches more, and his hips are pressed against yours, and oh— Oh, it’s like you’re made for him. There is no resistance. There is no pain. There’s just you and him, and your body is welcoming him home. Where has he been? It seems to ask. Please don’t ever leave again. 

“Fuuuuck.” He hisses it out, and his teeth are gritted, and he’s admiring you. His eyes flicker to your face, down to your breasts, down down down right to where the two of you are connected. The word comes out broken, and yet, drawn out. As if he’s struggling to speak. 

Then he starts thrusting, and suddenly you realize that the world hasn’t ceased its spinning. No — now it’s moving entirely too fast. It must be off its axis. You feel otherworldly. You feel like this pleasure, this overwhelming, absolutely delicious pleasure, cannot simply exist on earth. It should be impossible. It should be impossible to find comfort and rapture in the way the tip of his cock seemingly kisses your cervix. You expect pain. 

You only find mindnumbing, earth shattering pleasure.

You feel stretched beyond your limits. You hear his pants and his groans, and you’re moaning, too. Calling out his name, which is so silly, he’s right there, he’s right there. There, at that special spot, at the spot you’ve never been able to discover on your own. You now know why adults advise so heavily against these type of relations — it’s simply addicting. You don’t think you can stop; you don’t think you want to stop.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so good f’me. Such a good girl. My good girl, aren’t you?” He’s rambling. His thrusts are considerably sloppier, and you feel his thumb brush against your clit, and you arch your back some more, practically screaming out his name. The stimulation is too much — it’s not enough — and you will always crave him. “Tell me. Tell me that you’re mine.”

There’s something so, so addicting about his possession. About being treated like his possession. 

“Yours. M’yours, Seb. All—” You can’t finish your sentence. The pleasure is becoming too much, and you’re too sensitive, and he’s doing this thing, this absolutely amazing thing, where he rubs circles on your clit in tandem with his harsh thrusts, and you’re cumming. You don’t ever want to come down. 

He feels you cum, sees your juices drench his cock as he pulls out, only to push right back in, relishing in the feeling of your contracting walls. He leans down, biting on your neck, and you take a hand to grip his dark hair, still cumming, and now he is, too. Spurts of his cum are flooding into you, painting your walls, successfully staking his unrivaled claim on you. You have been compromised. If anyone were to find the two of you out, you would have no other choice but to take his hand, his ring, his family name, him. You would have to take it all.

Coming down from his high, he has enough kindness left in him to lick at the wound he’s left on your neck. Your eyes are fluttering close, the intensity of it all thoroughly exhausting you. You don’t know the thoughts swirling in his mind. You don’t sense the longing behind him stroking your stomach, wondering if the Felix Felicis — his bottled Liquid Luck he’s spent forever brewing — has done its job. It would surely be very lucky, indeed, if his seed takes this first time around. 

Your breathing slows, and he feels your heartbeat even out. You’re exhausted, poor thing. Perhaps he had been too rough.

He’ll apologize, he decides, by doing something that’ll benefit the both of you. He ought to clean you up, get you tucked in, and when you wake, he’ll go down on you. He bets you taste so sweet, so innocent. He had known, of course, that he was your first — that he was always going to be your first. Your only. 

He wonders if the effects of the lust potion will still linger in your system even after you wake up. Probably so — he did it brew it quite strongly.

But the adoration, the love, in your eyes is something no amount of skilled potioneering can create. No; your feelings for him are real. You just needed to lower your inhibitions to get to the confessional stage.

And now that you have confessed… 

Sebastian Sallow can rest well after confirming what he’s known ever since he first laid eyes on you:

You’re his.

[oceantornadoo]

hii! can you do what it would be like asking price to put pads on the shopping list?? and then when price goes shopping he has to call you to ask for what size ?? 😭😭 btw i love love your work, hope u had a good day💞.

im pretty sure you're referring to this post but i decided to make this price x reader so :) enjoy!

bsf marriage pact!price x reader, he's slightly creepy but he's sweet (this is actually a bit dubcon but its in good spirit)

you had had a shit day. actually, make that a shit week. emotional the whole time, feeling lonely, depressed, and with the weirdest cravings. right when you were about to call your best friend and rant about how terrible you felt, you had went to the bathroom and- oh.

that explains a lot.

and now here you were, sitting on the toilet for the past ten minutes, contemplating. you were completely out of all period products and your flow was so heavy there was no way you were making it to the store free bleeding or with toilet paper as a makeshift pad. of course, that's when john decided to call you (let's be real, who doesn't take their phone to the bathroom. don't judge.)

"evenin', duckie."

"ugh john, i told you not to call me that. its so annoying."

john grunted a chuckle into the phone, swiping a hand over his beard. "you love it." silence. he could practically hear your eye roll. "dinner tonight?" he was pacing his apartment, uncharacteristic for a man like him. calm, cool, collected. never when it came to you.

"can't, sorry. maybe in a few days." he grunted. "could order a takeaway?" you sighed in his ear, the sound a melody he craved to hear over and over again. on lazy saturdays and in-between small fights over laundry. baby steps, though.

"its just not in the cards tonight, john, i'm sorry." you were never like this, withholding information. even when you cancelled on him, it was with a long-winded explanation with the names of about seven people he didn't know and plans you didn't want to go to. "'s wrong, duck? got a hot date or somethin'?" he mentally crossed his fingers, not allowing a physical expression. he wasn't that whipped. not yet.

"no, im just sick. and tired." his muscles relaxed. he started putting on his boots and grabbed a fleece, something gaz insisted was not too tryhard for someone like him. "i'll run to the store and grab ya medicine, hm? what'dya need?" you sighed again, rubbing your fingers to your forehead. he obviously was not giving this up and you did really need pads...

"ill text you a list when you get there. thanks john."

"anythin' for you, duckie."

list: pads, advil, that one chocolate candy you know i like, something for dinner

shit. price had been with a woman or two, but had never had to buy her pads. of course, he'd never let it get to that stage, not when he had you to take care of. but now here he was, staring at playtex and always and what the fuck was a diva cup? he'd better call you.

"all ok, john?"

"ya didn't give me a color on your pads, duck." you giggled. of course he paid attention to the green versus orange pads.

"its pretty heavy so some of the overnight and extra daytime ones would work." silence.

"...there's numbers." your cheeks warmed. you couldn't believe you were talking about this with john of all people.

"god, john. this feels so embarrassing. so weird to talk about with you."

"why? gotta know this for the rest of my life, duckie." shit. he was referring to that night a couple weeks ago, when you confessed to him you thought you'd never find love. when he said he'd marry you in a heartbeat, just say the word. when you compromised by telling him if you were still single in two years, you'd go to the courthouse then and there. when you didn't see him turn and write the date in phone, just as a reminder.

"5, john. there should be a moon symbol or something. and then 3. should be green, i think?" he grunted an affirmation, putting the respective pads in his cart. he turned around, having said goodbye and ended the call, and was subsequently greeted by three women, staring. paused in their product selection, staring openmouthed at how nonchalant he was about buying pads.

30 minutes later he was at your place, groceries and takeaway in hand as he used his spare key to let himself in. "duck?" all quiet. he stalked through your place and noticed the light on in the bathroom. one, two, three quick knocks. "john?" "'s me. can i come in?" "no i- need you to get me something." he waited patiently. "can you go to my dresser and grab a pair of underwear. something ugly, lots of coverage." who was he to say no to a free invite to your underwear drawer?

john dropped the pads outside your bathroom door and headed to your bedroom. finding your dresser, he had to give himself a second. calm down, old man. they're all clean.

that didn't stop him from sniffing a few, reveling at the scent of your laundry detergent. he almost groaned at the scent, imagining you in them. even in the "unsexy" pairs, your curves clothed in cotton and elastic, wrapped up in a lovely package. all his.

john selected a pair with "lots of coverage", whatever that meant, and headed to your bathroom. he opened the door with ease, setting your pads down on the counter. you shrieked.

"john! im half naked, you need to knock." obviously, the sight of your bare thighs and the top of your mound peaking out was most welcome, but he was more concerned about getting you off the toilet and putting food in your belly. "jus' me, duckie. come on, show me how to do it." he gestured at the pads. he couldn't be serious.

you slowly unboxed them, taking care to cover your naked body as much as possible. even while moving slowly, your shirt still shifted and he caught glimpses of your pretty pussy. an image for another day, when you weren't in pain. he focused on your fingers, deftly putting the pad on your underwear with years of practice. he memorized how you placed the pad, ensuring it stuck to your underwear before tearing the paper off the wings and tucking them on the other side. you looked up at him and he nodded, mission complete. "thank you, by the way." he kissed your forehead, so quick you could have missed it in a blink.

"turn around, i have to put it on." he sat back on his haunches, staring. "go'on. 've gotta learn somehow." you were too tired to care, ready to devour your dinner. you missed his hungry gaze as you revealed your cunt to him, wanting even though it was covered in blood. you missed his fingers twitching as you slowly pulled on your underwear, fabric caressing your skin like he yearned to. you got up, flushed, and washed your hands, missing how he tucked his fingers in belt loops and leaned back into the wall, a move he'd done many times in his tac vest.

"thank you, john. truly." he gave you a grin under the muttonchops, all satisfied. task finished, mission accomplished. you had asked him to do this, a husbandly duty. after you dried your hands, you made a move for the door, but he stopped you with a hand to the jaw. he brushed his beard against you, feeling the shiver in your bones. his mouth hovered near your ear, accent coming out low and sultry. "anythin' for my future wife, duckie."

--

ngl this got a bit weird but i like it??? had to struggle to not lean into my simon riley weirdness tendencies as im still learning john as a character.

[favvn]

The more I think about it, the more the turbolift scene from And The Children Shall Lead is both the opposite of and bookend to the conference room fight from The Naked Time.

The obvious differences of environment and how the scenes are staged are at the forefront, of course. In The Naked Time, Kirk finds Spock alone in the conference room after he has had an emotional breakdown from the virus. In And The Children Shall Lead, Spock physically has to pull Kirk off the Bridge and into the turbolift, something that mirrors his earlier words to Kirk about the need for a captain to be unshakeable in the eyes of the crew in order to maintain command. (And if anyone in the series understands the need for privacy and control over one's countenance, it's Spock.)

Both characters are incapacitated by their emotions, Spock by the sadness and regret that the virus has brought forward and Kirk by sheer fear and anxiety made all too real by a crew that is distracted by their own fears and made unable to hear him due to illusions. Both are stuck reckoning with the very things they fear. Spock still feels such strong emotions and love in spite of his adherence to Vulcan custom. His attempts to control his emotions and reign in his human half have come to nothing. He can still be unraveled into a sobbing mess. Kirk fears that he is truly alone, unheard and ignored by his own crew, and unable to keep the Enterprise and maintain control as a result. The realization of this fear reverts him to childlike behavior, from his slouched posture and the way he folds himself inwards as if to make himself smaller, to the higher pitch of his voice. Any certainty and authority is gone from Kirk.

There is another element to Kirk's fears in both episodes in that his captaincy exists only in relation to others. Without the Enterprise and her crew, what exactly is Kirk? He holds no position or importance if one of those elements is missing. Yes, his speech about love and how it's off-limits to him speaks to the demands of the captaincy versus his need for connection and love with another person, but there is that other element of reciprocity behind it. And The Children Shall Lead shows it in a very harsh light in how each person on the Bridge either cannot hear him or ignores him.

In order to get through to Spock in The Naked Time, Kirk resorts to slapping him, with the intent that the pain ought to cause him to snap out of it (this scene is perhaps hilarious in hindsight when A Private Little War later shows that Spock must be slapped in order to leave a Vulcan healing trance. Thanks for that detail, Roddenberry ♡). It doesn't fully work until Spock hits Kirk back and knocks him over the table. The scene ends with them separated by the table between them but with Spock back to his usual self and Kirk now infected with the virus.

In And The Children Shall Lead, Spock calmly stands his ground in the turbolift and calls Kirk by three different names. Spock first says, "Captain," in his attempt to get Kirk's attention. It is Kirk's title, the rank that Kirk holds on the ship, the name of his job, the very signpost of his command. Spock calls Kirk exactly what he needs to hear, yet it doesn't break through the anxiety unleashed by the children. Spock tries again, softly saying, "Kirk" next. By this point, Kirk has lunged at Spock with his hands at Spock's throat, believing that Spock is attempting to take the Enterprise from him as other past episodes have shown (The Deadly Years especially, but episodes like The Ultimate Computer, Mirror Mirror, and The Menagerie show it to an extent). Kirk still does not hear Spock past his fears, which leads Spock to call him "Jim." This, the use of Kirk's preferred nickname, the name that only his friends have used, is what finally gets Kirk to snap out of it. The scene ends with them physically together and still in a partial embrace but both acting like their usual selves and uninhibited by a virus or induced fears. In this sense, And The Children Shall Lead's turbolift scene, the one that so many people regard as a "now kiss!" moment, is a culmination of the fight scene of The Naked Time if one recalls the repetition to "risk implosion" to do what has "never been done" and come together towards a united point.

[urdnotstxrm]

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen & Reader

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

Continuation from here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ellecdc]

Keep Growing

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

cw: friendship breakup, anxiety, emotional/mental growing pains, Remus being a supportive bf (obvi)

You let the door fall closed behind you as you entered your apartment. You felt as though your skin had been crawling all day, and even the comforting, familiar smell of yours and Remus' shared space did little to comfort you.

You unceremoniously set your work stuff down on the bench in your entryway and made for your bedroom. You were glad in a way that Remus wasn't home yet - you felt that if you had to vocalize anything at the moment that the air would leave your body for good.

You got into the shower and let the day pass through your brain. You couldn't get your friends' - or, ex-friend you supposed - words out of your head.

"I don't even recognize you anymore." She spat. "Who are you?".

Who were you? Did you recognize yourself anymore? Who were you without your best friend of five years. You'd been through so much together; finishing high school and starting at University together, helping each other move out of dormitories and shared flats.

It started off mild - you stopped enjoying spending your evenings at clubs with her and her boyfriend's friends, preferring a quiet night in. Then it became that she didn't like that you started hanging out with your childhood friends again. Then you started to notice the difference between how Remus and his/your friends spoke to you versus the way she and her boyfriend/friends spoke to you.

You thought it would be helpful to talk about it with her instead of letting it fester.

How wrong you'd been.

And now, you were best friendless. Now, you had to figure out who you were outside of that relationship.

How would that impact the rest of your life? The rest of your relationships? Where did you go from here?

You sat staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror, towel in your hair and another wrapped around your torso when you heard the front door open again. You recognized that a part of your body seemed to relax knowing that Remus was home, but tears welled in your eyes immediately realizing that you've done nothing but sit here and feel sorry for yourself.

"Hey Dove." He called from the hallway, still shedding his outer-layers off.

"Hey." You tried to call back happily, but your voice cracked. You cleared your throat and tried again.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started on supper or anything, but now you get to have a say in what we have tonight." You settled for as you pulled on your comfies.

Remus rounded the corner of your room and offered you a crooked smile as he leaned against the doorframe.

"How was your day, love?" He asks quietly.

"Fine, thank you. How was yours?" You asked as you kissed his cheek and headed for the kitchen, aiming for nonchalance.

"Dreadful." He says as he followed you.

"Awe, why?" You ask sympathetically, but he only chuckled at you.

"It was far too long spent without you, of course."

"Of course." You repeat with a soft smile.

You opened the pantry door and stared blankly. Nothing looked right, nothing felt right. What were you even doing? What were you looking for? Do you even have groceries? What things do you like to eat?

"Dove?"

You turned to look at your boyfriend who was watching you with cautious eyes.

"Hm? Sorry." You managed, looking away from him and back at the pantry when your sinuses started to sting.

"I can hear that beautiful brain of yours whirring. What's going on, my love?" He asked gently as he wrapped his arms around your middle and rested his head on top of yours.

"I don't know." You whispered, feeling a tear trail a wet path down your cheek.

"You don't know what's wrong?" He asked.

"No. I don't know anything." You huffed, sounding slightly more agitated then you had meant to. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know where to go, I don't know who I am. I don't know anything, I - I can't, I just."

Remus spun you and his hands landed gently on either side of your face as he told you to breathe.

"You're alright, my love, just keep breathing for me, okay? We can figure it out together."

"I just-" you tried again. "I feel so lost, like, I actually feel crazy - out of my mind I don't know."

Remus made a sympathetic sound as he rubbed tears from under your eyes with his thumbs. "A lot has been changing recently, hm?"

"Yes." You muttered pathetically.

"I know it doesn't feel good now, but you know that change is okay, right? You're allowed to change."

His sentence stopped you short. You didn't want to change, you wanted to be okay.

"It doesn't feel good now," he repeated, as if sensing where your mind had gone, "but sometimes changing and growing feels uncomfortable. You're gonna be okay."

You stood in his embrace for a few moments, letting his words wash over you.

"But, but what if I change so much that you don't know who I am anymore?" You whispered, finally realizing where this anxiety was coming from.

Your best friend, the person who had supposedly been there for you through thick and thin had left because you had supposedly changed. What if Remus felt the same? What if everyone decided that this new you wasn't worth it.

"Oh, my love." He cooed and began peppering your face with kisses. "Please do not worry about that."

You moaned miserably.

"Love," He said more seriously, turning your face gently to force you to look at him. "Grow as you please; if I get the privilege of getting to know you all over again, I'll do that."

An embarrassing laugh sob came out of you as you flung yourself into your boyfriends chest, still adorned with his button up from work.

It felt uncomfortable now, but you knew that Remus was right. And whichever way you grew, he’d be by your side.

[see-arcane]

One tiny thing I’ve noticed in comparing Jonathan’s early pre-Dracula doom writing versus Mina’s is that, regardless of a supernatural element being involved or not, these two are showing one of their many gender role reversals in terms of how they acknowledge Something Being Wrong.

You’ll see everywhere across media how 99 times out of a 100 it’s the girlfriend/wife in a relationship who immediately picks up Bad Vibes from a situation and voices them to a boyfriend/husband who, whether or not he got those same heebie jeebies, will either scoff or try to put on a brave nonbelieving don’t-worry-we’ve-got-this face. But with Jonathan and Mina it’s flipped. 

Jonathan suffers queer dreams and some superstitious locals at most when his Dracula Hell starts--the kind of thing protagonists, male protagonists especially, are expected to shrug off or laugh over outright--but he immediately clocks that there is something significantly wrong with his situation and he admits to feeling on the edge of a peril great enough to hope Mina gets his journal if he happens to die on this trip. 

Meanwhile, Mina is tap dancing on a tightrope of juggling the issues and anxieties of everyone around her on top of a mounting dread for why Jonathan’s gone blunt and/or silent in his letters. She doesn’t even bother with the ‘oh no, what if it’s another girl?’ cliché. She knows Jonathan, knows his head and his heart and his reality, and the one scrap of correspondence she got, that she had to get from his employer, is not her Jonathan. 

And now here’s utter uncharacteristic silence from him.

And here’s Lucy’s worries over Arthur and her returned sleepwalking. 

And here’s her forced to play Mrs. Westenra’s confidante and unofficial hired minder to Lucy while she suffers from the sleepwalking. 

All the while she writes in a tone of cautious tutting of her own anxiety. Ha ha, don’t be ridiculous, Mina. It will be fine, it will work out, keep yourself together now, don’t fall apart over such little things. Have yourself a nice vent in the diary and keep moving. Look, Lucy is looking better! And really, there’s no need to feel so uneasy about Jonathan either! Probably just trouble with the post, is all. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.

It’s just an interesting comparison to see that Jonathan, even before he was performing civility and charm to literally save his neck, clocked the Peril and Bad Vibes from the get-go and allowed himself to rattle off as much in his private writing, whereas Mina keeps herself tight-laced in her concerns even in the face of wholly mundane/realistic fears, not allowing herself to admit that emotional rawness even in her own journal. Yet.

[n7punk]

She-ra Cast Q&A (July 23rd 2024 via Streamily)

Yeah we knew I was going to do this, sorry I'm late but I was driving when it started. Quick summary of the questions and answers, not exact quotes so if you have more questions about something, watch the VOD. Shouldn't be hard to find since these are listed in chronological order.

Guide:

Q: Not-so-average-fangirl (host)

ND: ND Stevenson (showrunner/writer)

A: Aimee Carrero (Adora VA)

AJ: AJ Michalka (Catra VA)

K: Karen Fukuhara (Glimmer VA)

ND was sick for the stream so take his answers with even more grains of salt than usual (I love you Nate but I also know when you're joking and it's often).

Right off the bat, no major announcements except ND teasing he has a passion project book coming out next year with other things in the works.

Q: What influenced your changes to the original SPOP characters (for ND)?

ND: Fell down a lot of rabbitholes on fansites and such, conclusion was it was the gayest show he had ever seen. "This is so gay, I have to make this gay, it wouldn't be true to the original if it wasn't gay." Wanted to bring in a new take and a new world.

Q: How did it feel playing Adora in the first few episodes versus the last few (for Aimee)?

A: In the first few episodes she always feels like she's seconds from being hired (own anxiety, recording environment was very comfortable). Fell in love with the character and the story, ending was really bittersweet to not have last forever.

Q: Since Catra is your first "villain" role, is there anything you learned that you would use in future villain roles (for AJ)?

AJ: Voice placement (villains talk lower, more raspy trying to seem more intimidating). Pulling anger or hurt into her body when going into a session otherwise relaxed. Would workout beforehand or clench her muscles to help introduce to stress to her voice.

Q: Was there something from your previous serious roles you pulled in for Glimmer (for Karen)?

K: Liked that Glimmer was a lighter/fun role, her voice sat well for her. Previous roles might have helped for when she was going through her identity crises.

Q: If you could hangout with your character for one day, what would you do?

ND (Spinnerella): Girls day, coffee, sailing (wind for the boat), she's the most normal person on the show so easy to talk (A/N: THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT ND VOICED SPINNERELLA??).

A (Adora): Thinks Adora wouldn't like her (she's cool even if Aimee didn't play her cool). Interests don't align, maybe finding something more atheltic and crafty. (Q suggestion: A could bake and Adora could eat - Aimee loves.) Could have Adora build her something.

K (Glimmer): Would love to explore the kingdom with her, hang out with her and Bow now/a few years down the line.

AJ (Catra): Take her to Disneyland. Would be intimidated by Catra but it would be a nice icebreaker. Rides, junkfood, meeting princesses (Catra would pretend she didn't like it but actually enjoy it).

Also, the first of many mentions of the cast wanting to do a She-ra movie, ND said "already working" on a script but in a joking way, clearly not an announcement and just something he wants to do.

Q: Which scene got you the most emotional while writing/recording?

ND: Finale. Culmination of all the characters' arcs but also the crew's arc. Knew it was the last time they would be doing many things. Co-worker asked if the characters had said that they love each other, ND searched scripts and realized they hadn't, so incorporated the pitch into the finale. It was the crew's way of saying it to each other as well.

A: Emotional often while recording. (First of many pitches for Aimee wanting to be in everything Nate writes because his writing is so amazing). No stars in the sky, Angella staying behind convo in the portal, the finale.

AJ: "I love you, I always have" (will come up again later). Also when Shadow Weaver dies, she was so hard on Catra but she's still the closest thing to a mother figure she has.

K: Angella's death and when Glimmer admitted her mistake to Bow and Adora later on. (Also Karen cried watching AJ's confession scene).

Q: What do you think Catradora's space roadtrip experience would be if they took a trip to Earthe (for ND)?

ND: (This answer is all jokes) Wearing a dad hat, Catra gets in fights. Also Disneyland.

A: Bermuda shorts and sandals situation for Adora, no SPF and sunburned. Intense dad energy on a roadtrip. Interrogating about Dorito shells at Taco Bell without knowing what a shell or Dorito is.

AJ: Catra deciding to crash a movie premeire in Hollywood without even really knowing what a movie premiere is.

K: Go to all the food spots in LA.

A: Adora going through the drive-thru over and over ordering different numbers on Swift Wind.

Q: Did you apply any techniques you learned from voice acting into singing (for AJ)?

AJ: Singing since a little kid, feels like she's solid there, but voice acting requires a lot of front voice and stamina.

Q: If you could write a spin-off series for a side character who would it be?

ND: Double Trouble (shapeshifter bias). So many parties to crash, nobles to impersonate. Spy drama. Every persona they've ever had gets their own little spin-off.

Q: If you were in Etheria for 24 hours what would you do?

Okay AJ accidentally said she'd ride Shadow Weaver and then everybody functionally died when she was asked if she meant Swift Wind. I just have to mention that.

AJ: Ride Swift Wind first because Catra has never been on a horse and AJ is a horse girl.

(ND and AJ both said Catra would love it).

A: Wants to explore Glimmer's room and play dress-up.

K: Get ready for the prom together in Glimmer's room.

ND: Explore the First Ones' ruins and press all the buttons. Act like an urban explorer and then get killed by spiders.

Q: If Adam had been in the show, how would you have approached his character (for ND)?

ND: Would have changed everything in the show because there's somebody she would have a sibling bond with and be looking for her family. Sees this version of Adora as an alternate reality, but if they were both together, would be chaos twins. Push all the buttons, etc.

Q: During White Out, what would Floppy Adora and Catra's interaction have looked like?

A: The world's worst drunk voicemail you've left for an ex, so cringey you can't even write it (A/N: she's so real for this). Profess her love but then barely speak real words.

AJ: The night would end in laughter, and then tears, and then laughter, etc. Glad it didn't happen because it would happen too early.

ND: Show would have been over at that point because of what she said.

Q: If Glimmer was only limited to three places on our Earth, what spots would she choose and why (for Karen)?

K: Japan (to visit grandma), NYC (Karen might move there, she's going to try to see Aimee there next week), Turkey (to go in a hot air balloon. (A/N my interpretation was the 'she' was supposed to be Glimmer but Karen interpreted it to mean her and the host seemed to agree).

Q: Would AJ and Aimee ever consider doing a duet together?

(AJ made this :D face immediately)

A: I would be so nervous to sing in front of AJ I couldn't even speak.

AJ: Aimee has a beautiful voice and would love to duet with her. They're friends, no need to be nervous.

A: Would still need a little liquid courage, was thrilled to be in the "Blue Dress" music video for Aly & AJ.

AJ: Wants to do a three-way duet with Catra, Adora, and Glimmer.

Q: Of all the scenes that got cut, what are the ones you most wish you'd gotten to include? (A/N: Tippen you made it!)

ND: Nothing made it to animation, maybe boards at most. Couldn't think of anything, but prank they pulled by replacing the final line in the finale after the camera pans up from the Best Friends Squad group hug with "Did we ever find out what Grayskull is?". Showed it to their exec as a prank and got super attached to it but couldn't keep it. (A/N: ND posted a video of this on Twitter awhile back, see it here. Thanks tempusername24!)

Q: What are character interactions you'd like to see that you didn't get to do?

Karen (AJ same): Catra getting to be friends with Bow and Glimmer, Catra and Glimmer explore the world together.

AJ: Catra would love to teleport once she's used to it, loves Glimmer grabbing her and going somewhere spontaneously.

ND: Bow and He-man.

Glimmer is based on Nate's first DND character who misused Misty Step a lot!

Q: What was your reaction to the glimbow confession (for Karen)?

K: Super surprised, none of them knew glimbow/catradora/etc were going to be a thing, suspected and shipped it, but was super excited.

N (adding): Karen asked him when reading the script if she should read it romantically or not.

Q: What was your reaction to the new She-ra transformation in S5 (for Aimee)?

A: Thought she was hot already, loved the redesign/glow-up, the jawline, still love it now.

Q: Has anything from the show affected/inspired your music (for AJ?)

AJ: (Never thought of it before) There are times she feels she's in the shadow of her sister but playing Catra gave her a newfound confidence in herself as a performer.

Karen had to leave at this point, but the girls want the next signing August 17th to be a pajama party if they can swing it. (Also if you had any doubts this stream was geared towards the adult fans, Karen promoted her show The Boys when prompted before leaving).

Q: What was the hardest part about writing Adora (for ND?)

ND: Keeping the balance of the friendship and tension for all the characters. People thinking Catra might be too far gone to be redeemed and executing her "apology tour".

Q: As creatives, how do you process the heavy feelings when a project comes to a close?

A: Every project has a depression period afterwards, the "post show blues" (A/N: girl I know what you mean). Keeping up with the other people on the show is all you can do.

AJ: Second, there's nothing you can do but maintain those friendships and hope for another installment/reboot down the road.

ND: Everything for 5 years for him was She-ra, even when sleeping. Jarring when it was over. Really hard, tried to make peace with moving forward to something new and passing on the baton.

Q: What is your favorite line from a character you've voiced (for Aimee)?

A: Hard for her to remember quotes, was reminded of the line "You're worth more than what you can give to other people" (A/N: not a line from Adora but a good line regardless).

AJ: "I love you, I always have" because it's Catra being honest and throwing it out hoping for Adora to catch it.

ND: Playing Netossa/Spinnerella fight with nephew at his request, ND was playing Netossa because he didn't know ND voiced her, ND did the possessed Horde Prime line from Spinnerella and he screamed and hid in a closet. Unlocked the concept of voice actors for him and not he loves quizzing ND on it.

Q: What do you envision for Catradora's post-canon space adventures (also did Adora change clothes).

(All the clothes answers were jokes but sleeveless tops and a perm for Adora and a fanny pack for Catra so she can carry sunscreen for Adora).

A: Like that they've aged, that they'll find joy in the more mundane aspects of life and they may not be worthy of a movie but she likes that little moments that make up a life for them.

AJ: Same. Enjoying life as friends and lovers.

ND: They deck out the ship (airbrush a wizard on the side, shag carpet and mood lighting, the joke answers aren't done lmao). Fun field trip, being touristy, extremely low stakes shenanigans and then going on missions. Would collect tons of souvenirs as they travel from planet-to-planet.

What are you working on / What did She-ra mean to you?

AJ: On sabbatical except for writing music. Grateful for Catra and the depth of writing on the show.

A: Filming Our Friends and Neighbors. Same as AJ, also going to pester ND to play more characters for him.

ND: (got teary) She-ra transformed entire life, so grateful for everything the viewers invested into it. Book coming out next year that is a long-time passion project but not announced yet, other various things he can't mention right now.

Aimee joked with Nate that he needs to get back to work to get them all into the Academy Awards when talking about Nimona's nomination.

Upcoming signings:

Karen, AJ, and Aimee are on August 17th via Instagram (A/N: originally they said a different date for Karen and reports have varied from fansites but these are the upcoming events listed on the She-ra Streamily collection as of 24/07). ND has a TBD date pending as well.

[inkdemonapologist]

My BatDR Take That Used To Be Hot But I Left It Out On The Windowsill To Cool So You Should Be Able to Eat It Now Without Burning Your Tongue

its not actually that hot, is what im saying

Anyway my BatDR hot take is that BatDR's story is not fundamentally worse than BatIM with one exception; an exception that, for BatIM, covers a multitude of sins:

BatIM has a theme.

I can't presume the intentions of the creators, but if I had to write an essay on the themes in BatIM, it wouldn't be hard to pick one out: the cost of obsession, or even just, the ruin Joey brought on the studio. In the very first chapter, Henry asks "Joey, what were you doing?" and every single thing in the rest of the game revolves around that central question: what WAS Joey doing? Each audiolog is a snippet of the studio's path to this messed up state; each character you meet is someone ruined by Joey. The major antagonists echo Joey's flaws -- obsession with Bendy as more than a cartoon, obsession with perfection, obsession with fame and greatness and legacy -- but even without that, they're also each a picture of how the lives of people caught in the path of Joey's dream were ruined by it. Bertrum, for example, doesn't match the concept of rubberhose cartoons, but as yet another person screwed over by Joey, he fits the central question of the story, so he feels like he belongs here. Ultimately, in a narrative sense, the Ink Demon isn't the story's monster -- Joey is; the Ink Demon is just the consequence of his reckless ambition.

But what's the theme or central question of BatDR?

You can... try to pick out a theme. There's some promising options, because it feels like the story WANTED a theme, stating its emotional intentions more overtly -- "there's always a choice" to leave the darkness and chose hope; family and the struggle of living in a heavy legacy's shadow; or even just good old mewtwo-brand The Circumstance's Of One's Birth Are Irrelevant, It Is What You Do With The Gift Of Life That Determines Who You Are.

I think, even WITH the clumsy execution of Joey's "arc" and Audrey's lack of real choices, any of those could work about as well as BatIM. But unlike BatIM, the majority of the game doesn't tie in. Joey's tour can be considered relevant -- a picture of the family legacy and the "darkness" that Audrey doesn't yet know she's inheriting -- but like, the audiologs and hints and environment of BatDR are mostly teasing the question of What Is Gent Up To, and the takeover of Gent is detached from Audrey's choices, her family, her legacy, and Gent never really becomes a relevant threat to those things in this game. The Cult of Amok and the Ghost Train have nothing to do with any of these ideas. It might've been neat if Audrey had ever considered, "Did my father really drive all these people insane?", a hint of actually having to wonder about the darkness in her past. Even Wilson only barely brushes against these concepts; he doesn't like Joey and he also is trying to escape his family's heavy legacy, but it doesn't really reflect on his actions and we don't find that last part out until he's about to be dead.

There's also the question Wilson poses of "real" people versus ink creations, and what counts as valid "life." It would be an interesting theme with a lot to build off of in this setting, it ties into Wilson more as Wilson seems to represent the opinion that Inky Things Aren't Really Alive, which could've tied to Audrey (as an ink-person who has yet to accept that part of herself) and maybe given Wilson a reason to think it's fine to sacrifice her, it could've even tied to Gent (who don't even seem to value human life) -- but after Wilson asks the question, it doesn't tie into the direction things go. He smooshes a little Bendy, we see hints of his disregard for Betty, and then everyone continues with their plan to destroy the Ink Demon without any further moral quandaries about inky life.

The thing is, when you compare an element like, say, audiologs, there's a lot of differences you can point to -- but I don't actually think Lacie Benton's audiolog is notably better, taken on its own, than Grace Conway's or Kitty Thompson's, and yet tons of people were intrigued enough to flesh out Lacie. None of them are big plot points or compelling characters on their own; Lacie and Grace both give us a little note on what it's like working in the Studio, and Kitty shares a little bit on how Gent's expansion is affecting people. But when Lacie talks about Bertrum trying to make a creepy animatronic, that ties back into Joey's ill-fated schemes that are the point of the whole story. The question we're asking through the whole game is "what happened here?" so the fandom is interested in who Lacie is and what her life was like and extrapolates a whole person out of a couple sentences. But that's not the question in BatDR -- what has Wilson done to the Cycle and the Demon? Why? Who is Audrey really, and why is she here? Telling us new things about the Studio's fate seems strangely irrelevant to those questions, just an attempt to create a Mystery To Speculate On like the previous game did... but what question you're asking and how it fits into your story's main theme, like, matters. I absolutely believe that one clock animator guy would've been in EVERYONE'S crew if he'd been introduced in BatIM, but the context makes a difference; fleshing him out feels less relevant here.

The explanations of how and why Wilson did everything he did are baffling and handwavey, but in and of itself that's not a worse problem than anything else in the franchise -- I STILL don't understand why the Ink Machine needs pipes in the walls or even how it works, there's no good reason for Sammy to believe the Ink Demon will "set him free," most of Alice's motives don't make sense, etc etc etc. But the thing is that in BatDR, the wibbly bit is the closest thing to a central question we have! Wilson, what were you doing? The theme doesn't really explore or connect to that question, so the explanations that are finally tossed our way feel lacking in a way that BatIM's handwaved elements don't. There's a lot about Joey's motivation in BatIM that we can't know, but the heart of it resonates -- Joey wanted something, he was willing to exploit people to get it, and he became obsessed and prioritised that dream at any cost. We'll weather a thousand logistical inconsistencies if it's got heart.

But all of that said.... to be honest, I don't think Lacie overtly fits that theme anyway. Even, like, Sammy is iffy -- we don't really know what happened to him, only that he didn't used to be made of ink and worship Bendy, and now he does. We assume Joey's nonsense had something to do with what happened to him (though the books later assert his influence was indirect at best), because when there's a pattern, we can fill in the blank. So many fan creators found a place for Lacie, Grant, and Shawn in the cycle as butcher clones or lost ones, so many people imagined that Wally must be the Boris we meet, because that would've fit the pattern, the idea that the point of what we're seeing is the downfall of the studio. It's not actually that BatIM did a great job tying everything together -- it's that BatIM gave us a compelling idea and that was all it took to make everything else SEEM like it could find a place to fit. This is what I mean when I say BatIM's theme covers a multitude of sins. There's a LOT of characters in BatIM that don't make sense. There's a lot of inconsistencies and things that just sort of happen without any real reason. Characters don't really have "arcs" so much as different states they happen to be in at different times. But because there's a central question and the story doesn't wander away from it, our pattern-loving human brains will slot in all the pieces and do all the work to make the story feel at least somewhat coherent.

The things that happened in BatDR aren't a whole lot less coherent than BatIM imo, they just don't tie into a bigger theme or any of the questions the story's asking, making "how do they fit into all this" feel irrelevant, making it easier to forget entire sections and harder to get invested in audiolog characters. I think a lot of the other criticisms people have for BatDR's story are very valid, but I also suspect that if BatDR had a more successful theme/central question, then a lot of its flaws would be easier to overlook -- just like BatIM.

[nakylvr]

Hi can I request a Daniela from katseye with fem reader where she has a crush on the reader but thinks that she’s dating one of the other girls. Like with angst but a happy ending. Also I love your work!!

why yes of course 😋 i love daniela so much and this is a great req thank you so much!! 🫶 i think i got a bit carried away, sorry!

— MISCOMMUNICATION

daniela avanzini (katseye) x fem!reader

summary: daniela has a crush on you but thinks you're dating one of the other girls, which causes some miscommunication between you two leaving you both confused

warnings/tags: language, angst with a happy ending, they both are dumb and oblivious, wingwoman lara cause she's a real one, lots of miscommunication, none of them are idols just a group of bffs

wc: 3.5 k

main masterlist | katseye masterlist

daniela wasn't the best at talking about her feelings. to be more specific, romantic feelings. she could discuss her normal feelings but as soon as romantic emotions were brought up, she would be unable to say a word. when she had a crush it was only worse, leading her to not even wanting to discuss anything love related while she had feelings for someone else. she wasn't scared, exactly. for she didn't know what she was feeling. it was hard for her to understand.

daniela has had a crush on you for some time now. she knew she did from the very beginning, she just tried to ignore it, believing it would go away if she didn't think about it. that didn't work. because the more she was around you, the harder she fell for you. you were close with all the girls including daniela, but there was a slight problem that kept daniela from saying or doing anything. 

she genuinely thought you were with sophia. 

you and sophia had known each other prior to meeting the other girls, and you two were extremely close, practically acting like a couple whenever you two were together. while daniela never heard any official words like the two of you saying you were dating or saw any quick kisses of any sort, she thought it anyway. you two were always together, called each other loving petnames, and did pda that neither of you would do with anyone else. so, she suffered in silence alone for a while. 

it was rough for daniela, especially when all the girls hung out together. she would stare from afar with sad eyes whenever you were with sophia, because in her mind she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance, so she didn’t bother even trying. she kept her feelings inside, dwelling on them alone instead of talking about them, even with the other girls who she knew would undoubtedly support her. she kept it a secret the whole time, nearly wanting to die in the process the more she was around you. 

you two were close, but not as close as she wanted. you didn’t know that, though, for she never once showed those kinds of feelings towards you. you thought she purely saw you as a friend, and while you weren’t completely okay with that, you didn’t say anything that could change everything. 

the silly thing was, you had a crush on daniela for nearly the same amount of time as hers on you. however, you didn’t realize how your closeness with your best friend sophia could be seen to other people, looking like a couple when both of you agreed you would probably kill each other if you were actually dating. this caused some problems that you didn’t notice. you failed to notice the few signs daniela showed that expressed she liked you. you didn’t notice the longing stares while you were talking with others, you didn’t notice her trying to initiate more serious conversations or physical touch with you, and you didn’t even notice the difference in the way she looked at you versus the others. but, she also failed to notice yours. 

there were a few conversations you two had that almost led to confessions but something would happen which resulted in it never coming out. there was one specifically that made daniela think that maybe just maybe she would have a chance. 

you were sitting on the couch at lara’s house, looking at your phone as you scrolled aimlessly on instagram. all the girls were there to hang out and have fun, but you had been exhausted recently and didn’t want to get caught up in the usual loudness that happened when you all hung out together. so, you were sitting there on your phone, not noticing daniela looking over at you for a decent amount of time before she eventually walked over to you. 

“hey,” is all daniela says to you. 

you look up from your phone to daniela and a small smile forms on your face. “hey,” you say in return. 

there’s an awkward silence that fills the air between you two, and you both can feel it but are too scared to do anything about it. 

“you okay? you’ve been sitting here alone for the past like, hour,” daniela speaks again, a faintly worried expression on her face. 

“mm,” you hum, shrugging your shoulders. “i’ve just been exhausted i guess,” you admit. “but, i didn’t want to not hang out, so i still came.” 

daniela takes the seat next to you, leaning back into the couch as she glances over at you. “has something been happening? or do you just mean in general?” she asks. 

“just in general,” you answer, putting your phone down next to you. “life is kinda a lot right now.” 

“i get that,” daniela nods, agreeing with your words. she doesn’t know what else to say, struggling to find the words just from sitting next to you. she has never felt more awkward around someone else in her whole life, and she wished the ground would just swallow her up so she wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. daniela feels a sudden weight on her right shoulder, and she glances over to see you resting your head on her, making her eyes slightly widen and her cheeks flush pink. her whole body freezes and she isn’t even sure if she’s breathing at this moment. 

“i’m really grateful to have you around, y’know,” you say quietly, but loud enough for only her to hear. 

daniela’s face heats up more at the barely audible words coming from you, and she swears her heart is going to beat out of her chest if you say anything else remotely like that. “i’m grateful too,” she says slowly so she doesn’t stutter or show how nervous she is. 

you reach for one of her hands and hold it in yours, cherishing the warmth of her skin radiating onto yours as you talk again. “i hope we can be around each other for a long time, dani. i would really like it.” 

daniela is sure she’s going to pass out any moment now. with your hand now holding hers and the words leaving your mouth, the nickname she only lets you use, she was definitely going to. “i-i would like that also,” she replies, mentally cursing at herself for stuttering like a loser. she can feel your breathing change as you lean against her, and when she looks down at you for the second time, she realizes you’re asleep. her eyes go wide again and her face turns even redder when she realizes this, and she’s not sure what to do as she sits on the couch. 

daniela looks over at manon who is already looking at you two with a grin plastered on her face and phone out facing you both to take a picture and she mouths ‘what do i do?’. manon simply shrugs, taking the picture and giving a thumbs up to daniela. “i dunno, but you got this!” she says encouragingly. 

daniela rolls her eyes at manon’s response and watches her walk away back to where the other girls were. she looks down at you again and lets out a short sigh. “i guess i’m staying here,” she mumbles to herself. 

unfortunately for daniela, you never spoke of that conversation after it happened. she thought maybe she pushed it too far even if it wasn’t that big of a push, and so she started avoiding you. she didn’t respond as fast to your text messages, she wouldn’t look you in the eye when you were hanging out with the girls, she would make up excuses to leave so she wouldn’t have to talk to you. she thought she fucked up if you didn’t want to talk about that moment of sincerity between you two. 

meanwhile you had thought you did something wrong if it meant daniela started avoiding you. you had thought you made her uncomfortable with your words that day and that that’s the reason she was avoiding you, so you didn’t do anything. you didn’t confront her about it, too scared that she would admit you made her uncomfortable and didn’t want to talk anymore. there was an even worse awkwardness between you both that all the girls immediately noticed and decided to try and help the best they could. 

“what if we did something to make daniela jealous?” manon suggests to the other girls. 

“would that even do anything?” megan responds. “i’ve never seen her get any type of jealous.” 

“maybe not jealous, but she stares like a kicked puppy whenever yn and sophia are together,” lara says. 

“i could try something,” sophia speaks up. “yn and i are already close, so i’m sure if i did something extra it would make her jealous.” 

“is this a good idea?” yoonchae pipes in. 

“possibly not, but i can’t stand this miscommunication between them any longer,” lara replies. 

“agreed,” they all say. 

so, later that night the girls brought (forced) you two to attend a party with them. daniela was standing in a corner with lara, looking as if she wanted to die inside just being at the party while you were talking with sophia on the other side of the room. 

“lighten up a bit, daniela! this is a party,” lara says to daniela over the loud music. 

“i’m not having fun,” daniela responds in a blank tone. she takes a glance around the room, not noticing the hand signal lara gave sophia while you’re back was turned, and when daniela’s eyes land on you and sophia, they narrow into a glare. 

sophia has an arm wrapped around your waist, leaning close to whisper something into your ear and you laugh, gently shoving her as she presses a quick kiss on your cheek. daniela feels a mix of anger and sadness as she watches unaware of the other girls trying to see what will happen. she misses lara doing another hand signal of sorts to sophia who decides to go to plan b after seeing daniela do nothing. sophia’s arm remains around you as you two talk, and she pushes some of your hair out of your face and turns so her head is blocking your face, making it appear as if you two are kissing but in reality, she is still just normally talking to you. however, what daniela thought she saw made her immediately start stomping off in a random direction somewhere to get out of the house. 

you catch daniela storming off out of the corner of your eye and quickly tell sophia you’ll be right back before hurrying after daniela who made her way outside of the house onto the porch. 

“hey!” you call out, following behind her. “are you leaving already?” 

daniela stops in her tracks as soon as she hears your voice, and she simply just nods her head. 

“why?” you ask when you reach her, standing in front of her. 

“i didn’t even want to come,” daniela answers. “why did you even follow me?”

“what?” you let out in response to her question. “because, you looked angry and i wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

daniela scoffs and shakes her head. “just go back to sophia. don’t worry about me,” she says. 

confusion grows on your facial expression at her words, not sure where this is suddenly coming from. “what are you talking about?” 

“nothing,” daniela shakes her head again, her eyes not even meeting yours. 

“no, you don’t get to do that,” you say in a more serious tone. “you don’t get to just say ‘nothing’ after avoiding me for weeks. what is going on?” 

“nothing,” daniela repeats. 

you bite your tongue from saying something you don’t want to say, and instead just nod your head. “fine, then,” you say, making daniela finally look at you. “fine. i won’t bother trying anymore. you won’t tell me why you’re avoiding me, so i won’t try. i don’t even have a general idea why you’re acting like this but, do what you want. just…just leave me alone unless you’re going to apologize.” you finish, letting out a sigh and shaking your head before starting to walk back to the house. 

daniela stands in silence as she watches you walk past her, and she reaches her hand out and grabs your arm. “yn, wait!” she says quickly. 

“don’t bother, daniela,” the scoff you let out matches hers that she did earlier in the conversation that makes daniela want to cry. you pry your arm out of her grip and walk back inside the house. 

daniela stands outside for a few minutes in silence, before mumbling curses under her breath and hitting herself on the head for what she did. “fucking stupid, stupid, stupid,” she mutters to herself.  

needless to say, that plan didn’t really work. in fact, it made things worse between you two. the girls realized it the day after when they all went to hang out and you and daniela didn’t even say hello to each other. they knew then that their plan didn’t work and they instead fucked it up more. the girls didn’t know how to fix this. there was a tension in the air whenever you and daniela were in the same room, and it was evident neither of you were going to talk to each other anytime soon. 

it wasn’t until daniela was talking with lara one day that she was told you weren’t dating sophia, and she was shocked needless to say. it’s also when daniela realized just how badly she had fucked up. 

“y’know, if you have a crush on her you should just say it,” lara says to daniela, sitting next to her while on her phone. the two were in lara’s room and daniela had finally just admitted that she had a crush on you, to which lara was trying not to react too much to make it like she didn’t know even though it was incredibly obvious. 

“i can’t do that! are you crazy?!” daniela immediately responds in an exclamation. “she’s with sophia, why on earth would i confess if she’s literally dating someone else?!’

lara looks up from her phone and at daniela with a confused look on her face. “what?” she asks. there was no way daniela thought you were dating sophia, right? 

“i’m not going to ruin the friendship i already have with both of them because my dumbass caught feelings for someone who’s already in a relationship!” daneiala says, throwing her hands up in the air and slouching back against the couch. 

“wait, wait, wait. stop right there,” lara waves her hand from side to side and puts her phone down. “do you think yn is dating sophia?” she asks daniela seriously. she wanted to slap some sense into daniela right now for how dumb she was to think you were dating sophia, but she resisted it and kept it to questioning her instead. 

daniela looks back at lara with confusion on her own face at the question. “yes?” she answers, it coming out as a question. “they are literally together all the time and call each other all those lovey-dovey names and shit!” 

“oh my god,” lara tries her best not to laugh out loud at the thought of daniela genuinely thinking you were with sophia, but a smile pulled on her lips. “yn and sophia aren’t dating, daniela.” 

daniela’s eyes quickly widen in surprise at lara’s words. “are you joking?” she questions. 

“no, they literally aren’t,” lara shakes her head. “sure, they basically act like a couple but no, they aren’t actually dating. they would not work out together if they did,” she lets out a chuckle at the end. 

daniela sits in silence for a few moments, trying to process the newfound information given to her. this whole time she thought you and sophia were together, just to find out you actually weren’t. this was a good thing, she tried to remain positive. this meant she could come up with a confession and hope it works out. 

so, after a week of trying to figure out what to do, she decided to finally talk to you. she tried texting you, but you didn’t respond. so she showed up at your house randomly instead. 

daniela rang the doorbell of your house, standing in front of the door with flowers in one hand and a bag of food in the other. she glanced behind her at the car which lara was sitting in the driver seat with the passenger window down watching daniela. lara gives daniela a thumbs up with a wide smile on her face, shouting to her, “you got this, girl!” which makes daniela turn back around to the door in embarrassment. she waits another minute before determining whether or not she should just leave the items and run off, but then the door unlocks and opens, and you stand there in front of her. 

“oh,” you let out in surprise at seeing her standing there. “what are you doing here? and why do you have those?” you question, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms over your chest. 

the tone in your voice makes daniela want to curl up in a ball and die right here. she can tell you’re pissed off she showed up unannounced, though technically she did text you and tell you she would be coming, whether you read it or not was another question. she’s sure you could see how nervous she was, but your expression remained blank if you did notice. “uh, well, yo-you said to leave you alone until i apologize so i’m…here to apologize,” she responds anxiously, her eyes struggling to lock with yours. 

“mm,” you hum. “fine,” you say, opening the door wider and walking back inside. 

daniela stands there for a few seconds, quickly looking back at the car behind her before hurrying after you inside. you close the door behind her and walk to your living room without saying a word, and daniela follows behind you to the couch. 

“uh i got you some food from that expensive place we got when we all went out for your birthday,” daniela says awkwardly, setting the bag of food and flowers down on the coffee table. “and the flowers because i remembered you said you liked them,” she mumbles afterwards. 

despite your initial attempt at being mad at her, the guilty look on her face and evident anxiety in her voice makes that vanish much faster than you anticipated it to. “thank you,” you say, sitting down on the couch. “you can sit, you don’t have to stand there awkwardly.” 

daniela sits down beside you as soon as you say she can, her hands resting on her knees. “i’m uh i’m sorry for avoiding you, and for making you upset with me. i…i won’t say i don’t know why i did it because that would be a lie. i know why i did it. i just didn’t ever say it because i was scared. i didn’t want you to get mad at me when i said it so i never did,” she starts, looking down at the ground. 

“okay…” your voice trails off as you listen to her. “what do you want to say?” you ask. 

daniela takes a deep breath before saying it quickly. “i’ve had a crush on you ever since we met but i didn’t say anything because the whole time i thought you were dating sophia but now i found out you weren’t and all of that was basically for nothing and i feel so stupid now.” 

she says it so fast you can barely keep up with what she’s saying, but when she’s finished your eyes are wide. “wait, you thought sophia and i were together?” you say with confusion. 

“yeah,” daniela mumbles in embarrassment. 

“so you never confessed your feelings for me because of that?” you ask. 

daniela nods her head, still not looking at you. 

you let out a quiet sigh and grab one of her hands which makes her look at you. “i forgive you for avoiding me, but you really could’ve just talked to me about it and i would’ve been honest with you. that reason being because i like you also,” you say, a small smile on your face. 

“you what?” daniela questions, looking at you with shock. “are you serious?”

“yeah,” you nod your head. “i thought you hated me or something when you started avoiding me so i didn’t bother trying to confess.” 

“oh thank god!” daniela exclaims, a smile making its way onto her face. “i was so worried the whole way here thinking you would slam the door in my face which would’ve been so embarrassing but this is so much better.” 

you can’t help but laugh at her words. “well to be honest you immediately won me over when i saw the flowers and food so,” you admit sheepishly. 

“i knew it was a good idea!” daniela says, proud of herself for coming up with it. 

“it was,” you reply. “so, now that it’s established i’m very much not dating sophia and we like each other, do you want to stay the night and we can have a little first date?”

a wide smile is on daniela’s face and she quickly nods. “of course.” 

[danyyytarggg]

my many complaints about hotd that no one asked for (i have not read fire&blood):

- isn’t there supposed to be a war going on? besides episode 4, i feel like we’ve only gotten very small snippets of war taking place. give us more snippets of war, death, despair, of the effects of this fight for the throne (besides that of king’s landing) please. even the emotions are off. i wish there was a greater sense of urgency that comes with a war being waged. i feel like jace is the only one capturing this urgency.

- going off of the first point, why isn’t rhaenyra showcasing any of this urgency? or anger? true determination? she doesn’t even do anything and then states something along the lines of “i don’t think i can win this war.” what? why isn’t she fighting tooth and nail for her throne? why isn’t she fueled with more rage that her son was murdered, her throne usurped? i’m sorry but she truly has not been doing anything except begging to go off to fight on syrax which is admirable but very much not helping. she needs to be making moves and barely any moves are being done. and then she complains about the way the others view her. i’m not a fan of her council but also you have to prove them wrong by actions not just by words, and there are no actions but plenty of words on her end.

- rhaenyra’s hesitance to do anything. i understand her hesitance for war but its just been taken way too far in the show. by continuing to paint rhaenyra in a good light by making sure she doesn’t do anything that could be seen as bad takes away from her character and how interesting it could have been.

- overall, not a fan of aegon’s characterization and while i haven’t read fire and blood, from what ive heard about his character in the book, it is infinitely better and more interesting. he’s supposed to be the opponent of rhaenyra and yet his character is very weak and almost brushed aside in favor of a more rhaenyra versus alicent front which makes me upset. i am absolutely not a fan of aegon at all. i truly wish they did not make his character the way they did as it would have been so much more interesting if they went with his book characterization instead.

- daemon. his harrenhal arc was interesting initially but has dragged on far too long. i understand that they’re trying to flesh out a character arc for him however when there are only 8 episodes and a supposed war raging on, spending so much time and energy on this arc seems like mistake when they could have spent this time advancing and fleshing out the war more. if anything, i feel as though it was purposefully done in this way in order to give an excuse to NOT flesh out the war considering the war doesn’t seem very fleshed out in almost any front except for the happenings in King’s Landing. also, he is chasing away all possible allies, which is frustrating.

- the whole “a misunderstanding started the war” is lame. the greens were already in opposition of team black way before this misunderstanding, why is it now suddenly this one misunderstanding is the driving force for what is taking place when it never was before? trying to paint alicent in a good light by making the whole thing seem like a misunderstanding takes away from her character and how interesting it could have been.

- how locationally-isolating the show has been. everything seems so isolated to driftmark-king’s landing-dragonstone-harrenhal. i wish we could see more of what’s going on in westeros

- helaena. her character is nowhere near as present or fleshed out as i would like it to be.

- the way jaehaerys’ and lucerys’ deaths feel very much forgotten. everyone got over the deaths very quickly with little mention besides the first few episodes.

- the overall reactions to rhaenys’ death was underwhelming in my opinion.

- reaction to aegon and sunfyre being injured: team black’s reaction to aegon and sunfyre potentially being dead was underwhelming and further drives the point that despite aegon being the direct opposition to rhaenyra, the writers truly do not view him as a major player at all. team green’s reaction was also so so underwhelming. this is the guy you all have been saying is the true heir to the throne, the whole driving force behind your team’s actions, ambitions, etc - and yet, there’s barely any true, substantial reaction to him being nearly killed. it’s just been overshadowed by aemond’s ambitions and the secret of aemond being the one to nearly kill him and sunfyre. also you guys are basically down a whole dragon and there’s no reaction to that?

- i’m sorry but mysaria x rhaenyra. it’s just the idea that bothers me - the writers can’t give us a proper queen!rhaenyra arc, but they can give us another rhaenyra romance. the show continues to build rhaenyra’s character around her romantic partners. without daemon by her side, i would have liked to see her come to herself and develop without a romantic partner to fall back on. instead, she has another romantic interest to fight her battles (mysaria being the mastermind behind the plans helping rhaenyra win the throne/win over the people of King’s Landing). it just makes rhaenyra seem entirely incompetent on her own.

- alicent x criston cole. i feel like the show has been putting so much attention and tension on alicent’s relationship with criston cole when i would have preferred more focus on alicent’s relationship with her children. also, for a woman who is so strongly against sexual relations outside of marriage, about duty and honor, i feel like showing us exactly how alicent x criston cole came to be is very much important for alicent’s character? instead of showing us that they’re in a relationship without any information on its progression, making it seem so out of character for alicent.

- yeah otto left but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be showing us his POV.

- the very much lack of unity in team green.

- the very much lack of unity in team black.

what i like:

- my girl alys

[d-targaryenshoe]

Dearest Triangle - Luke Thompson

Word Count: 841

Summary: What is more pleasant than talking about a show that contains you and your lover?

The lights in the studio are dimmed, and a spotlight focuses on the three celebrities perched on trendy mid-century furniture arranged in a semi-circle. 

The interviewer, a lively woman with a professional smile, introduces the interviewees.

"Welcome everyone. Today, we have an incredibly special treat. Joining us are the stars of the well-known and very popular Netflix series ‘Bridgerton."

"Luke Newton, Luke Thompson, and our very own heroine, Y/n Y/l/n, who all have kindly agreed to sit down and talk about the upcoming season."

The audience explodes with applause. You give them a gracious smile and wave while the person beside you, Luke Thompson, who is also your boyfriend, gently squeezes your hand.

The interviewer starts off, "I've watched the new first and second seasons, and it's mind-blowing. But the new trailer where we see a little bit of a love triangle, really shows the stakes are much higher, and there's so much going on in this season!"

"Absolutely, yeah, couldn't agree more!" you reply, "Just the friendship between y/n and Colin on itself, really."

"But this season, fans can expect more intrigue and emotional roller coasters. More passion, the love triangle, especially,that, is a part of the story which we all poured our hearts into." You smiled proudly, looking over the mass of fans. "For you."

The first fan question is directed at Luke Newton, by a girl that tries to contain her nerves, looking at Luke. "What's it like playing Colin, who is caught in the middle of this love triangle?"

"Well, I think Colin is just confused at this point," Luke replies, shrugging, chuckling slightly. "He's always admired y/c/n from afar, but her interest in my brother Benedict, played by Luke Thompson, over there, complicates things."

 "I believe Colin would be quite invested in this very special emotion of not knowing who you truly desire." He finishes, smiling at the girl.

The audience cheers, and a mixture of Team Colin and Team Benedict declarations ring out, causing all of you to laugh.

The next question is for Luke Thompson, a young man in his 20's. "As the more mature and serious brother, where does Benedict's heart lie in Season 3?"

He looks at you for a moment before responding, after the fans finish their cheering. "Benedict is in a difficult position, honestly. He's attracted to y/c/n, but he also respects his younger brother's feelings." He spoke.

 "But things do get more complex as the season moves forward, but I believe you all will enjoy the ups and downs of this journey." Luke smiles, as the fans begin cheering once again.

"Now, y/n, fans love your character's strength and independence. So, what do you think draws her to both brothers?" asks the interviewer.

You nod thoughtfully, "She's drawn to different qualities in each of them. Colin is charming and spontaneous, stages that the dashing man she dreams of also has." You said, running a hand through your hair.

"Then there's Benedict, who is reliable, very mature, and has wisdom beyond his years, and artistic talent as well. It's difficult for her to reconcile these two completely different appeals - but that's what makes it so exciting!" You finished, handing the microphone over to your boyfriend.

A fan then asks, "What's it more like in real life playing this on-screen love triangle versus your real-life love relationship with Luke?"

You laugh and glance at Thompson who chuckles. "It's a question we get very often, if not in interviews then when a fan notices us on the street."

"But to be honest with you, it's all professional. Both Luke and I understand the difference between acting and real. What unfolds on screen is purely fiction, and it doesn’t impact our relationship in real life, i love him with my whole heart."

"Can the same be said about me? I feel so left out, y/n" Luke Newton teases, causing all of you to erupt in laughter.

But you answer. "Yes, of course I do! Our friendship together has always been stronger than any on-screen complexities!"

The interviewer nods, turning to the audience for the final question, "Is there a message you want to deliver to our expecting fans?"

You lean forward, "For all fans anxiously waiting for Bridgerton part I on May 16th, prepare yourself for a rollercoaster ride of emotions and passion."

"We've put in tonnes of love and effort into bringing these complex relationships to life. Not just us, but also Claudie Jessie, Nicola Coughlan, Jonathan Bailey, and everyone else."

"So, dearest viewers, enjoy the show, and let us know what you think!”

Applause echoes throughout the studio as the lights dim, marking the end of an exciting session filled with laughter and anticipation for Bridgerton Season 3.

As you walk off the stage hand-in-hand with Luke, glancing at Newton who’s waving to the audience, you can only hope that you have managed to intrigue your audience enough to eagerly await the unveiling of the thrilling new season.

Sometimes, life feels just as dazzling as the world of the Bridgertons.