#‘‘you were a child’’ yes the fuck she was a child and you groomed her ahole
Note
daemon with his despicable wet bread self, rhaenyra idiotically trying to revive her youth and get the one who got away even if now it's clear that he's a clown (she forcefully makes herself feel attracted to him again instead of growing up and owning that times have changed and emo boy you used to like at 15 is not a husband material at 30, it just looks funny)
#i mean#you’re not wrong#‘‘you were a child’’ yes the fuck she was a child and you groomed her ahole#i do feel for her she was a victim of him#but if she’s gonna make excuses for him going forward even for his clown behavior#and he’s gonna be horrible and hurt others#and she burns the world down for him#then i’m gonna have a problem with her too#anti daemon targaryen#anti rhaenyra targaryen#anti daemon x rhaenyra#anti daemyra#house of the dragon spoilers#ask a gal
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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?.”
#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#sukuna smut#jjk smut#writing tag#dark content cw#incest cw#dubcon cw#abuse cw#grooming cw#<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross.#THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY
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By the way, you can say you hate characters and STILL admit that they were abused or harassed. There's literally nothing wrong. Denying it or romanticizing it because of a strange kink of yours won't make your hate any less evident, trust me.
Rhaenyra was abused. She's continuously taken advantage of, and brushed away the moment she isn't needed anymore. And she experiences this first hand with her own father, who completely ruins motherhood for her when she grows up watching Aemma get impregnated and either miscarry or have the baby be stillborn or die in the cradle. If Viserys had been by her side as a supporter to her claim since the start, he wouldn't have gotten Aemma pregnant again and again in the pursuit of a male child. He wouldn't have married Alicent for the same reason. Even after, the only reason why he still stands by her side, and it's time the fandom accepts this, it's solely because of his grief and guilt, because Rhae is the only remnant of Aemma.
And there it starts. Firstly, groomed and left alone naked and alone by her uncle in a brothel. Secondly, slept with Criston Cole (although she did coerce him, that's still a literal TEENAGER) then she's married to a gay man and still approached super young by her new bodyguard and just one year later she's started giving birth to his children. (Side note: FUCK Rhaenyra x Harwin. FUCK with reverb. With hard K.)
And up to this point, most fan agree that she's had a shitty life, although I don't agree with some of her choices. (like her treatment of Criston Cole and the bastards, not because I'm some kind of bigot, but because passing bastards as trueborn in THAT precise world sets them up for failure, not being legally deserving of a thone DOES NOT mean me hating them. That's for another post.)
To top it all off, she meets her uncle again, and there starts the fanfic self insert. They have sex on a beach the day of Laena's funeral, the only one of the three wives he's ever been canonically loyal to (FUCK you writers) and fans think it's soulmates meeting again or sum shit. They subtly threaten Laenor to fake his death or actually die (that's what they were trying to do, cope harder) and marry mere days after the death of Laena.
Yes, all cute and romantic (for Dumbnyras twats) but literally, has it done anything good? For Rhaenyra or like, anyone else? It just brought Daemon closer to the line of succession. Literally. That's all the good it has done.
Fast forward to ep 10. How do I even start with this? Only Jace seems to be on Rhaenyra's side. It's clear he only obeys to Daemon out of fear and is scared to talk back to him. Meanwhile, he COMPLETELY disregards his wife's, and by his faction's loyalties, QUEEN's, orders, he ignores her wails of pain as she miscarries their daughter out of pure shock and grief for her father's death. He lashes out and chokes her on the same day and people still see him as the malewife to Rhaenyra's girlboss. They're always ready to do award-deserving mental gymnastic to justify this man.
"He was planning war because he wanted to distract himself!!!!" "He only choked Rhae because he was mad at Viserys, he'd never hurt her!!!!!!"
Fuck off. Coming from probably Rhaenyra's #1 hater. Fuck. Off. Don't say you care about her place in the view of men when you're ready to justify shit like this.
This is the same man who runs off and has an affair with a teenager, and then prefers going on and having a badass death instead of joining his wife and children who need him in King's Landing.
Do I like Rhaenyra? No. Do I think that, because of this, she's never been abused, or exploited in any way, in her life? ALSO no. My distaste for her character has NOTHING to do with Viserys, Criston, Daemon, Harwin or literally ANYONE ELSE in her life.
Alicent Hightower time, baby.
My mother, my aunt, my grandmother, my entire bloodline, my Roman Empire. And more. To anyone who thinks of her as nothing but a bitter/jealous girl, go read @feretrumdulcia 's post about this matter cuz there's literally no one I've seen that words it better. (And bub if you're reading, long live you and the way you think.)
https://www.tumblr.com/feretrumdulcia/720746371814195200/i-have-seen-quite-often-that-many-people-consider
Anyone who can read this and argue that Alicent is envious/jealous or bitter, honestly needs to take the heart shaped sunglasses off, get off tumblr and Ao3, learn what media literacy is and start learning how to possess a crumble of it. To us it makes sense to synpathize with both, because we've seen the big picture. To Alicent, Rhaenyra gave her virtue to the man that almost killed her brother, and chose to believe she did not out of trust and maybe nostalgia for her friendship and easier times, only to have her father be blamed and taken away from her as a result.
She has four kids in the span of, how much? Five, six years? Seven at best? Helaena and Aemond are NINE MONTHS APART. Viserys didn't even let her rest after she gave birth to her daughter. And I'm convinced 100% that he kept her as Idk some whore he didn't need to pay for because it's stated that he never wanted Aegon but the son he butchered Aemma for. Why keep on bedding her and forcing children on her when you'd never get what you want from her?
Throughout the series she's called bitter and downright a c*nt for this and that reason. She tries convincing Viserys that Rhae's children are CLEARLY bastards and she's setting herself and them up for failure by committing treason and putting them on the throne? Nah, power hungry, jealous, bitter. She marries Helaena to Aegon as a last resort because she's Valyrian and probably would've received proposals worse than the ones Rhaenyra made that would eventually convince Viserys to give her away? Hates her daughter, abuser, shitty mom. Rhae's sons slit her son's eye out instead of running when they had the chance and she rightfully lashes out? Nah, crazy ass, for the dungeons. She gives money and moon tea to her son's rape victim to ensure she gets a way out and isn't forced to have a baby she doesn't want? Bruh, rape apologist. She goes to Aegon and RIGHTFULLY disciplines him? Abuser. Forced to show her feet to a rancid filthy man to know where her son is? Upholds the patriarchy, hypocrite. She convinces Aegon to start fighting for her family because it's either them or the Blacks and he needs to start putting his life together and fight for them, so she crowns him and makes him King? Treason, deserves death, long live the brothel queens.
Somehow, it is ALWAYS HER FAULT. And those few that admit how wronged she was make fun of her.
CAN SHE FUCKING WIN?! Or y'all just hate her because she isn't Valyrian?
Btw almost all of these arguments are the same for Book!Alicent who I personally believe to be FAR MORE than just a bitter stepmom that hates her stepdaughter. She arguably has more reasons to start a coup against her in the books without that prophecy shit.
TLDR; It's OKAY to hate characters and admit they're abused and taken advantage of at the same time. You don't have a moral high-ground on no one because you hate or love a character instead of the other.
#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#anti daemyra#anti daemon targaryen#anti daemyra stans#team green#team black#anti viserys i targaryen#anti larys strong
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the twinkle lights
lilac, chapter fifteen
a/n: yes that is lorelai gilmore in that moodboard and yes that scene those are screenshots from is partly the inspo for this chapter.
summary: “Yeah, sorry, it’s just a bit chaotic right now. The last of the guests just arrived and I haven’t even had time to go up and change yet. I’m still in fucking jeans.”
warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, wedding, alcohol consumption (not by reader though), fluffy phone call
word count: 2049
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
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As yet another heavy sigh flowed from your lips, you tried to force your tense shoulders to relax as you felt the steam, from the coffee cup centimetres away from your mouth, kiss your weary features.
Hidden away in the corner of the inn’s kitchen, you sat slumped on a small stool, the one usually tended for reaching the stuff in the upper cabinets. But just as you took your next sip, keeping it small so as to draw out the eventual emptiness and the fate that came with it, the doors swung open and in burst the rotund visage of Donna, all done up from the bottom of her clacking heals to the peals hanging low from around her neck.
“What’s up, sluts!” her booming voice caused your father to jump and the piping bag in his grasp to nearly slip, though the entrance didn’t affect the sheriff who leaned against the far counter. His gaze stayed directed out the window where rows of foldout chairs were half set up. The remaining bubbles in Donna’s slender, lipstick-stained glass sloshed around as her eyes beheld the towering cake standing on the central worktable. And like a child, the inebriated woman couldn’t keep her fingers to herself as she reached out and swiped her finger through one of the swirly flowers piped around the tiers, “uh! Yum!”
But before she could bring the treat up to her lips, Harvey’s hand tapped over hers as he snapped, “no! Don’t you even dare!” raising up a finger and waving it in her face as he warned, “I have been working on this all week and I will not let you ruin it the last second!”
“Urgh, Harv, you’re so uptight, darling,” she rolled her eyes then held out her champagne flute, “here, why don’t you have a little glass of bubbly to calm your nerves?”
“Donna, just–,” you could almost make out the steam that spewed out of his ears, “get out of my kitchen! The rest of the night you’re not allowed in here or else–… or else…” he rapidly lost all of his gumption as he struggled and improvised a threat, “I’ll–… I’ll have Otto arrest you!”
Clearly not paying attention at all, Otto finally turned to face the rest as he overheard his name, “huh?” he raised his cosmopolitan up to his lips and took a small sip, “did you just say something about me?”
“Hah,” Donna laughed condescendingly, “sure he is, honey,” muttering as she sashayed around the kitchen table, “that’s funny… Otto, arrest me, his best friend of nearly 40 years, that’s–, oh!” her murmuring came to a screeching halt as she rounded the cake and your obscured figure came into her field of vision, “Y/n! There you are, you naughty, naughty girl! I heard a scrumptious little rumour that you were swapping saliva with a certain lumberjack in the Lilac Inn’s very own lobby just a few days ago… so, tell me, is he as great as I’d imagine?”
Exhaling lowly, you didn’t have the energy to humour her, “I thought you said you’d help with the decorations.”
“Oh, I persuaded a few of the groomsmen to finish up the final touches for me.”
“You–, okay, alright, sure…” you begrudgingly took the last drink of your coffee and set it down on the table, “I give up.”
Turning to the small-town sheriff and causing her party dress to swoosh in the process, Donna smirked, “hey, did you see the groom’s uncle? The bald one? I heard he’s recently divorced… you wanna go hunt him down?”
With the hand not clutching his pink drink, Otto linked arms with Donna and said, “sure, why not,” before the eccentric duo disappeared out the side door that led into the garden.
With now only yourself and your father remaining in the kitchen, you puffed out a long exhale before pulling yourself up to your feet, the soles aching slightly from how much you’d been running around.
“You alright, pumpkin?” Harvey lifted his gaze from his crouched position next to the tall dessert, bending over so close that his moustache nearly touched it as he kept a close eye on the whimsical patterns he slowly decorated on the white wedding cake.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you sighed, patting his shoulder gently as you passed, “just wish I had time for a longer break… wish me luck.”
“Good luck!” he called after you before you pushed the doors to the dining room open.
The wall of noise hit you at once as you exited the kitchen, like running straight into a brick building. It was like a storm of music and loud conversations all throughout the packed inn. Willing your fists to unclench, you tried to prolong the purposely deep breaths you’d focused on just minutes before.
Casting your glance out the tall windows, you spotted a few men, half in their suits, the jackets thrown off and the cuffs rolled up, stringing up twinkle lights from one tree to another. Swiftly, your gaze travelled further down and zeroed in on the set tables before you, across the neatly folded napkins and the various names on the place cards, one of the centrepieces especially caught your tense eye. Because of the immense stress you were already enduring, the slight askew nature of the vase, of both white and pastel purple lilacs you’d cut just this morning, made you feel as if drawing in a proper breath was the most difficult thing in the world.
Rushing to adjust it, even if it was just an inch, it still managed to bring a minuscule bubble of peace to your mind, sadly one that swiftly burst when two kids stormed through the room, one of them waving a sear piece of white cloth of his head. Promptly discerning what precisely it was they were playing with, you caught them right before they managed to rush back out of there.
“Wow!” you held them by the shoulders and kneeled down to be at their level, “hey, you two,” you tried your hardest to lighten your tone, “you mind giving that veil to me?”
“No, it’s mine!” the small boy clutched it to his chest.
“Okay, uhm,” you sighed, trying not to lose your patience in front of these children, come off as some scary fairy-tale witch and make them cry, “how about you give me this so that I can return it to Emma and then I tell you where the secret, magic swing is?”
“A magic swing?” the slightly taller girl’s eyes grew wide, “where?”
“It’s gonna cost you if you wanna know,” you held out your hand.
“Hmm,” the young boy squinted his eyes a moment before he cracked, “fine,” and gave you the veil, “where is it?”
“Behind the gazebo and in the direction of the pond,” you straightened back up and folded the accessories gently, “right there’s a huge tree with a swing on it.”
As they scurried off as fast as their little feet could take them, you turned and marched out into the lobby with your eye set on the grand staircase, but before your hand even reached the bannister, a frazzled man stopped you.
“Hey, miss?” however just as he called for you, the sound of your ringtone buzzed in your pocket, “miss?”
Fishing out your phone and not looking at the ID, you picked it up and briefly spoke into it, “hold on,” before twisting it away from your lips and turning to the mousy-looking man, “yes?”
Holding up a crisp white shirt, he pointed to one of the cuffs, “one of my buttons fell off and I–“
“Okay, hang on one second, I’ll find you a sewing kit. I just need to return this to the bride first,” you held up the veil.
“Alright, thanks,” he nodded and backed off into the sitting room to the side.
Beginning your ascend of the stairs, you turned your haphazard attention back to the phone, “hello?”
“Y/n?” Frank’s deep timbre flowed from the phone and seeped into your very core, “is this a bad time?”
Passing a few rowdy bridesmaids on the steps, they nearly bumped into you and caused you not to comprehend a single one of the words Frank had just said, “what?”
“I asked if this is a bad time,” he repeated as you reached the top of the steps, but as you did, the shrill wail of a baby, cradled in its mother’s arms, pierced your very soul.
“I–, uhm, what?” you whipped your head around and spotted the hall closet off to the side, “I’m sorry, just one second,” and rushed to duck into it. The thin wall didn’t manage to drown out all of the noise, but it did get quiet enough for you to finally hear yourself think again. Switching on the dull lightbulb, “fuck…” you let yourself slide down the length of the door till you sat on the floor, “there,” you exhaled slowly, “hi, now I can hear you. What’s up?”
“Are you alright over there?”
“Yeah, sorry, it’s just a bit chaotic right now,” resting the veil in your lap, you stretched out your legs, “the last of the guests just arrived and I haven’t even had time to go up and change yet. I’m still in fucking jeans.”
“Sweetheart, it’s you,” his smile shined clear through in his low voice, “you could easily pull off wearing jeans to a wedding if you’d like.”
Feeling the corners of your lips gently tug upwards at his words, you breathed out, “so, did you just call to talk about the fact that I’m still in jeans and not the jaw-dropping green dress I got, or was there something else you wanted?”
“I just called to check in, see how you were holding up, but also to make sure you’re still up for tonight.”
Letting your spine rest back against the door, you shared, “honestly, the thought of going over to yours as soon as this is all over and they don’t need me anymore is the only thing getting me through the day without having a fucking meltdown…”
Letting a low sigh flow from his lips, you heard him ask, “you sure you don’t need me to get over there?”
“You’re sweet, but no, it’s alright,” you smiled, your fingers gently fiddling with the veil, “actually, it’s probably good that you’re not here. With the way Donna’s already enjoying herself with the champagne, you might end up as her next husband before the couple says I do.”
“Oh,” he swiftly mirrored the laugh that bubbled out of you, “well in that case.”
After the chuckling had died back down, you tried your best to sink into the quiet completely and enjoy the fleeting pause his phone call had granted you.
After the moment of comfortable silence had come to a close, Frank’s voice flowed from the phone once more, “So, tell me,” the playful nature in his tone was still blatantly clear for you to pick up on, “just how jaw-dropping is that dress of yours?”
“Well,” you bit down on our grin, “I won’t be able to wear a bra with the kind of neckline that it has… and with the way that it falls on me, I might not be able to wear underwear as well,” that wasn’t true in the slightest, but he didn’t have to know if you’d slipped them off before you even put the dress on or mere moments before stepping out of the car to see him. The thought of him imagining you without them the entire night was far too enthralling not to entertain, “would be such a shame if the dress got ruined by distracting lines, wouldn’t it?”
As you heard him puff out a gravelly breath, “fuck me…sweetheart, you’re killing me here…” you simply giggled in return, “uhm, when was it again that you’ll be done?”
“Not completely sure, some time after dinner properly. I’ll send you a text when I head out.”
“Alright.”
“You want me to try and steal some cake with me? We might need a snack a little later…”
“Oh, yeah?” he chuckled, “you planning on working up an appetite, are you?”
© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble
#lea’s writing#lilac series#lumberjack!frank castle#frank castle x reader#frank castle imagine#frank castle x you#frank castle x y/n#frank castle x female reader#frank castle x fem!reader#frank castle x f!reader#frank castle fic#the punisher fic#frank castle fanfiction#the punisher x reader#frank castle fluff#frank castle series#lumberjack au#frank castle hurt/comfort#frank castle angst
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Baldur's Gate 3 and the Grooming Theme
I am on my second playthrough by now (the Astarion origin) and it really becomes even more apparent how grooming is kind of a central theme with all six of the origin characters. And funnily enough, I am not entirely sure whether it is intentional or more accidental. Mostly because I am not entirely certain whether the creators have realized how much the Gale-Mystra relationship reads as grooming and how much the entire Gith culture is basically about grooming their young into those perfect warriors.
The abuse aspect is fairly clear with Astarion and Shadowheart. If I am not entire mistaken, there is even dialogue in game that calls out Shadowheart's experience as grooming explicitly.
Let me go through all the Origin Six one by one.
Astarion gets basically groomed by Cazador, which kinda partly gets clearer if you consider that while under humans he would have been considered as an adult, among elves he would not have been. With him it is a clearer abuse situation, due to all the torture and violence we know he was subjected to. But Cazador in general tried to turn his spawn into what he imagined them to be. (There is a lot of speculation going on that he focused so much on Astarion, because Astarion reminded him of himself.) We also learn from Astarion that he tried to be what Cazador wanted him to be - though he clearly never succeeded.
Shadowheart embodies one of the most classical grooming scenarios. Often these day we use grooming to refer explicitly to sexual grooming - but the word is also often used in religious contexts, especially when it comes to cults. And yes, basically Shadowheart got kidnapped as a child and quite literally brainwashed to be a follower of Shar. We do not have that many details, but those we have actually do fit rather well with grooming inside of cults. And in her case this happened very clearly with the implicit knowledge of the people doing the grooming of what they were doing.
With Karlach we do not quite know how old she was, when she started to work for Gortash. But from all we learn she was probably in her teens. We have not many dialogues of her referring explicitly to what exactly happened between her and Gortash, outside of him selling her off to Zariel. But we have bits and pieces that sound a terrible lot like lovebombing. Of Gortash always knowing how to praise her that she would feel good about herself. Which, too, is a very typical grooming tactic. And what we know sounds like he kinda groomed her into the perfect bodyguard - before he sold her off.
With Wyll it is the clearest in so many ways, because we see him and Mizora interact with each other quite a bit. And make no mistake, Mizora very much groomed him. He was fucking 19 when he made that contract - and all we learn sounds like tons and tons of gaslighting happening between them, denying him to have any sense of reality. And I mean, just look at the official artwork with the two of them. While canonical there is nothing sexual happening between them (unless you do a Wyll playthrough and do the one night stand with Mizora)... It definitely feels at least somewhat sexually charged and she is quite touchy with him.
There has been a lot of discussion about Gale in this regard. Most of all because we do not get to know that much about how his relationship with Mystra went on. With Gale we do not know how old he is now, we know even less how old he was when Mystra took him in. But it for sure feels a lot like grooming, especially once you consider the inescapable power imbalance between a god and a mortal human. Given that Gale is still very enarmored with Mystra as we meet him - despite her abandoning him - we mostly hear rosy memories from him. But just his entire interaction when she fucking commands him to kill himself... Yeah that sounds a lot like grooming.
Finally there is Lae'zel. With her it is also more the cultish kind of grooming. Because the entire Gith culture under Vlaakith is basically a cult. We kinda see it when we interact with the Gith kids in the Monestary, who very much have absorbed this idea of the culture, going so far as killing and torturing each other. We also see that in Lae'zel if we talk with her about it and she looks at this and is like "Yeah, nothing wrong with that." Personally I found Lae'zel hardest to deal with because of this. Because she has absorbed all this stuff from her culture and when she follows those ideals she still thinks she is doing good/right. Like, Shadowheart can be a shitty person and Astarion definitely is. But they both kinda get that their behavior at times is shitty - while Lae'zel goes "this is right and good!"
Technically speaking we even see this partly in the villains. Orin definitely was groomed into the murder hobo she is. That makes her not the least bit less evil - but it was not as if she ever had a choice to become anything other than a murder hobo. And while I would argue that technically speaking Gortash was not exactly groomed (or maybe he was groomed by Bane?), he definitely also has been turned into a shitty person through childhood trauma.
To be honest, it is all this trauma that comes from all those experiences, though, that makes me just wanna write for this fandom so much. Because... Well, there is so much healing to do for those characters. And all those healing stuff is kinda the stuff I am all here for, when it comes to writing.
#baldurs gate 3#bg3#karlach#wyll#shadowheart#astarion#mizora#cazador szarr#gale dekarios#lae'zel#enver gortash#bg3 orin
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Something I do like about the character writing for DFF is that 1) The characters really do feel like messy teenagers 2) The characters do shitty things, hurt each other or do harmful things to themselves that - frustrating and painful as it is to watch - make sense for the character and their circumstances. The characters don't often make the smart or best decision, but for the most part, it makes sense in context.
Tw for discussion of sexual abuse
Like am I mentally yelling at Non to forget about the movie, ditch these shitty 'friends', be honest with Phee, report Kru Keng and to move to Phee's school? Yes, I am. Do I understand why he doesn't do any of those things? Yes, I do.
He's a teenager who's mentally ill, isolated, with low self esteem and coming from a place of poverty.
As a kid, I was also part of a group of 'friends' who were actually bullies. Although things never went nearly as far as they do in DFF, I can get where Non's coming from. When you're that desperate for acceptance and to be a part of a group (however shitty it may be), and when perhaps they're not even always shitty, just enough so to make you consider staying around, you'll stay around in the hope things get better.
Non's family are poor - to the point of taking out loans for New - and he's already brought trouble to their door due to the money laundering scheme, as well as to his parents' relationship. In contrast to New - who's implied to be the golden child - Non likely feels like he's brought nothing but trouble and misery to his family.
As someone who's mentally ill and on medication, I wouldn't be surprised if he felt ashamed of his mental illness as well, and felt like that already made him a 'burden' to his family. Disclaimer that I don't know how mental illness is treated in Thailand specifically, but as someone from an East/Southeast Asian background, I do feel like in general, mental illness is something that still has a more of a stigma to it in Asia than it does in the West (not that there isn't stigma here too). Like, I would never tell my mum I'm in therapy because I feel like she wouldn't truly understand, and might even blame herself for me going. From her point of view, only 'crazy' people, someone with something seriously wrong with them or someone suffering from severely traumatic event would go to therapy.
When Non got taken in by the police, Phee talked to his dad to get him released, putting himself in potential trouble with his dad and potential future trouble with the police if this comes under any further scrutiny.
Non says time and time again he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone, and he already feels like he's been a burden to his family and Phee. He knows his family can't afford the debt, and he doesn't want to trouble Phee further. So when Kru Keng offers him money in exchange for sex, even though he knows what Kru Keng's doing is wrong, even though he doesn't want to lie and 'cheat' on Phee (and don't tell me it's 'cheating'; again, this is an adult in a position of power grooming a vulnerable youngster), he believes he'd be bringing his troubles to his loved ones and doesn't want to be even more of a 'burden.' So he has sex with Kru Keng.
And then Phee's reaction to finding out. Does he react badly and then say something really awful to Non by telling him to get lost and die? Yes. Do I understand why he reacted like that? Yes! Again, he's a teenager, and probably one in his first serious relationship, and reacting out of anger and hurt, without full details of the situation or understanding of why what Kru Keng's doing is incredibly wrong (even if Non seems to be 'consenting').
Unfortunately, in cases of real life teacher-student grooming, it's not uncommon for the reaction of students (especially teenagers) to not be one of 'oh, that's fucked up, the teacher's a monster, poor student [x]' but for the victim to be ridiculed or slut-shamed by some quarters, especially if it's seen as 'consensual.'
Jin's reaction too. Is it shitty he videoed Non and then (almost?) posted it on social media? Yes. Is it because of him taking that video that it somehow got disseminated to the rest of the school? Yes. Do I understand why he reacted this way? Yes. People are messy and human, and doesn't always react in the best ways in the face of hurt, anger and immaturity
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SAU, LA'U TAMA AULELEI ! - CHAPTER 7 18+
pairings; teen!miguel o'hara x fem samoan oc
summary; Slow steps, baby steps.
warnings/notes; this chapter contains a HEAVY topic of grooming :( I hope people actually read my warnings, especially this one. I advise you read something else if you're uncomfortable with this type of topic. Miguel needs to be slapped silly for his eyes to open up fr. Manaia's supportive friends trynna help 😞 SLOW FUCKING BURN MY GGGGGGGGGGGGGG
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Miguel had arrived home two hours later than usual. He saw no reason to rush anyway. His silent walk in the rain with a small umbrella in his hand made him reminisce about the time he had spent with Manaia earlier. Her sweet perfume lingered, intruding on Miguel's sense of smell. His much taller form had no personal armrest to joke around with or tease. Instead, he walked home with his hand in his pocket wrapped around his phone, waiting, itching for a call from her. Then he realized that throughout their friendship, he had never given her his phone number.
Entering his dark room, he threw his bag onto the floor and immediately plunged onto his bed, not bothering to close his door. His back muscles ached. His legs ached. His head ached. His everything was just in pure pain. But he made sure to endure the walk and take no form of transportation. He knew his aching body was nothing compared to how Manaia had felt. Miguel knew his words were a bullet to the heart, but he found himself pulling the trigger.
"Hun, are you okay?" His mother waited at the door after knocking softly on his bedroom door. He mumbled a soft yes while his face was planted against his pillow.
"I'm going to make dinner soon, want to help me?" She asked politely, now leaning against his doorframe with her arms crossed against her chest. Miguel let out another incoherent mumble to which she rolled her eyes. Miguel knew his mother, and his mother knew Miguel. She wasn't dumb. "My sweet child, what's wrong?"
Now sitting up with his back against his bed frame, he ran a hand through his hair. He knew there was no getting out of this, so he saw no point in lying either. "Nothing, mama. Just school biting me in the ass," he bullshits anyway.
"Right. My brainy son who does nothing but study every day is stressed over.. school?" She skeptically asked.
Miguel raises his eyebrows as confirmation while his lips form a straight, "Yeah, basically."
"Miguel, I birthed you. I'm sure I'd know when you're lying."
"Mama, I'm not lying."
His mother walks closer to him in a swift motion. He watches as his mother's knee reaches up, her hand taking off one of her sandals.
"Wait! Okay- okay, I'm sorry."
She gives him a stern look, "Then tell me what you're all sooky about."
Miguel sighs and contemplates, "It's just this girl I've been talking with."
"The girl you've been gushing over the past few years? You finally... you know?" She eggs him on.
His silence was made up for with a nod. "We've gone farther than what we should have, and I regret it."
A harsh slap on his thigh made him cry out, "You got her pregnant!?"
"What? Mama, no!" he grunts, holding his hand out, "We just became friends just like you advised me to!"
His mother moves back, her shoe on the floor as her hands grip her hips. Shaking her head as she sighs, "Okay good, at least you know what not to do."
"I'd never do that, mama. You've taught me better."
"Then what are you sulking about? Befriending that girl was something you wanted, right?"
Miguel nods.
"Then what is the problem? You invited her like I asked? She said no?"
"I mean I told her about coming over..." he trails off, another slap on his thigh, "Ow! Mama!"
"Oh, you are such a fool," She pinches the bridge of her nose, "Miguel, telling someone and inviting someone over are two different things! What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking," he lowers his head.
"Yeah, clearly," she sighs.
She shifts closer to her beloved son, cradling his head in her warm arms. "For a top student like yourself, you can be a big idiot," she jokes. "If you find yourself around her again, maybe try to invite her properly."
"Well, I think it would be awkward to, if I'm being honest with you, mama."
"Why is that?" Slightly wrinkly fingers cup his face.
He explains everything that had happened hours prior. From when they had walked together, to the bus ride, and to the very awkward interruption from her younger brother at the front of her house.
His mother tries to understand, truthfully she was but the attempt of wrapping her mind around what her son did and didn't do wasn't clicking. For all the years that had passed since he met the said girl, he wouldn't shut the fuck up. "So, you don't feel anything for her?"
Miguel shakes his head.
"At all? Feelings are completely platonic?"
He shakes his head again.
"You're too in denial," she gives up, slapping his head before walking out of his bedroom.
"What do you mean?" he calls out, rubbing his head and fixing the messed-up strands.
"Figure it out, now get up and help me make dinner!"
Miguel had finally found comfort in his pillows and thick blanket, scrolling on his phone until his friends texted him on their usual group chat. He continued to read their chat, guilt eating him alive from earlier. The thought of Manaia feeling upset had clouded his mind. What would they do if they found out? They weren't the type to be angry when Manaia was upset; they were more likely to comfort her than to react with rage. Miguel took his time to come clean to them.
mahi_sniffer: guys i cut my hair 😓 its looks so fucking bad
[ mahi_sniffer has sent a photo to pussy eatersssss ]
bololicker: tf cunt why is it so shit
bololicker: HAHAHA
aluaigioukae: WHAT IN THE TRASH
bololicker: good luck trying w the beckis now
aluaigioukae: you cut your hair cos of ur nits? 😹
mahi_sniffer: got sick of ur dad pulling on it when he hits it from the back
bololicker: oh hell nah
Everyone had stopped typing, probably gone off to do something else, unlike Miguel, who observed his still screen with a racing heart. "No one's here, I should say it now," Miguel thought. He typed swiftly, then hesitated to hit send. "Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it-"
M.Ohara_99: I fucked up
Long pressing on his message to unsend, he sees Kiuga typing. There was no pussying out now.
aluaigioukae: were you the one who cut siones hair? bcos you did more than fuck up
[ M.Ohara_99: I fucked up ]
bololicker: HI MIGUELLL
mahi_sniffer has replied to M.Ohara_99's message !
mahi_sniffer: wat happened daddy 😢 yo mama not single anymore?
M.Ohara_99: I think I upset Manaia today.
aluaigioukae: cmon now dawg 😞 whats the happs w you two now
mahi_sniffer: lich uh relly
bololicker: was this today??
M.Ohara_99: I mean to keep it short, she just asked if we'd be more that what we are.
mahi_sniffer: uh huhh and then you said yes and made out??
M.Ohara_99: I said we'd just always be friends
aluaigioukae: WHAT
bololicker: fucks sake bruh 😭
aluaigioukae: thats fking crazyyyyy
bololicker: always cockblocking urself smh
M.Ohara_99: I understand, I truly didn't mean it. I just thought we'd always be friends. I saw no reason to lie since I've wanted to become closer to her, just not as close as she was hinting at.
He groans as he sees Sione sending a voice message. Sione only sends those when he is truly upset with what his friends have done. More disappointed than upset. Now, he truly knows how dumb he was with what he said to the poor girl. Tapping on the play button, he turns his volume down as Sione's voice echoes throughout his room.
[ mahi_sniffer has sent a voice message to pussy eatersssss ! ]
"ARE YOU DUMB? Its like if you- like if you just went ahead and like- I CANT EVEN THINK OF AN EXAMPLE BECAUSE OF HOW DUMB THAT MOVE WAS-" the audio recorder cuts off. He sees Sione typing.
mahi_sniffer: now shes gonna call me sooking over it smh
aluaigioukae: i give it 10 minutes before she calls you
bololicker: i say 5
aluaigioukae: no one asked u
mahi_sniffer: yeah well both of you are wrong cos shes calling me now 🥲 i'll brb
aluaigioukae: tell her i say hi at least
bololicker: so you're fine with just being friends w naia??
M.Ohara_99: I guess yeah
aluaigioukae: soooo you dont have feelings for her
M.Ohara_99: I guess I sort of do have feelings for he
r
aluaigioukae: "ermm i think i do 🥺" BOI WHY R U SO IN DENIAL FOR GODDAMN
M.Ohara_99: When she asked if we were to be more than what we already were, I hesitated to be upfront
aluaigioukae: upfront about what exactly
M.Ohara_99: how i feel about her, i just didnt want my real answer to overwhelm
bololicker: U IDIOT IF SHE ASKED YOU THAT QUESTION, IM SURE SHE WOULD'VE BEEN FINE AND JUMPED ON UR ASS
aluaigioukae: OKAY SO, what im getting from this is that you dont have feelings for manaia, BUT you didnt want to be honest with her and told her you'd js be friends for like forever?? SO SAYING YOU DIDNT WANNA BE HONEST BASED ON WHAT YOUVE ALREADY SAID TO HER MEANS YOU HAVE FEELINGS FOR HER???
alugioukae: miguel 😿
M.Ohara_99: no?
alugioukae: if you saw manaia hanging around another guy the same way shes been hanging around you, how would you feel?
aluaigioukae: more importantly, if it was seth?
Miguel takes a pause to reread the small bubbled text. A new scenario is created in his mind. A larger hand intertwined with Manaia's, the girl and boy are seen walking down as they smile at each other adoringly. Another scenario erupts, a comforting hand is glued to her back as the pair walk together, her soft hand pulling him closer to her body. He shakes his head and scoffs.
M.Ohara_99: I would feel nothing
bololicker: im not even going to try ur too emotional constipated
bololicker: good fucking night 😭
M.Ohara_99: I apologise
aluaigioukae: apologise to ur missus man 😖
Content warning; please click away or scroll past the italics if uncomfortable.
All you have to do is be quiet. You can do that, right?" A calloused hand ran through the soft curls of the girl who sat on his lap. "You're such a beautiful girl, you know that?" An arm wrapped around the small girl's stomach to keep her in place. "Pretty girls like you are good listeners. Are you a pretty girl?"
The girl whined, her tiny hands wanting to free herself. "I want to see my mum!" her small voice pleaded.
"Shh, shh, you'll see her soon," the dark voice croaked and cooed. The poor girl could only pout and let the tears that awaited in her eyes flow. "Go ahead and cry, little girl. You look even more breathtaking. Do you think you're a pretty girl?" the rough voice asked. The girl nodded her head obediently. His head leaned down to get a strong whiff of the girl's neck, the scent of strong liquor filling her young nose. He grinned after moving back and left a small kiss on her collarbone. She shivered uncomfortably in his lap.
"Manaia! Manaia! Liam, is Manaia with you!? I brought dinner!" another voice from outside the room called out.
The older man, known as Liam, grabbed the girl by her cheeks, squishing them tightly. "Remember, between us, beautiful girl?" Tears streaked down her face. Nonetheless, the poor girl nodded her head obediently.
Unbeknownst to the older male, the slight crack in the door was wide enough for someone to peek in.
"Manaia!"
"Manaia!"
"Manaia!
...
"Manaia!"
"Hm!" the said girl pops her head up from her table, eyes red and strained, sweat running down her forehead.
"Wake up, stupid. The bell just went."
"Oh," she continues to rubs her eyes, stretching as her bones crack satisfyingly, "M'up, m'up." Resting her head in her hands, she takes deep, slow breaths before looking up.
Manaia looks around her, she had slept in class for the thousandth time the past two weeks. The classroom was empty with the lights turned off, leaving only herself and Sione. He stood in front of her desk, her bag already on his back along with his, "C'mon, it's first break, you can find a table when we get to the library."
Judging by her silence and huffed breathing, Sione tilts his head knowingly, "Same shit dream?"
She looks away embarrassed. Sione gives a sympathetic hum, "I know how you feel, Nai. You know I'm always here for you. But we have to go before the next class starts, okay?"
An arm was draped around Manaia's shoulders for comfort, her head laid against his side. They walked mindlessly, unbothered by the loud shouts and arguments by the other students they walked by.
Sione extends his hand out to open the library door for the exhausted girl. Manaia is quick to get herself settled down to claim her place at a table. She shut her eyes promptly with the intent to drift back asleep. Along with her weekends, she was having restless weekdays. Adding more hours to her miserable job had made her physically and socially exhausted. But she didn't feel like she could express her complaints and disagreements with a mother like hers.
The lack of money in her family had become a problem as of recently, due to someone's alcoholic problem, and the only girl who would voluntarily listen to anybody was the answer. Her mother informed Manaia that as an exchange for more shifts at her job, she would be able to spend more time out with her friends. She had the time, but not enough energy to do so. Loud, fuming customers along with impatient coworkers had drained her. She'd head home to sleep everything all off before getting up and getting ready for a job that only allowed her to return home three hours before school began.
"You hungry?" Sione's voice breaks Manaia out of her thinking, "I'll run to the canteen 'n get you something before you fall asleep," Sione takes off his jacket and places it on her shoulders. The AC's in the library were a blessing when they were actually needed, but for a cold day like this, Manaia shivered helplessly.
"S'fine, I'm just tired.."
"I'll buy you something at second lunch, then," he tries to bargain. She couldn't bite back as her eyes failed her, slumber had won over once again. Sitting next to her sleeping form, he sighs. Pulling her hair back that flared everywhere, he brushed back the frizzy parts that would bother her sleep.
Reaching into her bag, pulling out the blank pages of paper that were supposed to be full of the work she was assigned days ago. He gives her sleeping form another sympathetic look. He takes out all of her books and begins filling out what she had missed. Writing tips on the margin side of her book, brushing a hand through his hair in eagerness.
"Is she okay?"
Sione looks up and sees Miguel standing there with a worried expression.
"Jus' tired. Want to sit?" He offers.
Without a word, Miguel sits across the both of them, looking down at the paper covered table. "This is what you've been missing out on?"
"It's Naia's shit. I don't understand half of what the fuck is going on in these workbooks, but I know she'll need them later."
"Can I take a look?" Miguel asks.
Sione pushes over the books and papers over to Miguel's side before sighing, "If I can't understand that bullshit, this dumbass here won't either."
"I can fill out some things.. If you'll let me, that is," Miguel hesitates to bring the idea up. But sure enough, Sione agrees quickly.
"Fuck yes, Miguel, please," He cheers happily, his voice so low to not awake his friend that was asleep beside. "Come sit where I am, I'm going to buy her something before she wakes up-"
Already out of his seat and out the door, Miguel could barely make a complaint. He looks over to Manaia who slept peacefully. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. He gets up and sits next to her, carefully not to wake her up. Grabbing all her textbooks, he pushed one to the side to work on later, hitting Manaia in the arm. She jolts awake and Miguel curses in his head. Manaia blinks slowly, the light above her irritate her tired eyes.
She looks over to the side and sees Miguel. She grows embarrassed once again.
They hadn't spoken in what felt like weeks. Realistically, it only had been a few days. The last time they "spoke" - aside from Miguel's aggravating revelation - was last week when they bumped into each other in the hall. They shared an awkward glance before leaving to do what they tended. Though, one of them had turned around to admire the other walking away.
"Hi," Miguel is the first one to speak.
Manaia ponders, "Hi, Miguel.." she speaks softly, giving him a short smile before looking away.
"How are you?" he attempts to make small talk.
"V'been okay, you?"
"Great, fine, fantastic."
"Nice, nice."
They sat in silence, both their hands on the table. So close, close enough to touch each other. Their hands flat out.
Miguel's pinky irks closer to Manaia's. She sees this, but doesn't find herself backing away. Instead, she places her palm over his, now looking at him with a beaming chuckle. One that he missed hearing.
"You're awake! I got you.." Sione returns with a bunch of snacks he managed to buy, "Oh, fuck, sorry guys," he apologises at the interruption of their subtextual rekindling.
Manaia pulls her hand away, and Miguel's heart breaks.
#atsv miguel#miguel spiderman#miguel and spidergirl reader#miguel o’hara x reader#yandere miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara fanfic#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#sau la'u tama aulelei#spiderman 2099 x you#yandere spiderverse#spiderman#miguel 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara imagine#miguel ohara x you#miguel o’hara x you#miguel x you#sm 2099#samoa
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okok so this isn't exactly coswave related, but i love your soundwave sm. would you happen to have any hcs about soundwave and ravage and their dynamic?? btw i love your art and im eating it nom nom
YES LETS FUCKING GOOO you have no idea how much I love soundwave and cassette relationships so THANK YOU FOR ASKINGGG
Cassette and carrier dynamics are very unique and fluid depending on the mechs involved. Every carrier has a different dynamic, so it’s not always a “parent/child” “boss/grunt” or etc etc kinda dynamic.
The relationship between cassette and carrier oftentimes transcends our understanding of relationships.
For soundwave and his cassettes, the dynamic is very very close and friendly! They love eachother and protect eachother but there’s no designated caregiver—the role is often stepped into, so it’s very malleable and sort of depends on the circumstances. With that being said though, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a subtle hierarchy.
Soundwave was found by Ravage, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw in the Dead End and the four (Rav and the birds were already in a mutually beneficial arrangement) eventually formed a very strong bond. Ravage is kinda the head honcho—she’s not the boss per se (that title affectionately goes to Soundwave) but she ensures safety and security for the pack. Ravage’s approval is generally a MUST for anything to happen.
Soundwave rarely goes anywhere without Ravage. If Soundwave is present, it is an almost guarantee that ravage is somewhere close by. If Ravage isn’t available, Buzzsaw and Laserbeak will be (note: rumble and frenzy also have a strong bond with soundwave but they tend to be more independent from the carrier. They still love and protect eachother, but they’re speciality is more like the horrible roommates who help soundwave blow stuff up).
Ravage is a very tactile mech, believe it or not. She’s either wound around soundwaves ankles, perched on his shoulder, or in his lap. Touch was grounding for Soundwave during their time in the Dead End and old habits are hard to break (ie ravage refuses to stop).
Ravage grooms like a cat. She’ll wrestle soundwave to the ground to groom her face. The birds aren’t safe either. She’ll grab them out of the sky and sit on them to groom them. Rumble and frenzy are about the same size as Ravage (she’s a big girl) so she tackles them easy. Nobody is safe.
Soundwave has cat tendencies bc of ravage. His tape deck whrrs when he’s happy/content and it resembles a purr (he learned early on that it’s a calming gesture and an easy way to calm ravage down, later learning that it works for the other cassettes as well. Now it’s more subconscious than anything else). They also headbutt to show affection—a rare occurrence outside of their cassettes—but they’ll bump their head against the birds if they’re on her shoulder or gently headbutt one of the twins after a particularly difficult battle.
If Ravage is pissed off she gets petty. She’ll hide your stuff, she’ll tear stuff up, try to ‘accidentally’ trip you, etc etc. and honestly Soundwave can also get petty. They’re no better than she is. When they get into arguments it’s horrible for everyone around.
Small coswave note: ravage knew soundwave had a crush on cosmos before soundwave even did. She stalked cosmos obsessively and made note of every little way he acted around soundwave. Only the best for her kit (don’t worry, she begrudgingly approved eventually)
That’s all I can think of right now but yeah they mean. So much to me. THANK YOU FOR THE ASK I LOVE THESE AND ENJOY YOUR ART MEAL EEHEHE ❤️❤️❤️🛸🛸
#I LOVE THESE ASKS AND I LOVE RAVAGE SO MUCH#I jokingly call soundwave a kitten and now you know why#soundwave#cassettes#transformers#maccadam#maccadams
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Felt like making an MLP next gen lol (something something, inner child or whatever)
[[Link to the base i used]]
SHIPS AND LORE UNDER THE CUT!!!
Characters from left to right
Daisy bell - fluttershy x tree hugger
....yeah, i know that you were probably expecting a different ship considering neither fluttershy OR tree hugger have curly hair. I gave daisy curly hair because tree hugger's design makes it look like she has wicks or some other black hairstyle and that leads me to believe she may be black. Anyway...daisy's special talent is grooming animals and i imagine she probably smokes weed in her spare time
Hailey - applejack x rainbow dash
In all honesty, i'm not really too invested in shipping in the MLP fandom though considering how it's implied RD and AJ got married in the series finale i decided to keep that with my next gen because i feel it makes sense. I chose the name "hailey" for this character for a multitude of reasons: 1. That's the name i chose for ALL my rainbow dash next gen kids ever since i was twelve, 2. It's a pun on "hail" as in the weather condition and 3. "Hailey" just SOUNDS like it could be a farm girl name. Basically hailey's thing is that she earned her cutie mark after getting bit by a vampire fruit bat as a child and therefore has a pair of bat wings. Personality-wise she's pretty much your typical "manic pixie dream girl" type (ramona flowers from scott pilgrim immediantly comes to mind, i've never read those books and i'm just going off of what i've heard)
Pastel dream - twilight sparkle x flash sentry
I admit this is a bit of a generic choice but tbh this was one of the first ships i EVER had so i feel it deserves a place in my next gen. Basically twilight and flash got married though their marriage didn't last very long and they got divorced a few years after pastel was born and twilight eventually got with big mac, pastel was very fucking angsty about having a new stepdad and only really calmed down after her little sister lavender was born. She's emo and also believes in aliens, her special talent is interpreting dreams (also, yes i know she doesn't really look THAT much like her parents. I'm just kinda tired of people ALWAYS making their flashlight fankids straight up just twilight but orange and i wanted to do something different)
Lavender web - twilight sparkle x big mac
Yeah i only really put this ship here because of the semi-infamous fanfic "the spiderses" and her personality is no different, this lass just LOVES her some spiders.
Rosemary - rarity x braeburn
This was actually the very first MLP ship i ever got into! At the time, i hadn't watched the episode braeburn was in and didn't know he was basically male applejack. 8-year-old me just saw him in the gameloft app and thought "wow that's one handsome horse! I must ship him with rarity because she's my favorite character!" So i put the ship into my next gen because of how much sentimental value i have for it. Anyways....i imagine rose to be somewhat of a "southern belle" type, her special talent is writing romance fiction and she's got the flirty nature to match! She's slightly inspired by blanche from the golden girls, i do admit.
Chocomint ice - pinkie pie x minty
To be honest....i only really added this ship in because of how often they're shipped in G3. I don't really have much to say about her other than she's based on the song "aoi-chan is going to eat chocomint no matter what" (bit of a mouthful of a song title but y'know...it's a japanese song so it's probably much shorter in the original language lol) also her bangs are modeled after the titular aoi-chan in the song's music video
I don't know if i'm going to do anything with this AU, but if i do: i'll probably include celestia x mirror!sombra and luna x discord
#scheduled#artists on tumblr#art#digital art#digital illustration#base art#my little pony#my little pony friendship is magic#mlp#mlp fim#mlp au#mlp next gen#fankid au#fankid#fankids#mlp fankid#mlp fan character#next gen
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Lore Olympus ep. 252 critique
Before all you stans get mad I generally thought this episode was pretty okay. But maybe that’s because not a whole lot happened.
Cassandra
So going in the order of events, first up is our favorite gal Cassandra.
Gotta say, already like her loads.
I don’t have a whole lot to say about her general existence, beyond the fact that it’s stupid that Apollo is using her as a walking incognito tab. My main criticism more lies around the idea of when did Apollo even meet her? He obviously couldn’t have met her during the time skip because there were no interactions allowed between realms during that time and he was kicking it in Olympus.
We also have no indication of when he actually met her post-punishment. There’s no definitive timeline for how far we are post-time skip, but by my estimation, we can’t be more than a month past when the embargo officially lifted. Idk I can already smell the mess that is this storyline a mile away.
The SA plot line
Holy fuck. I don’t exactly know what the hell Rachel is exactly trying to achieve with the SA plot line but I can tell you that the handling of it has been piss poor.
Uhhh... this is great and all except for the fact that Persephone never thought this. There is not one shred of evidence that Persephone ever liked or actually found Apollo handsome. Not even in the very early chapters. She didn't even say that he made her feel special. She said that she liked the way Hades made her feel. Hades made her feel special by grooming her but that's a whole-ass post on its own.
Even after her assault, she continued to express at minimum a clear discomfort for him in front of others and at maximum immense hatred for him when by herself or with only him. And now suddenly Rachel wants to flip the script? Why? What purpose would that serve? Why is she suddenly backpedaling on a plotline that was established within the first 25 episodes/the second day Persephone is on Olympus? The SA plotline is the longest-running and the "big bad" that has yet to be resolved. But now it only pops up when the story needs a little conflict or an extra boost to drive it forward. Plus now she wants to portray Apollo as this misunderstood ex-love interest/boyfriend with whom the audience is supposed to sympathize? It's disgusting. @genericpuff who I really need to stop tagging in these posts I'm so sorry made an excellent essay about how Rachel is burying the SA plot line that basically takes what I've said above and greatly expands it. Go read it, they made a lot of excellent points.
Melinoe
Ah yes. The mystery deity that was really Hades’ inner child/actual child all along!
So I actually had a conversation with another LO critic about how weird I thought this "inner child -> actual canonical child" pipeline was. Now, granted, I could be reading into this way too much but when I first read this, I honestly thought it was some kind of weird/unintentional representation of parents projecting their trauma onto their children.
We've seen this little ghost buddy in past chapters and a lot of people (myself included) thought that our ghost buddy was a representation of Hades' inner child. A little Hades if you will. And it was portrayed that way. We often saw our little ghost buddy/little Hades who was extremely traumatized by Hades' past experiences. The part of Hades that just can't let go despite what he may claim about "moving on" or "being better". But if this little ghost/Hades is actually their kid Melinoe, that means they saw everything that Hades went through. All his traumas, all his struggles. Everything. And now also with Persephone and her little jaunt through the mind-scape and the shit she saw. So now we have to recontextualize all of those scenes where Hades interacts with this being and tbh the scenes kind of become very ick? This is such a strange direction to take this particular storyline. Something about it just rubs me the wrong way and I don't know if it's my above complaint or something else.
But yeah. Pretty tame in comparison to some of my past posts and posts that will come. Until the next chapter and/or my next post.
#anti lore olympus#lore olympus#anti lo persephone#anti lo#lore olympus critical#lo criticism#lo critic#lo critical#lo hate#unpopular lo#unpopular lore olympus
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On Mystra and Gale
Okay I gotta say it.
tl;dr: Gale is too old to have been groomed by Mystra (unless you headcanon him as 30 or younger), bc she was dead until 1479 (game year is 1492). I am not defending Mystra. Mystra is a mess. Her (FR) writing is a mess. But for this at least, the timeline doesn't add up.
Disclaimer: there is absolutely nothing wrong with people disregarding/tweaking lore for fan works/fanfic. God knows I do it all the time when I GM. That's your story now and you can do whatever you want with it, including exploring problematic relationships like what if Gale was groomed by Mystra? This is just a post for general information. Write what you want. Explore those dark recesses of the human heart. Fly free, you beautiful butterfly.
Too long but still gonna read explanation under the cut.
Let me preface this again: This is not a post in defense of Mystra. I have, in fact, been very loudly complaining about Mystra since long before Baldur's Gate 3 was even hinted. This is simply pointing out timeline discrepancies that it seems many newcomers to Forgotten Realms aren't aware of (totally understandable! You should not need to ingest 30 years of lore to enjoy a game and I'm not saying you do.) Additionally, FR literally kills Mystra every new edition and it gets dumber every time.
Anyways. It is highly unlikely that Gale was groomed by Mystra. This is not a statement of morality, it's a statement of timeline.
Mystra died in 1385. She was in pieces (like bits of her magic were still in artifacts/her Chosen, such as Elminster in lore that I absolutely despise) and that, as far as I can tell, is how magic subsisted until 1479, when she was reconstituted by Elminster (in lore that I absolutely despise) This is a gross oversimplification of an event called the Spellplague. I am open to correction on how magic worked here because I moved to Pathfinder during the 4e era and you could not make me read those Elminster books if you put a gun to my head.
Regardless, from 1385-1479, Mystra was dead/missing/asleep.
BG3 takes place in 1492. If Gale is 40 years old, he was born in 1452. This means, if Gale is 40, the youngest he could have been was 27 when Mystra contacted him. This lowers, obviously, if you think Gale is 35 or even 30. If he's 30 then Mystra could have contacted him at 17. Yes, a 17 year-old is a child and this could have led to grooming, but Mystra wasn't at full strength when she first returned and she most likely wasn't seeking new Chosen until the next year, 1480. Regardless, this is the reason I put grooming as Highly Unlikely instead of Impossible. I personally believe Gale is older than 30 (I say this as a person in their 30s), I believe he was written with the intention of being a man older than 30, and I cannot see him being in his 20s. (more power to you if that's your headcanon, he's an archmage, he could be 600 for all we know, fly free, etc)
OKAY THAT SAID. Would she have groomed him? Fucking probably! Mystra is a mess. I have been playing in Forgotten Realms in tabletop and video game settings for going on 25 years now and let me tell you. Mystra is a mess. I could make a whole long ass other post on all the many problems I've had with her writing over the years. Even without the "Mystra banged a minor" angle here, there is a serious power imbalance and very obvious manipulation on her part. And I'm here to tell you Gale isn't even the first wizard she has done this to! She's done much worse! Mystra has a ton of flaws (I could write a BOOK on Mystra's flaws) but it remains highly unlikely that grooming Gale in particular is one of them.
If you'd like more FR lore this person has some amazing lore write-ups that I really enjoyed reading during EA. And here is Mystra's forgotten realms wiki page, already linked to her death and return.
(my friend told me to post this after I kept bitching to them about Lore on discord and They Know Who They Are)
#Baldur's Gate 3#bg3#gale of waterdeep#Gale Dekarios#Civilized lore discussion/questions welcome#If you hate on Gale on this post I will block you#mystra lover/hater since 1999#it's complicated ok#mystryl didn't die for this#forgotten realms lore
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+ 725744225077133312/im-the-incest-abuse-anon-again-the-people-in-the?source=share
I tried to talk myself out of replying to this convo, but fuck it. To preface: I am a survivor of incestuous abuse that went on for over twenty years. I was five when my grandmother started grooming and molesting me; she wanted a perfect, "pure" little doll who would say everything she wanted to hear and let her do whatever she wanted and would be too broken and confused and scared to know how to ever get away from her, and she managed to hide this from everyone in the family.
The thing is: my abuser being my grandmother is entirely tangential to the fact that I was abused. This could have happened with a different close family member, yes, but it also could have happened with a family friend, a friend’s parent, a teacher, a neighbour, a priest, or anyone my family was frequently around. She didn’t abuse me because we were family, she abused me because she wanted to abuse a child, and keep that child as a child forever, and I was convenient. She would have done it to any child she had a lot of access to, it just so happened to be me.
Additionally, an issue I take with your argument and how reductive it is with regard to discussing incest as a whole, is this: putting all the weight of wrongness onto the incest part of incestuous abuse makes it incredibly difficult for those of us who’ve experienced it to discuss what happened to us in a meaningful way. Mainly because so many of these discussions end up getting sidetracked by “ew, sexual relationships between family members is icky” (which tends to make us feel even worse about what happened) instead of focusing on the thing that should actually be talked about, which is the abuse. Do I think re-framing the conversation around consensual incest as “just a social taboo that could apply to a surprising number of situations” instead of some grave, disgusting sin might help make these conversations easier? No fucking clue. But I can’t imagine it’d make things worse. And if it opens up these conversations so that more incestuous abuse survivors feel comfortable speaking about what happened to them, which in turn can help others recognise and get out of their own abusive situations, then that is a good thing. On the other hand, you, anon, acting holier-than-thou because you have an opinion that you don’t seem to have put any effort into crafting doesn’t actually help any of us nor does it do anything to make the conversations around incest (whether it’s consensual or abusive) have any more depth or insight than they currently do.
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Your take on darklinas is 100% correct. Saw so many darklinas in team black stans and they were shitting on Aegon and Aemond. How can someone like Darkling if they like Rhaenyra as if Darkling wasn't far worse for girls than Aegon. Yes they type whole big paragraph about Daemon did nothing wrong and he never groomed anyone. I am not fan of alysmond but I assure you I don't find them more problematic than Daemyra, Rhaenicent. They said Aemond killed Alys's entire family but I don't think she ever gave fuck about her family.
Iol😂 Ik that btw n firstly let me tell u that in book Alys didn't give a single shit about whatever family that was.That wasn't even her family !
That was house strong who was keeping her only as wet nurse servant just bcz she was a strong bastard herself if talk about book only. She wasn't any princess there😭. Wtf TB Stans think while making these bullshits which wasn't in the book. Atleast should make something sensible.
I already told that dere relationship was not any romantic which some Alysmond Stans want it to be. It was just kind of toxic profit n gain relationship bet them. But she was only with Aemond for her profit n survival. She clearly gets pregnant with his child. Most logical reason is only that she would also hold the power in throne. That's it.
Alys was a witch who killed a man just in secs...do u really think that she would make herself as a crying hostage to a 18 yrs old boy😭. She would have killed Aemond easily if she wanted to right there while slaughtering whole house strong but she didn't bcz she would easily get profit from removing every other man from her strong family. Whole wealth indirectly goes to her or larys.
TB be saying anything rubbish as we don't even get much about her in book. She was neither team Black or team green. Now what tv series would do about her ? I can't say that......but Ofcourse they would say thousand non sense reasons on daemon which even GRRM would die on hearing.😹
N about Darklina stans🤦🏻♀️...they r really stupid. Their whole ship is extremely problematic. Even alysmond or every ship from hotd itself is less problematic than darklina honestly 😂.
Darkling literally abused n harmed Alina physically and he gave small girls to get r*ped by King for his own need🤢
n the audacity those idiots have to say anything about any ship way less problematic than them. It's funny when Darkling Stans would say they like Rhaenyra. Even Aegon was less harmful than him like bitch.. be fr😂which drug u guys r taking
I don't hate or not any anti Darklina. I don't even like that book. It's so fucking boring😭.Ship is very much ok. Like you can ship the fuck u want. I used to ship it too but if u r liking a problematic ship urself then u should better keep ur mouth shut about any other ships. They are embarrassing sometimes
(Believe me only thing I shipped it because they have that light and dark dynamic, if it wasn't about that. I would have never shipped them either. Plus Ben Barnes was the reason I went to watch that show 😑)
As I said they can't even like their favourites as they are🤷🏻♀️ so don't take them seriously. I am waiting for that clown show when they are going to say Daeron is a r@pist while writing big stupid paragraphs on ' how Maegor was correct'. U can see that very soon.
#house of dragons#hotd fandom#darklina#anti darklina#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#daemon targeryan#rheanyra targaryen#team black#team green#hotd thoughts#hotd discourse#hotd discussion#hotd aemond#hotd aegon#hotd daemon#darkling shadow and bone
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Polar Opposites (Christian Pulisic x Reader) - Part 3
WC: 1.9K
Warnings: curse words, slight mention of alcohol
A/N: Here comes the 3rd part… 2 more to go! 🥰 Before you read this, I’m here to remind you it’s best to read the previous parts first 😉 apologies if this part may not be as good as the previous ones, but I hope you all enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts thru reply/reblog/ask 🫶 If you wanna be added to the taglist let me know 😊 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!
| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4 |
---
It was time for you and Christian to help the future bride and groom find their wedding dress and tuxedo respectively. You went with Claire to a bridal shop while Christian accompanied Nick to the tuxedo gallery.
Since the day Nick told you he was going to propose, you had done a lot of research about wedding dresses – the styles, necklines, fabrics, lengths, etc. – so you could be helpful for her while she decided on the perfect dress for her big day.
The previous week, you both went to several bridal shops and finally settled on this one store – which had more options that suited Claire’s liking and the price range was on the budget. Claire was so excited to try on different wedding dresses today, she told you how she had been waiting for this day since forever. You couldn’t be happier to be there with her, and you were so thrilled to see a preview of your best friend as the most beautiful bride in the world.
“Y/N, what do you think of this one?” Claire asked, showing you the dress she was wearing.
“Beautiful! I think the A-line style suits you perfectly. But maybe try another dress with different necklines and uh, some laces?”
“Wow, Y/N, since when did you know about this stuff?” She sounded amazed.
“I’m a Person of Honor, aren’t I? I’m doing my job as one. You deserve the best, Claire.”
She held your hand and smiled at you. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
As Claire tried on another dress, you poured champagne to the glasses for you and Claire. You loved how you got to enjoy free champagne because you were quite overwhelmed – you didn’t expect shopping for wedding dresses would be this complicated.
“So, Y/N, have you talked to Christian?” She asked as you helped her put on a dress.
You raised your eyebrows, confused by the question which seemed to be so out of the blue. “About what?”
“I don’t know, anything? I mean, aren’t you friends with him now?”
“Friends? Nah.” You pouted and gave a dismissive wave of your hand. “That stupid man-child will never be my friend. Do you know how difficult it is for me to tolerate him?”
“Oh no...” She shook her head, her hands were covering her eyes, “Did I miss something?”
“Uh.. Okay. Claire, to be honest…” You paused for a second, “I didn’t tell you anything because well, I don’t think you’d like what you’re about to hear.”
You finished an entire glass before you continued. “I don’t like him. Can’t even stand him. I’m telling you, he is truly a fucking pain in the ass.”
“Come on, he can’t be that bad, Y/N. Christian is actually one of the nicest guys I know.” She responded.
“Nicest? Girl, your standard on ‘nice’ must be low. Christian is nowhere near ‘nice.’” You disagreed with her.
“Hmm, I think I see what’s going on here...” She covered her mouth and giggled a little. “You can’t stand him because you have feelings for him.”
“Exac- wait what?” A look of surprise appeared on your face.
“If by ‘feelings’ you mean like loathe, exasperation, then yes, you are so right.” You corrected her.
“Please, quit playing Y/N,” she teased you, “you know what I’m talking about.”
You rolled your eyes, “Claire, you have got to stop romanticizing things. I just really don’t like Christian.”
“Oh, you adorable oblivious idiot,” she said as she pinched your cheeks, “believe me when I say you two have the connection I’ve never seen before!”
“Uh, what the hell? Are you fucking rambling right now?” Confusion was written all over your face.
“I saw how you guys were during the party!” Claire exclaimed joyfully. “There was definitely something between the two of you. Now you’re telling me you don’t like him? Nah, I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just in denial.”
“Okay, I think you’ve had enough champagne, lady,” you said as you took the glass on her hand and put it away, “I’m not in denial or anything, he and I are just too different.”
You then told her everything that happened during the day when you and Christian were planning the engagement party. Claire was so entertained by your story, she thought you and Christian had so much chemistry.
“Also, first impressions matter,” you added. “I didn’t tell you this, but remember the dinner when you and Nick introduced me to Christian? He was really rude to me that night. I don’t want to go into details but yeah, I don’t like him.”
Claire was silent, but her facial expression at the moment spoke a million words. She clearly didn’t believe everything you said because she was so sure you had feelings – romantic feelings – towards Christian. You were just too stubborn to notice it.
“Plus, he stole my ice cream and berries, Claire. My ice cream and berries. You know how protective I am when it comes to my food.”
She laughed. “Trust me, Y/N. I know.”
---
“You look so good in this tux, bro. Very sharp.”
“Thanks, man,” Nick looked at himself in the mirror, pleased with the tuxedo he had on. “I like this one too.”
“By the way, Did Y/N tell you how the dress shopping went?” Nick asked.
Christian squinted. “Umm... No? And why would they?”
“I thought you two are close now? Aren’t you like, texting and all?”
“No, Nick. Just because we did something together doesn’t instantly make us friends.” He shrugged his shoulders with his hands up. “You don’t know this but planning your party with them was a torture. They are like, so stubborn and aggravating. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve not put up with them.”
“But you guys pulled it off perfectly! It must be a good sign, no?”
“Yeah, because we had to!” He insisted. “Do you know how long it took for us to finally come up with the plan?”
“A day?”
“Yes but it felt like eternity... In hell.” Christian heavily sighed. “We were basically screaming and yelling at each other. It was a lot.”
“Mmhm... Passion.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Bro, come on, it’s obvious,” Nick chuckled. “You two have this burning passion between you.”
“Yeah right” Christian laughed. “Passion my ass.”
Nick saw an opportunity to tease Christian. “Well, Chris, Webster’s dictionary defines passion as a strong liking or desi-“
“Man, I beg you to stop,” he interrupted Nick mid-sentence because he knew what was coming. “You sound ridiculous.”
“Okay then,” Nick turned around to face Christian, “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me loud and clear you did not enjoy the time you spent with them.”
“I... I don’t...” He stuttered, his voice was getting smaller. He turned his head sideways, couldn’t even make eye contact with Nick.
“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mumbled, Nick could barely hear him.
“Ha!” Nick pointed at him. “You can’t even look me in the eyes and say shit out loud. Admit it Christian, you like them!”
“Uh, shut up Nick,” he was embarrassed, his cheeks were blushing red. “Aren’t we here to get you a tuxedo? For your wedding?”
“Ah, yes, classic sign of denial: trying to change the subject.” Nick said jokingly.
“I wasn’t, gah,” Christian groaned. “Just pick a tux, Nick. Please.”
---
You just got home after spending most of the day in a bridal shop. You were exhausted, but at least you did help Claire find her perfect wedding dress – it was worth it.
While you changed your clothes, you heard your phone ringing multiple times. Who the hell texted me this late? You then went to check your phone, and saw 5 unread texts from an unknown number.
Hey, Y/N, this is Christian Pulisic
Idk if you remember me lol
Hope I’m not bothering you or anything
How did the dress shopping go btw
Did you have a good time?
Your jaw just dropped. Holy shit, why is he texting me all of the sudden? You didn’t expect him to reach out to you that night. You didn’t even save his contact on your phone. You kept staring at those texts, not even aware that you were smiling while biting your nails. You weren't sure whether you should text him back right away or wait for a while – and before you knew it, your messages were already sent.
of course I remember u dumbass haha
just got home. it went great, she found the dress 👍
what about u guys?
You just locked your phone screen and were about to put it away when you saw new messages from Christian.
Good to know! 😄👏
He did too. Didn’t take long thank God
Are you going to sleep now?
That was fast... Is he bored or something?
I am actually.. today was a long day
i’m pretty tired tbh
u?
30 seconds later, you received some replies from him.
I think I am too.
Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams
Talk to you soon 😊
Another smile appeared on your face – but this time it was bigger. At the same time, you questioned his intention: why is he being so nice to me?
good night Christian
After sending that message, you charged your phone right away then went to lay on your bed. Fuck, what is happening to me? You covered your face with a pillow and let out a shriek. Dammit Y/N, remember how unbearable he is! You tried to come to your senses. You kept reassuring yourself he wasn’t someone you could see yourself having any kind of relationship with. You and him were supposed to get along only for the sake of the bride and groom – and the the wedding festivities come to an end, that would be it for you two.
And at this moment, doubts filled your mind. After the conversation you had with Claire, you couldn’t help but wonder if you really did have some kind of feelings for Christian. The differences between you two were just too much for you to handle – or so you thought. Before you went to sleep, you whispered to yourself repeatedly: ‘Don’t be a fool Y/N, nothing could happen between you and Christian.’ You didn’t realize that Claire was right – you were in denial.
---
Christian couldn’t stop thinking about what Nick said. Passion? What was he talking about? He wanted to believe Nick was talking nonsense but he wasn’t even sure. He didn’t even know whether he had experienced ‘passion’ before.
He also recalled how you said to him that you two were just so different. He thought to himself: how can you have a passion for someone who is a complete opposite? Somehow, you were on his mind – he couldn’t think of anything else but you. He still perceived you as somewhat maddening, but he did enjoy your presence.
Suddenly, he wanted to know how you were doing. No, not about the dress shopping – you. After pondering on whether or not it was okay to text you, he finally gained his courage to do so. It took him a while, he was really nervous but he sent the messages anyway. He didn’t expect you to respond – he was sure she hated you, also it was already a late night – but when he saw your replies, he was so relieved. His face lit up the whole time.
good night Christian
That message from you made him beaming – he went to sleep that night feeling content, already excited for the next day. Little did he know, you were struggling with your own feelings.
---
taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @mortirolo @masonsrem @cinderellawithashoe @alwaysclassyeagle @ala2ilas-s
#christian pulisic#christian pulisic x y/n#christian pulisic x reader#christian pulisic fanfic#christian pulisic fic#christian pulisic imagines#christian pulisic fic series#polar opposites series
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The Sun will Shine on us Again!
RRR short drabble. RamBheem. No warnings.
Bheem teaches Ram how to hope. How to count his blessings.
Coming out of my retirement to write for my friend @carminavulcana. She deserves all the love/positivity right now, and she categorically demanded that I don't give up writing.
......................................................................................
It was no secret that Ram and Bheem were poles apart. Yin and Yang. Classic case of opposites attract. Two forces of nature, brought together by destiny.
Ram looked at life as a duty. Always dreading new curveballs that his treacherous destiny would throw his way next.
Bheem looked at life as a journey with both ups and downs. The lows can be low, but the highs can be very high. Irrespective, life finds a way for you sooner or later if you submit to the journey and trust enough. If you give all you have, yet not losing hope that someone up there has some plan for you.
The differing mindsets came to the fore many times. This was one of those times.
Ram and Bheem were sitting on a makeshift bench in the community courtyard while the villagers in Adilabad were gearing up to prepare for a wedding that evening. The first major celebration since Bheem had safely brought Malli home a month back.
They looked at the festive mood. Dressed-up women rushed from one hut to the other, checking if anyone needed any help. Men checked the arrangements and food preparations. Bride and groom getting ready in huts far apart, with their set of friends giggling around them.
The energy and joy were contagious. It made Bheem giddy. It made Ram melancholic.
Both had come back from a week-long trip just that morning. They needed to do some supply runs and check for any information on enemies sniffing around them. The trip was a mixed bag. The nearby villages were iffy to join in the revolution - not finding the courage to fight or get involved in something that was ‘not their fight.’ Ram made a passionate speech that it was everybody’s fight. But Bheem saw the fear behind the hesitation and stopped Ram from insisting further. He wished everyone well and walked away, leaving Ram extremely confused and borderline irritated.
The irritation intensified with the celebratory mood.
‘Anna - what’s wrong?’
Bheem had been side-eyeing Ram for a while. His constant foot tapping a giveaway to his restlessness.
‘The question should be - ‘what’s right’? And the answer is ‘fucking nothing.’
Bheem glared at Ram for using the curse word when the women & children were so close by. Ram looked at him in disbelief.
‘Seriously, that’s what bothers you? Not the zillion more terminal things facing us?’
‘Yes. Because none of that is an excuse for us to misbehave like this.’
‘WHY? WHY THE HELL NOT?’
‘If a man had a terrible day at work, if he worked for 18 hours like a donkey but still got humiliated every second, would it be justified for him to come back drunk & slap his wife, to take out his frustration on her?’
When Ram stayed mum, clean-bowled by his analogy, Bheem patted his shoulder and smiled at him.
Ram jerked under his touch and slid a bit further away on the bench. He didn’t like being schooled like that.
Bheem gave him his space and went back to enjoying the hustle and bustle, forgetting all his troubles in the momentary joys.
Ram felt like a child who had just thrown a tantrum, which was not being entertained by any elder.
That irritated him further. Ram knew he wasn’t talking crap. His misgivings were justified. He wasn’t throwing a fit for no reason. In fact, if anyone was being unreasonable, it was Bheem. For ignoring the obvious. For not worrying about the mountain of danger staring them in the face.
‘Isn’t this silly, Bheem? This celebration, this community gathering, isn’t all of this pointless? How could any of you lose focus on such trivialities? We are being constantly hunted. We just heard on our trip how the Empire has brought in heavy reinforcements. They want to make an example of us. They want to skin us alive for the country to see what happens if anyone revolts against them. We should be thinking of plans, strategies, supplies, and alliances, instead of frolicking around like this. Can you not see it, or are you being blind on purpose?’
Upon hearing this tirade, Bheem swiftly dragged Ram to the edge of the courtyard, near the trees, away from everyone else. They didn’t need to hear his cynicism.
‘Anna - have you ever stopped worrying about tomorrow and focused on the now? Have you ever tried to count your blessings?’
Ram looked at him like he had suddenly grown horns.
‘My blessings? Mine?’
‘Yes, yours.’
‘And what would those be, pray tell?’
‘For starters, you are alive, aren’t you?’
Bheem had never been this upfront with Ram before. Never used this direct tone before. It made the older man sit up and take notice.
And he wasn’t wrong. Rotting in that solitary cell, Ram didn’t think he would survive. But he did. Because of Bheem.
‘You have food to eat, a roof over your head, clothes to cover yourself. Most importantly, you have people who love you unconditionally. The people in your village - they will follow you to the end of this world. Even though they didn’t hear from you in years, their trust in you remains. Is that not something to be thankful for?’
Well, Ram hadn’t thought of it that way. Amidst all the burden of responsibilities and the guilt of not getting to his Baba’s target fast enough, he never paused to count his blessings. He didn’t think there were any. Did he take his people and their love for him for granted? Ram couldn’t tell anymore.
He never thought how his Uncle gave up everything for the mission too and made his whole life about Ram, leaving his own family behind in the village. Yet, he never compromised his morals, unlike his wretched nephew. The man had a silent strength, like his Baba, and he shielded Ram with everything he had. In all these years, Ram had never heard him complain or crib about his duties. Why couldn’t he do the same? Did he not have the fortitude of his Uncle? Did he not have his spirit? Why did he put himself in a jail of his own making all these years?
Bheem watched how his words had started to resonate. And like the hunter that he was, he went for the kill then.
‘You also have the most valuable blessing in the world, in the form of that woman over there who worships you. Her trust never wavered, her love never faded, her hope never vanished, her spirit is as resolute as ever. The only thing that has changed is you. She sees a man devoid of feelings, a broken shell of a man. Was this the Ram she knew all her life? The one she waited for, the one she will wait for, always, not matter what happens. Is this what she deserves, the remnants of whatever soul you had, because you refuse to stop blaming yourself for everything?’
That hurt. Like a slap in the face. Ram recoiled from the imaginary impact. His heart’s shield was compromised, but his brain refused to submit.
What did Bheem know of what Ram went through all these years? What did he know of his pain? He was alone in a world he hated, in the company that looked down on him, that treated him like some despicable rodent. He had always been alone. What did Bheem know of that?
Ram didn’t realise he had blurted half of it out loud. It was Bheem’s turn to give him a melancholic smile.
‘Anna - you are not the only one touched by tragedy. My parents died when I was very young too. My father was murdered, brutally. In front of the village. And he wasn’t even starting a revolution. He was killed for just being who he was. Who I am. Who they hate. For breathing in the same air as they do. For living on the same land. For just existing. They hate us for that. And they killed my father for it. I saw it too. And then, I saw my mother wither away from the pain of it.’
Why didn’t Ram know this? Why hadn’t Bheem shared this before? But then, Bheem rarely talked about his troubles. Bearing them on his soul, yet managing to keep it intact and alive. Ram was so envious of that ability.
No one could tell Bheem was carrying such a burden. While everyone could tell something was wrong with Ram from a mile away. Bheem was stronger, not just in physical abilities.
‘I was made protector at the age of 15, because I was my father’s son. The burden of that duty was beyond anything I could imagine, but I did it out of love. Till date, it hasn’t felt like an obligation, something that is tying me down. My people look at me the same way yours look at you. But I draw my strength from it, instead of being weighed down.’
Bheem was saying a lot without saying much directly. Quite frankly, no one had spoken that way to Ram in his life. Shown him the mirror like this. Sita could have, but for some reason, she hadn’t. Was it out of love or unconditional faith? Ram didn’t know. Maybe she didn’t think Ram was ready to face the harsh truth, that she was as much a victim of this whole thing as he was, yet she came out of it like a warrior, and his real self had succumbed to the pain of it.
She was also stronger than him. Like Bheem. Like his uncle. The list was getting longer.
Bheem wasn’t done yet. It killed him to speak that way to his Anna. But it needed to be done. Ram was killing himself every day, and Bheem couldn’t bear to see it anymore. To see his best friend throw away his life like this.
‘Look at these people, Anna. Do you think they haven’t lost loved ones? They haven’t been subjected to the trauma that you and I have? I can tell you one thing safely - every man, woman and child in this village knows about loss. About fear. About death. About injustice. Should they give up hope and live in that gloom every second of their life? No, they will wither away like that. As would you. The glass will always be half empty - such is the way of life. At least, our life. Which is probably one tier below your village also, since we don’t have the protection of caste, or civilisation, or traditional education. But if we stop living, stop trying to find joys in little things, then what are we even fighting for? Isn’t the purpose of life to be happy? Isn’t that the goal for everyone?’
Ram felt like he was in the city square in Delhi, tied, while Bheem was giving him whiplashes. Not physically, but with his words. They didn’t hurt much lesser than the actual ones.
He suddenly felt very small for holding this tiny celebration against the villagers. If he had killed his spirit, that didn’t mean everyone else’s had died too.
‘I think you get my point already, my dear brother. Life is too short. It will be what we make of it. At least, we can try right? It will keep throwing curveballs like it always does. But we can run, dodge, duck, do whatever it takes to survive. Time and tide wait for none. Life carries on. We have to find a way to go along with it, and make whatever memories we can in that short span. We can’t control everything. Heck we can’t control anything. But there is still joy and respite in believing. In going with the flow. In trusting the universe. You tell me, if there was no divine intervention, then what the hell is that woman doing in my life?’
Ram looked up to see his friend gazing adoringly at Jenny, who had dressed in ethnic attire today, and was sitting in the middle of the ladies, playing with their little ones.
Their bond had flummoxed the hell out of Ram. It was the most impractical, illogical and nearly impossible thing in the world. They barely even understood each others’ words. Yet, here they were. Together. Fighting all odds. It didn’t make any sense, yet, somehow, it was their reality. Some stars had aligned somewhere to make this work.
Bheem turned to his friend then. Smiling. Gosh, that smile was infectious. And those eyes, which were a window to his pure soul, were gleaming with hope too.
‘Someday, Anna, our kids will call this country their own. Our future generations will live with pride and rights. No amount of oppression can block that. It’s only a matter of time. We may lose a few battles in the next few decades. We may even have to sacrifice our lives. But, we will win the war. I know it in my heart. And that, Anna, is what gives me hope. Despite the setbacks we face every day.’
Ram’s mouth opened and closed like a mute duck. He didn’t know what to feel. Rather, he was feeling way too much after many years, and he didn’t know how to handle that. He didn’t know what to do with himself.
Bheem wrapped an arm around his shoulder, his usual sunshine smile plastered on his face. He looked so much like the Akhtar he had known. His best friend. His only friend.
‘Go towards what gives you hope, that’s all I can tell you. That’s what will bring you peace. I am going to mine now, will you go to yours?’
He wiggled his eyes in Ram’s face and then jogged back to the gathering.
Jenny had saved a spot next to hers. Bheem went straight to her and sat down. Their eyes met. Followed by their hands. In a few seconds, they were submerged in their own world. Dreaming of a future.
Ram wanted to throw a rock at Bheem that very instant, for being able to switch off so easily. While a zillion therapists would quit their profession if tasked with sorting out Ram.
But Ram didn’t need a zillion therapists. His Bheem was enough.
He thought back to Bheem’s last words, which he uttered while jogging back.
‘I forgot to mention myself in your list of blessings. You have me. What more do you want? People tend to find me quite loveable and adorable.’
He was indeed that. And a lot more. Bheem had saved Ram in more ways than one. He had shown him the right path. And maybe, just now, he had saved him one more time.
Ram looked tentatively at Sita, who looked as serene as ever. She hadn’t saved a spot next to hers. She didn’t have the assurance of Ram’s company and togetherness. Because unlike Bheem, he hadn’t made any conscious effort to communicate. While Bheem had poured his heart out in the last one month, despite the language barrier, Ram had barely spoken to Sita outside of the things necessary for the mission.
Was Bheem right? Was potential contentment staring him in his face and he was too blind to see it?
Life is what you make of it.
These precious words of his closest friend played in his heart over and over. Maybe there was hope after all, even for someone as beyond redemption as him.
Maybe, the sun will shine on them again. Soon. And forever this time.
.............................................................................
Whoever got the reference of 'the sun will shine on us again' is extra special - it's my favorite movie bond ever :)
Would love to hear your thoughts, as always :)
@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97 @voidsteffy @maooyinysparkle @amalthea9 @vijayasena @stars-in-the-distance @astrafangs
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Wow, I didn't expect all the staff of the Hazbin Hotel, but thank you, it was interesting. Well, now I wonder how VVV will react to this, I think that even for them it will be too much, even for Valentino, and yes, I think that out of the three of them, Vox will be very shocked by this news
Anon I’m sorry for taking so long to get to this ask but here you go!!
How the vees react to finding out about rosecest / Percy
First of all a lot of my headcanons around the vees are highly influenced by @lunarbroadcast and her selfship with Vox, so you’ll be hearing a lot about her s/I Lyra
Vox
Oh boyyyy he’s pissed, not for any sort of moral reason but because he CANT EVEN HAVE HIS OWN FUCKING SCANDAL!! Of course that old prick has to ALSO be grooming some kid (part of him wonders if alastor is just doing it to compete with him but he’d never admit it)
As for how he found out, it was all thanks to Lyra. His little doll has been staying at the hotel for a while (think like Pentious in ep 2 but like,,,actually good at spying) so he basically got a front row seat for everything
Sure he’s shocked and everything, but what’s more important is making sure NOTHING gets out to the public. After all he has an appearance to maintain, gotta keep those investors happy! (he really doesn’t have time to get someone to clean up another bloody mess from Valentino)
Vox was already paranoid about his own less then savory action getting out, the reveal of Percy’s existence / rosecest makes that so much worse. Anyone starts posting rumors? they’re gone missing, a news team tries to look into it? well they’re not coming back for a while..
He can’t even use Percy’s existence or their relationship as blackmail, I mean he could but Vox isn’t stupid enough to risk getting alastor angry
ABSOLUTELY NONE of his employees is allowed to even bring it up, it’s simply safer like that. If some idiot does try and talk about it Vox will just hypnotize the fool back in line. Oh and a cut to their paychecks
Vox can hear the headlines if this were to get out to the media “overlord caught with underage child!” “The dark truth behind alastor” “the radio demon: predator or misguided father.” And is 100% convinced if alastor was found out then the media would turn to him next. So the two overlords are stuck in this weird relationship where both would do anything to keep the other’s secret safe but only because it benefits their own selfish needs
Valentino
He’s immediately interested in Percy.. after all a such naive little cutie is the perfect candidate for stardom and a deal
somehow he gets creepier then he already is.. absolutely no one wants these two to meet
The other two tried to keep it a secret from him for as long as possible, unfortunately he’s one nosy man and CANNOT stay out of any unfolding drama
His feelings about the relationship are probably the most “positive” out of any of the vees, except it’s in a “that’s hot, can I watch?” Way rather then actually accepting the relationship
He’s of course not stupid enough to risk getting torn apart by Alastor for trying anything, but god he wants to..
Vellvette
Being the newest and youngest vee, she’s frankly HORRIFIED by it
She doesn’t have the years of fear built up around alastor like the other two do, so she’s likely to actually go after alastor for his actions (which no matter what doesn’t end well for her)
Vellvette honestly feels really sorry for Percy, she hates seeing A LITERAL CHILD being trapped and abused like Percy is (she’d never admit it though) but Vox has caught her sobbing on more then one occasion
Girl needs to be physically held back from going after alastor personally once she finds out
#sorry this one is so short#I’m not the best with characterizing them yet#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel vox#vox#hazbin vox#valentino#hazbin hotel#hazbin vees#hazbin valentino#hazbin velvette#proship please interact#proship self ship#selfship proship#proshippers#proshippers please interact#proship selfship#proshipper#proshipping#💌
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