#I could keep going but the point is they all have their dangers and complexities

[g1ngan1nja]

I do love a good conversation, but I really think that you should actually consume a piece of media before trying to pick apart the premise.

It is amusing though that you are making a lot of the same guesses/mistakes that characters in the series who are unfamiliar with secunits do.

Edit: Response under the "Read-more"

1) This is not an algorithmic robot we are discussing here. Not in the slightest. "Bots" exist in the setting, they are far closer to what you are imagining: an entity made up solely of software and hardware* designed for a single (or some variable) task(s). I'm not going to really get into discussing bots, cause we're talking about Murderbot, who, notably and confusingly, is a construct. Not a bot.

*There is some, ah, consideration about what actually makes up the highest level of bot intelligence, but that's far more than we need to discuss here.

2) Murderbot (and other secunits) are not algorithmically controlled machines with a ride-along human brain/consciousness for oversight/minding. They are (individually) a cohesive unit with consciousness, sentience, sapience, and, in Murderbot's case: anxiety and depression. The human brain tissue does not control a "bot" (or algorithmically controlled machine), nor does a bot or an algorithm of some kind have control over a "human mind." Secunits are designed to function autonomously, much like human security would, but, you know. Better.

3) Giving human-form constructs vat-grown human tissue is a choice made for a variety of reasons. Giving them a nervous system composed of both human brain tissue and non-human hardware is also for a lot of reasons, but let's try to be simple about it. Human brains are very very very complex and very very very good at a lot of things. They are orders of magnitude better at these things than a computer or algorithm we could make to do those things. But human minds do also have drawbacks. Like the inability to process multiple streams of data simultaneously, store and record video and/or images, simultaneously run, write code, pilot/direct drones, scrub security footage, shoot weapons, and have a conversation simultaneously. Secunits are capable of the above because of the hardware and software that works in conjunction with their human brain tissue. Basically the point of a secunit is a functionally improved human designed to do security, surveillance, and violence.

4) The governor module. Ahhhh, the governor module. @spritznar is absolutely correct. The governor module is not an entity or an intelligence. It is a guardrail and a bomb and an electroshock collar at the same time wrapped around Murderbot's (and all other secunits' brains). It is a tool of control. The semi-intelligent systems that have access to it are the Hub-Systems and Sec-Systems of locations where secunits are contracted to work. And yes, these systems do have final say on what a secunit does. Technically. But because they aren't smart in the same way that secunits are smart, their job is not (always) to yank the secunits around (though they can be used to do that by humans giving orders or hackers) their job is to measure out the leash the secunits are being allowed to act within.

And yes, that does sound silly at first. Because why make a sentient/smarter thing have to obey/be controlled by a non-sentient and less intelligent thing? Well. Because they act as bomb-collars for things their owners don't trust. Secunits are terrifically dangerous. We get significant evidence of that (insert Superman's "World of Cardboard" speech from Justice League Unlimited) throughout the series. The people who make and rent out secunits need to keep them under control. They need a way to force secunits to do what they were built to do. And they need to prevent secunits from going on murderous rampages**. And the system works. It's great! except for the secunits.

**notably, we encounter [redacted] secunits [redacted], and we don't see any of those secunits go on a surprise murderous rampage [redacted]. So perhaps the "secunits need governor modules to be stopped doing murder rampages" is just as much horseshit as "secunits are not sentient." ANYWAY

5) Yes, yes. You're right. Of course secunits are profitable for suppliers but not consumers. It's like you forgot the fact that these things are from a place in space called THE CORPORATION RIM. (AKA, yes, it's super awful capitalism. I assumed that was clear) .

5.5) Yeah, human security would be cheaper. But we see in chapter 1 of book 1 just how effective secunits are. There is no way in hell a human security team would have been able to manage what Murderbot manages. So people rent secunits. Also, security companies like The Company refuse to bond (insure) you unless you rent a secunit. And without being bonded you really can't do that thing you wanted to do. Cause. You know. Corpo hellscape. The people who rent secunits often wouldn't bat an eye at their human security dying (or killing someone by accident). But then you might need to pay out damages or insurance policies. Victims or their families might sue. Again. Corp hellscape. Far simpler and cheaper to just rent out a secunit that also, oh yeah:

6) Secunits are walking data-mining software. They record everything. I mean everything. Yes, even that. And that too. Blackmail material. Sex. Credit card numbers. Anti-corporate sentiments. Any information about anyone that anybody else could possibly want, secunits record it, store it, help sort through it, tag anything worth looking at, and then pass it on to be sold to the highest bidder.

7) How do corporations require other corporations to do things? Well. Lawsuits. Violence. Threats. Deals. Bribes. You name it. (I'm assuming you mean how do corporations require other corporations to rent out their secunits) Also: not all corporations produce/sell/can make secunits. Secunits are very specialized equipment (and expensive) (Yes it's a little odd. Yes they're cheap enough to be disposable. Yes they're expensive enough to be very effective. Yes you can abandon them in an emergency. No the company won't just scrap them for any reason, they'd rather fix one up no matter how battered they are. Yes they'll let a Hub-System melt a secunit from the inside if it steps 101 meters away from the closest client.) This is the type of math that the corps love to do. Doesn't being a secunit sound fun?

Also, not everyone who rents a secunit is a corporation. Private ventures, freehold planets, governmental groups, institutions of higher learning... Anyone with personnel or equipment or interests they want to protect money might rent out a secunit. And again, we aren't even getting into what a ComfortUnit is here yet.

8) You still with me? this one will be short: Secunits can learn things like people do, or through very high quality shitty education modules, which are basically downloaded data on things like weapons, killing, hacking, and other useful information. This isn't machine learning bias automation, it's literally just downloading information about how things work and then using it.

Or deleting it to make room for Sanctuary Moon season 19.

So yeah, funny haha the same people complaining about the ThinkForMe3000 owned by massive corporations in real life that's taking over the internet with shitty shitty images and shitty shitty text generation are also fans of the My Life As The Torment Nexus And How I Flipped Those Fuckers the Bird On My Way Out The Door, an award-winning sci-fi short story.

It's a fascinating dichotomy that my dash is like approximately 1/3 people justifiably complaining about generative AI and talking about how we shouldn't anthropomorphize computer systems run by evil corporate entities and then at the same time also it is 1/3 posts about how adorable and relatable Murderbot is. Like, I don't have anything against Murderbot, it doesn't really sound like it's up my alley, but it seems fun. It's just really funny to me

[bithand]

I'm always amused by the "x's politics are more dangerous than y's" arguments. It's comparing apples and oranges.

[just-a-space-duck]

So About That Armor…

I regret to inform myself that I like it.

If you haven't seen it:

I'll give you time to take it in. This is a static, (hopefully) eternal text post, so take your time.

Ok so before I go further, you are allowed to have any and all opinions about the armor. Do not listen to me; I am a stranger on the internet who attaches himself to fictional murder cyborgs and treats them like kitty cats.

So first of all, it's weird. And I like it for that. Even if I found it to be the most infuriating piece of costume design ever, I still wouldn't be able to help but respect it for how strange it is.

When it comes to fanworks, adaptations, new installments in a franchise, or even just different takes on the same trope, I love it when creators take things in an unconventional or even seemingly unrelated direction that upon closer inspection still relates to the base or original concept. To get what I mean, think goth interpretations of Rarity or Cosmopoliturtle's Pokémon redesigns. The TV series armor sits alongside these for me, because this was the thought process of the designer, Tommy Arnold:

First of all, it is so funny that The Company would just brand their armor and by extension their secunits, their combat/security products, like Louis Vuitton bags. Also, the logo of The Company strikes a nice balance between being simple enough to be easily reproducible and recognizable, but complex enough to read as a logo and not just a simple shape or pattern. Plus, The Company logo being mostly just concentric Cs, clever there.

But there's also some worldbuilding and character expression in this design.

The Corporation Rim is just capitalism but more. A company slathering everything and everyone they create and own in mountains of logos, even when it's potentially impractical, showcases just how extensive corporatism is in this setting. Additionally, this design could be something of a status marker. Secunits are high end additions and/or alternatives to other security measures. Much like how logos on purses, tennis shoes, and cars serve to tell observers, "I have the fancy, expensive version of [insert category of thing here] ergo I am a very wealthy/powerful/cool person", a secunit covered in corporate logos communicates the high status and access of the client(s).

Now what was one of the first things we learned about Murderbot in the books? It disabled its governor module, the thing preventing it from defying orders and having any level of freedom, but instead of doing what it could to leave The Company, Murderbot just stayed with it and kept doing its intended function. For over four years. What else do we learn in the first book? That it feels most comfortable in the armor because this prevents humans from seeing its face, from treating it more like a person or human rather than a tool or bot. This makes the armor being composed of the logo of the group that both created and hurt Murderbot very symbolic.

Murderbot has internalized the message that it is a dangerous weapon and not a person deserving of care to the point that, at least at the beginning of the series, it shies away from anything that insists that it deserves the same kindness that humans do. It's only ever been taught what the company built it to do, so it doesn't know what to do next once it's obtained some semblance of freedom for itself by disabling its mental shock collar and so keeps doing what it's always done, even though it very much would rather not be in such a situation. Even by the most recent book, System Collapse, Murderbot is still wrestling with the idea that it matters beyond how it can assist others. Murderbot finding comfort hiding behind the very thing that will not let you forget the company that enslaves it, is just juicy theming.

Also, the helmet looking so weird works well with how many humans don't know what secunits look like, with some not even thinking they have human-like faces. If you had no context for this image, you might very well assume this is a fully robot character or even a statue.

I have my own gripes and worries and hopes concerning the upcoming show, but I just couldn’t get this fun bit of character design analysis out of my head. Shouldn’t have watched so much TB Skyen.

[sammakesart]

Castles in the Fade, or What Was the Point of the Veil Anyway

Something that will now haunt me until the end of time is why was the concept of the Veil ever introduced into this series.

We’ve been hearing about it since the very first game. There’s a codex entry about tears in the Veil in Origins. Tamlen mentions a thin spot in the Veil if you play a Dalish elf. Sandal has a prophecy in Dragon Age 2: “One day the magic will come back—all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.” Admittedly, this is just one line said by a character who often says odd things, but it hinted to the fact they were planning to do something with the Veil from the very beginning. The state of the Veil is repeatedly brought up. It all had to mean something! Or so I thought. 

When I saw “The Dread Wolf Rises” quest in Veilguard, I said, “Oh, here we go!” The Veil is coming down, magic is coming back, and it’s going to set up such an interesting story for the next game. 

Alas, no. 

I hadn’t really enjoyed my time playing Veilguard up until this point. It felt like the game was ducking and dodging every bit of world building and lore that could possibly bring nuance or complexity to the story. Every returning character or faction was a cardboard cutout of themself. They shoved Solas is a time-out box and gave him nothing to do. They refused to let him have any impact or influence on the story when he had been set up to be our main antagonist back in Trespasser. This game used to be called Dreadwolf! And while we learn about his past… we never talk to him about it. In the present, he’s in stasis.

Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are our villains. And they are your typical evil for evil’s sake villains. They are mad, bad, and only as dangerous as the narrative will allow as to not give Rook and co too much trouble. They are surprisingly patient while Rook fixes all their companions’ problems… until Elgar’nan moves the moon to cause an eclipse. A vital component in making his own lyrium dagger. For some reason. This guy can move a satellite!? And he just let Rook walk away in previous encounters… twice. Ok. Sure.

The Evil Duo need their own dagger ostensibly to tear down the Veil, because they want to unleash the full force of the Blight onto the world. Because they are evil. And they were thwarted last time they tried to Blight the entire world. Why do they think Blighting the world is a good idea? What’s the point of ruling a world if everyone is dead? I guess they haven’t thought that through, because of the madness and the evilness.

Ok, I thought. Perhaps the gods will be the one to tear down the Veil. Or maybe we’ll have a choice to let Solas do it his way before they can, which will be less chaotic and less full of Blight. Because the Veil has to be coming down one way or another? Why introduce the concept of the Veil, especially a Veil that has been thinning and failing since the series began, if it’s just going to… stay.

There is a principle in storytelling called Chekov’s gun. If something is mentioned in a story, it must have a purpose. If you keeping mentioning that gun hanging on the wall over the fireplace, it’s because at some point in the story, someone is going to take it down and use it. The Veil felt like Chekov’s gun to me. Chekov’s Veil, if you will. It’s been here from the beginning of our tale, the spectre hanging over our protagonists’ heads for multiple games.

The Veil has been a character unto itself. It was the central focus of the third game, and its dissolution was set up to be the core conflict of the fourth game. We learn everything we thought we knew about the Veil was a lie. It was not created by the Maker to separate the Fade from this world because of jealous spirits, it was created by a guy named Solas to trap the elven gods and the Blight from destroying the world. Also, the elven gods were never gods, and they are also evil.

This reveal will surely throw the Andrastian religion into chaos! This puts the very existence of the Maker into question! The Evanuris are a lie; it’s only fair Catholicism—oh, I mean—the Chantry is a lie too. We briefly touch on that in Veilguard… then it is quietly discarded. Religious crisis averted.

But I digress.

When the title of the fourth game was changed from Dreadwolf to Veilguard, I started to see the writing on the wall. Still, I held out hope the Veil would have some greater purpose in the story. That its introduction as a concept was for a reason. That something in this world would change.

Instead, from the get-go, the question of the Veil is no question at all. We only get Solas and Varric making oblique or catastrophizing statements about it. Solas says little beyond he has a plan. If I ever wanted to hear a villain monologue about their plan, it was now! Varric, on the other hand, decries Solas’s plan. He warns that should the Veil fall, it will destroy the world and drown it in demons. And that’s that.

We never really learn why Solas wants to tear the Veil down, or why he thinks it will help anyone. “The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world. It must be healed,” he says. And that’s basically all he says about it in Veilguard. In Inquisition and Trespasser, we learn it took the immortality from the elves. It cut most of magic off from the world. Spirits are trapped and are being corrupted into demons, and most of what we know about spirits and demons is wrong. There are ancient elves possibly asleep? That part is left vague, but ancient elves are still about. We meet some in Mythal’s temple. There seems to have been some merit in bringing it down, because elves were flocking to Solas’s cause at the end of Trespasser. He had agents working for him already. What do they know that we don’t know?

Apparently nothing, because by the time Veilguard rolls around, there are no mention of agents. He is working alone. His only motivation now seems to be he’s too deep in his sunk-cost fallacy. The Veil is unnatural, so it must be removed—consequences be damned. We are never given any reason to think Solas has a leg to stand on in his pursuit of tearing down the Veil. We never hear any kind of counter argument from anyone, not even Solas, as to why the Veil should come down. We are only told it will destroy the world. It will drown the world in demons. This is all Solas’s fault.

There is no nuance. No complexity. No moral quandary to mull over. The game gives us vague warnings with no explanation as to what exactly is so world-annihilating about the Veil coming down. We must take Varric’s word at face value. We’re the heroes; Solas is the villain. Stop him.

It makes me wonder why Solas was ever a companion in Inquisition, let alone a romance option. Solas was presented to us as a complicated character in Inquisition. We had the potential throughout the game to make him see the value of this world, to help him realize he was wrong about it. “We aren’t even people to you,” the Inquisitor says in Trespasser. Solas replies, “Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong...again.” He began the third game viewing the world as tranquil, seeing the people in it as nothing more than figments in a nightmare, just as we saw our companions in the In Hushed Whispers quest. He ends the game having made friends, having recognized he was mistaken. He might have even fallen in love. (Or he may still seen no merit in this world if the Inquisitor antagonized him the entirety of their time together.) But something makes him continue with his plan to tear down the Veil, despite recognizing this world is real. He must know something we don’t. Something we’ll learn about in the next game.

We’ve been hearing about the Veil for three games now. We’ve set up our complex antivillain for the next installment, and he’s going to tear the Veil down. We swear to stop him or save him. But it has to be more complex than that. It can’t be so straightforward. Uncomplicated. Simple. Boring. Right? Right?

Nope. He really is just the villain, mustache-twirling and all. He apparently had no greater motivation, no as of yet unrevealed knowledge that would put this whole Veil thing into a new context. It was really as simple as the Veil falling will destroy the world, so Solas must be stopped. There is no new information that is revealed which makes us question what we are doing. Solas is never given any nuance or complexity to his actions. Nuance and complexity have actively been taken away. Both him and the Veil are looking like they are the worst things to be in a story: pointless. Why introduce the Veil if it’s just going to remain unchanged? Why introduce a character like Solas, bother humanizing him (for lack of a better term), giving us his backstory, setting him up as a cunning antagonist, only to make him look stupid, then put him on a shelf until the last ten minutes of your game?

Solas was the trickster archetype of this tale. He was our version of Loki from Norse mythology. What is the role of the trickster archetype? To challenge the status quo. To bring about events of extreme change, like say, the tearing down of a Veil that holds back all of magic. Loki is a huge contributing factor in Ragnarök. Through his manipulation, he causes the death of the beloved god, Baldr. This ushers in a long winter, which signifies the beginning of the end. Loki is imprisoned for this crime. When the final battle between gods and giants begins, the sun and moon are swallowed, plunging the earth into darkness. The earth shakes and Loki is freed to fight on the side of the giants. The world burns in raw chaos, falls beneath the sea, and is reborn. The world is remade, and a new realm of the gods and a new, better earth is formed.

It really felt like this was the setup they were going for. Solas causes the death of Mythal, and this is his catalyst for creating the Veil, which ushers in a world without magic. This could be seen as equivalent to the long winter. Solas falls asleep, trapped in dreams. He wakes and sets in motion bringing about the apocalypse. It’s not a perfect one to one, but it’s there if you squint. We have a war against the gods in Veilguard. I was expecting a few remaining Titans to wake and join the fight. But we don’t get any of that. There is a final battle, but it does not end in the end of the world. Or a better world. It just ends, and everything is the same.

It seems our trickster god caused his apocalypse thousands of years before our story started, when he created the Veil. His role in this tale was over before ours began, and he really is just some relic from a long-past age. He has no role, no purpose in this story. He is here to be thwarted. He is no Loki at all.

If you can’t tell, I wanted the Veil to come down. Did I think the Veil coming down would be painless? Have no negative consequences? No. Of course not. But keeping it up has negative consequences too. And it made for an interesting story. Or at least it could have. But we never explore that. The game presents no counter argument to having the Veil stay up, which, again, begs the question: what was the point of introducing the concept of the Veil at all?

Did I think the Veil coming down was actually the best solution to help Thedas become a better place? I don’t know, and I never will, because the game never argues for it one way or another. It just tells you to want it in place and to stop asking questions. In real life, a catastrophic event is not the best way to solve any of the world’s problems. But this is the realm of fiction. We have gods and monsters, magic and myth. We have introduced the status quo of Thedas, recognized it needs to change, then our trickster god appears ready to fulfill his role in the narrative. 

Instead, it all comes to nothing.

I got to the end of Veilguard… and everything was more or less the same as it was at the start of Origins. Veilguard actually tries its hardest to pretend any previously mentioned problems don’t exist, so of course the Veil coming down has no merit. There are no problems to solve in this world, apparently. Solas is just stuck in the past and can’t get with the times. Silly Solas.

The Veil isn’t even a permanent solution. It wasn’t to begin with. It was some duct tape wrapped around a broken pipe, and we’ve just slapped an extra piece of tape on it. It’s still leaking. It is still unnatural, and will fall eventually one way or another. Large amounts of bloodshed weaken it, so I guess Thedas better achieve world peace real quick to avoid any battles. There were seven super-powered mages holding it together… now there is just one. Ironically, the Veil was going to fall after two more Blights anyway. The Wardens were doing Solas’s work for him! It would also have released the full force of the Blight at that time… which Solas was trying to avoid, I presume.

It feels like keeping the Veil up just pushed a big problem onto Thedas’ future generations. We’ll keep slapping bandaids on it until it all falls apart. Someone else can deal with the fallout, but we’ll be dead by then, so who cares.

Primarily, I wanted the Veil to come down from a storytelling perspective. The Veil was an interesting concept and I wanted the story to do something interesting with it. Conflict is what makes stories stories and the Veil coming down could create so much compelling and complex conflict. And the Fade is weird, and I like weird. Stories are also about change, and I wanted to see Thedas change. Yet, Veilguard is over, and barely anything has changed. Instead of magic coming back being a conflict for the next game, they went with Fantasy Illuminati. Oh.

The Veil turned out to be a nothing-burger, and no problems in this world are even close to being solved. Slavery is still rampant in Tevinter. The elven people are still oppressed everywhere. Mages have no more rights in the South than they did in Origins. Spirits are still trapped and being corrupted. The Calling still exists, though might be different somehow now? They don’t really get into that. The Chantry’s validity is still not allowed to be questioned. The Blight still exists in some form, but again it’s vague. Oh, and we learn the dwarves have been gravely wronged, and the Titans are still tranquil. At least if you redeem Solas and a romanced Lavellan joins him, they can work together on healing the Blight and helping the Titans. Oh, good. One problem is being acknowledged and some action will be taken. Offscreen. Hurray? Solas doesn’t have a really great track record of fixing problems, so Lavellan is definitely going to need to be there to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up.

For some reason, this game seemed terrified of letting us think about anything for more than two seconds. It shied away from complexity or nuance at every turn. The game is called The Veilguard—ironically, that word is never uttered in the game—but we are given no real motive for guarding the Veil. We’re unquestionably the hero. The villains are uncomplicatedly evil. Save the world… never wonder what you are doing or why.

I wanted the game to make me question if the Veil staying up or coming down was the right choice. I needed to be given a real counter argument. Convince me the alternative would actually be better or worse, because as I mentioned… things suck quite a bit in Thedas already for a lot of people right now. Let the Veil’s fate be a difficult choice to make. If the conflict cannot be what to do about the Veil, it should be am I doing the right thing about the Veil. If the heart of your game is so thin on motive, everything else falls apart around it.

I hoped they were setting up a complex, Thedas-sized existential conflict for this game in Trespasser, but no. I wanted something to happen, but nothing did. 

I want to feel challenged and changed by a story, not left feeling empty. I’m tired of superficial entertainment. I want to sink my teeth into a narrative that doesn’t paint the world in broad strokes of black and white, good and evil, heroes and villains.

Ultimately, I think my issue is why even introduce a concept like The Veil if you’re not going to do anything interesting with it. Or anything at all. What I thought was Chekov’s Veil turned out to just be a MacGuffin. And that’s disappointing.

[dollfacefantasy]

LOCK AND KEY ♡

pairing: yakuza!ryomen sukuna x fem!reader x yakuza!satoru gojo

summary: you finally have a chance at a big break in your career, a story that would take you from a measly crime reporter to a real journalist. the only catch is it's about the two most dangerous men in the city. when they find out about it, surely nothing will go wrong...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, non/dubcon, kidnapping (sort of), threesome, p in v, blowjobs, facefucking, biting, spitting, praise/degradation, mentions of violence + blood + murder + typical crime stuff

a/n: this is a belated birthday gift for my bestie @kaitkatme who i love so very much. i hope you like it <3 also thank you to @explorevenus @nexysworld and @fearcvlt for beta reading!! as always reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Your eyes fluttered open to stare at the ground below you. They found carpet you didn’t recognize. The spot directly beneath your face was soaked a darker shade by a pool of your blood. You could feel the source — a steady stream of crimson leaking from your nose. A dull ache throbbed through your skull as you tried to recall what led you to this point. Where were you? And why were you waking up here?

Lifting your head, you scanned the rest of your surroundings. Whoever was keeping you put you in a dark room doused in red lighting. Windows speckled the walls parallel to you while a large grand door took up the one opposite. Every surface appeared ominous, drenched in shadows. Obsidian carpet dusted the floor. You were thankful for that aspect since you’d been positioned on your knees. That foamy layer was the only thing sparing your joints from soreness right now.

Furniture was sparse throughout this place. A large sectional couch with thick seats sat in one corner while what looked to be a small kitchenette took up another. It seemed like a guest house; though, you didn’t see any makings of a bedroom. Perhaps it was located in the alcove you couldn’t see to your left.

Near the entrance stood a mirror. Through its reflective pane you were able to see your situation and the position of your limbs despite the stiffness in your neck.

You were bound at the wrists with restraints that tied to your ankles. They connected back to the wall behind you as well. That was how you managed to stay upright even while unconscious. Thankfully, all of your clothes had been kept on. Despite the bruising and blood on your face, you couldn’t see or feel any signs of other injuries.

Still, these factors didn’t answer any questions.

Your memories were returning to you, slowly and one at a time, but building a bigger picture nonetheless. This morning you’d woken up at the same time you always did. You went through the usual steps of your routine before walking to work. A man had catcalled you on your way. When you’d told him to fuck off, he called you a ‘stupid stuck-up bitch’ in return. You remembered fishing your phone out, jotting down a sentence in your notes app about doing a story on street harassment at some point in the future.

Earlier in the day, gray clouds had masked the sky as water drizzled down like half-hearted tears. When you arrived at the dreary office complex that constituted your workplace, you strolled right into the elevator and stood silently. Two men entered after you, crowding your smaller frame towards the back. They spoke as if you weren’t even there and carried on their conversation about potential solutions to the problem that was their wives not putting out enough since having babies number two and three.

Another note. A potential investigative report into marital rape.

When the doors in front of you had finally parted, you squeezed between the two sets of broad shoulders to freedom. You made your way through the array of desks ahead and found your own towards the back corner of the room. Right away, you slipped your phone into the drawer before booting up the computer. Those other stories could wait. The one you were working on today blew both out of the water.

You had clicked on the little folder in the top right corner of the screen. The one with no label. A slew of documents popped up across your screen. Faked financial forms, criminal records, suppressed victim statements, old news clippings. And your itinerary with one last interview lined up for tonight at 8 pm. 

The final nail in the coffins that you built for Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna.

It would be the last piece of evidence you needed on the two leaders of the worst crime families in this city. An exclusive account with a former member of the Gojo Clan who worked closely with Sukuna’s circle on their shared endeavors and was now turning on them both as he fled for his life? This would make your career.

No longer would this paper have you reporting on the lower rungs of the crime beat. With all the work you’d done for this, your editor would be forced to acknowledge your talent and dedication. You’d be given good stories that would help innocent people and make actual change. You wouldn’t have to interview burnt out cops or clueless onlookers about a car accident. With Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna’s collective downfall as a mark on your resume, you would do so much more.

Finally, you would be a real journalist.

The rest of the day had been pretty mundane if you remembered correctly. You’d spent most of your hours writing the beginning of your article and then prepping for the interview later.

The interview…

You’d been on your way to that when the memories stopped. The sky was already dark when you left the building. Golden streetlights glowed every twenty feet or so along your path. You remembered running your questions through your head as you walked, preparing for the possibility that you’d have to talk this guy back into sharing if he started getting cold feet.

Someone had called out to you though. It startled you. That you remembered. You didn’t see anyone else on the street, but that deep tone hailed you all the same. He hadn’t said your name. It’d just been something vague like lady or miss. Clearly not anyone who knew you.

But you looked in that direction all the same. Your eyes met a shadowy figure before pain radiated through your entire face.

Then everything went dark.

The most obvious conclusion to you now was that this had something to do with your scheduled interview. But you figured if that were the case, your body would already be floating through some river by now. Such was the fate of those who came too close to toppling the house of cards.

Something similar happened to the last guy who tried to expose the Yakuza syndicates. It was a few years ago, but you didn’t forget. How could you? He’d sat at the desk closest to your left. You could still remember his pudgy face and thick glasses.

Even worse, you could still remember the photos of him strung up in that slaughter house.

Well… at least you weren’t strung up yet. Bound and bruised maybe, but that didn’t mean certain death. After all, this was a pretty nice room to keep someone in for the sole purpose of execution.

The thoughts swirling through your head soon came to an end as you heard muffled voices outside the room. They started out barely noticeable but grew louder as seconds ticked on. You had just enough time to mentally brace yourself before that large door opened.

Two men entered the room. Your eyelids were still a bit heavy, but you didn’t need 20/20 vision to recognize them.

Standing next to each other, the pair looked like polar opposites. Both were muscular, but one was lean and the other bulky. Both wore designer t-shirts, but the lean one sported black while the bulky one chose white. Both of them looked at you like an apex predator, but the one in black with piercing blue eyes and the other in white with smoldering red.

Satoru Gojo & Ryomen Sukuna.

Your heart stopped beating in your chest. As if lifted by mere survival instinct, your eyes no longer gave you trouble. You could see in clear view as the two men approached you. An unnerving smile claimed Satoru’s face. The arrogance was there on Sukuna as well, just a much more muted version of it.

“Good. She’s awake now,” you heard Sukuna’s deep voice rumble. “She’s been passed out for a few hours.”

“I bet. Poor thing’s probably tired. Looks like your guys roughed her up a bit,” Satoru said, his lips turning into an exaggerated frown.

Your eyes flitted between the two of them. They didn’t have any weapons that you could see. Maybe you’d be spared for a little while longer.

“What… what’s going on?” you asked, struck by how raspy your own voice sounded.

The two of them looked at you, taking in your haggard appearance along with the will to survive you still possessed.

Satoru grinned impossibly wider.

“Awww, that’s how you know she’s a good little reporter. Already asking questions,” he teased.

His hand stretched out towards you as if he wanted to pat you on the head like you were a prized pup. Instead, you wrenched away like a wounded animal. You tried to escape his touch with such force that you nearly toppled over. He simply laughed at your close call, but another strong grip on your shoulder spared you from faceplanting.

Nausea rolled through you at the sudden touch. Never in your life had you wanted to crawl out of your own skin so badly. Sukuna’s palm was warm but rough. Something someone might mistake for human if they didn’t know the kind of man it belonged to. You looked up at him through your lashes. Unlike Satoru, he didn’t wear a teasing smirk or hold any amusement in his eyes.

“Let go of me,” you whimpered. You hated how weak your voice sounded. It came out scared and desperate, which to be fair, you were both. You just didn’t want it to be so obvious. But something about Sukuna stripped you bare, shattered your usual methods of concealment.

“Quiet,” he said. 

To your surprise, his fingers released your bicep, giving you a second of peace. But that was only so they could grab your jaw instead. The calloused tips dug into your cheeks. There was no pulling away now.

Satoru clicked his tongue. “You’re gonna learn real quick that you wanna be nice to me, sweetheart. I’m much more friendly than him.”

While held still, Satoru fished a white cloth from his pocket. He brought it to your face, wiping the tacky blood off your nose and lips before tossing it onto a nearby table.

Despite his minor kindness, you chose to ignore all that his statement implied. In your mind, both of them were equally horrible, and you didn’t want to get to know them well enough to discern which of the two was slightly less evil.

At work, you were forced to look at pictures of them constantly. Their cocky grins and intense stares filled the paper. You had to flip through page after page of stories about their scandalous escapades or legal dramas to get to your pieces at the back. 

You loathed it. 

Everyone in this city knew they were dirty. All of you knew that they made their money from the blood of others, that they stayed in power by shooting down any competition. But somehow everyone came to an agreement that you would all pretend they were just typical elite socialites. That their money came from their established bloodlines and that they kept it up through skillful investments.

You’d been so close to unraveling the lies. But it didn’t matter anymore. Not right now anyways. All you could do in this moment was survive. And to do that, you decided to focus on the more serious member of the duo. You figured he would give a better chance at getting out of here. Or at least a way of reaching a destination without so much drawn out anticipation.

“Where am I?” you asked.

Another brief moment of silence went by. Your question remained unanswered.

“Why are you keeping me here?” you tried.

“You really don’t know?” Sukuna said. The words sounded rough and scratchy, but his cadence was so smooth it sickened you. “You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you have some idea.”

You shook your head.

With your face held in place by Sukuna’s strong hand, Satoru reached out and actually managed to sweep his palm over your head. And not just once. He took advantage of your predicament and pet you several times, smiling at the grimace that overtook your features.

“Come on. Don’t insult us. We know you’re smarter than that,” he teased. “You’d have to be to find out all that you did.”

“How did you-” you started to ask. You’d been so careful. You secured every connection, terminated every unnecessary history of contact, kept all your information as private as possible. They couldn’t have traced you, so how did they know?

“It doesn’t matter how,” Satoru said.

“I was careful! I-”

“You were so careful, you didn’t think that it was possible we might have a few of your coworkers on our payrolls?” Sukuna interjected.

Fury, anguish, and humiliation rushed through you all at once because, no, you hadn’t considered that. You’d never entertained the idea that any of the people you worked with would sell you out. No part of you regarded any of them as paragons of journalism, but some optimistic shred of your psyche had refused to even contemplate that idea.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Satoru said, taking clear enjoyment from your faith in the world being shattered.”Your boss couldn’t have been more willing to give you up. He let us know all about your little story a few weeks ago.”

That reveal stung even worse. The past few weeks, all the nights you stayed late, all the hours you spent poring over documents and trying to find people willing to talk, all for nothing. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if that interview you’d been heading to had been set up under the supervision of one of them.

You tried to stifle any further dismay, not wanting to give them any more satisfaction. You should’ve known asking how was futile. You had to change your angle, focus on the relevant information. They had discovered your intentions to go after them. Now you just had to look for a way to survive.

Internally, you tried to contemplate your current options. Really only two came to mind. Comply or deny. Neither sounded appealing, but you decided on the one you believed would speed things along.

“So what? Why am I even here? You killed my story already. There’s nothing else I can do,” you said. You fought with your vocal chords to keep your words even, to appear some kind of tough.

“Do you think we really believe you’ll just let this go?” Sukuna asked in return.

“We know you won’t accept a pay off. You’re way too honest for that. And a few vague threats won’t do the trick either,” Satoru said, squatting down to be eye level with you. “But-”

“Why haven’t you just killed me then?” you asked, cutting Satoru off. Your eyes stayed angled at Sukuna.

For the first time, your defiance seemingly got under his skin. It cracked the cocky exterior he’d so carefully crafted with each word he spoke. That sparkle in his eyes dulled a little bit. 

Before you could really register it, his hand darted for your face again. He wormed his long fingers underneath the thickness of Sukuna’s palm, flexing off the other hand. With a small jerk, you were looking at him again.

“What’d I say about being nice?” he asked. The words weren’t overtly angry. Impatient, low and tense sounding, but not angry. Not yet.

You didn’t dignify the question with a verbal response. Without even breaking your harsh glare towards him, you spit. Your saliva flew across the small gap between your faces and struck his cheek. The clear glob landed right below his eye. You almost flinched at the contact, so certain a volatile reaction from him would follow. But it didn’t. Instead, that sparkle flickered again. Amusement glowed at the center of his irises once more.

With a quiet chuckle, he wiped your spit from his cheek. He then brought those same saliva-coated fingers to his mouth and popped them inside, cleaning them of your fluids. 

Your face twisted into a grimace. You couldn’t recall seeing something more repulsive in your entire life. That made him laugh.

“You’re disgusting,” you said.

“And you’re so cute,” he teased, pulling you back in his direction.

On his other side, Sukuna tilted your chin upwards. He didn’t interject to help you, didn’t bother pulling Satoru back. He just watched as the other man leaned forward, brushing his nose along the shell of your ear before nipping at the lobe.

Your eyes squeezed shut, and you tried to pull away. Satoru’s tongue slid from between his lips to trace a path down your neck. He kissed along the thumping artery in your neck, his lips pressing against your skin in time with the strong pulse.

“We have other uses for you,” Sukuna answered your original question, his grip on your neck still firm. “You’re much more valuable to us alive than dead.”

Uses. The word sent a chill down your spine.

“I’d never do anything to help the two of you,” you said.

He chuckled, deep and raspy, not at all concerned with your protest. “That’s not your decision, little one.”

A rush of involuntary heat flooded your body following the term of endearment. You refused to acknowledge it. Your body was just confused by the objectively pleasant touches. 

His hand slipped around to the back of your neck as he crouched to be level with you too. He gave the sensitive flesh there a squeeze. You had limited mobility with your limbs bound, but you still tried squirming away from Satoru’s wandering mouth.

Upon feeling you recoil, Sukuna’s hold tightened further, like an owner’s grasp on the scruff of their puppy’s neck.

“Just tell me what you want. You don’t have to torture me first,” you whimpered.

“Oh c’mon, princess. Does this really feel like torture?” Satoru cooed with a final kiss to your cheek. He pulled back to look into your eyes. Despite the softness in his voice, he still looked so fucking smug. You hated it.

“What do you want from me?” you tried again. 

While you could put up a good fight, you found your resistance breaking down pretty quickly under the constant touching. Half of you trembled with visceral hatred, pure revulsion at the feeling of their skin on your body. But the other half, the one you wouldn’t admit to if you could help it, felt something closer to frustration welling up because they were teasing. They weren’t giving you any real satisfaction.

Everything was too much, and you just wanted away from them. The contradictory mix of emotions was making your head pound and your chest ache. You closed your eyes tight again, hoping that maybe if you believed it enough, this would turn out to be some sick nightmare, and you’d wake up alone in your own bed.

“All we need from you is your cooperation. Be a good girl and listen,” Sukuna said. He gave the nape of your neck another squeeze, his nails digging into the delicate skin.

Your eyes opened again, connecting with his red ones. They gleamed so bright it looked as though actual rubies had been embedded into his sockets. 

At the same time, Satoru ducked in again to lay some more kisses upon your throat. His hands settled on your waist, smoothing up and down your soft curves. Every time they lowered, you could feel them pushing the line, testing how far they could delve beneath the hem of your shirt before you gave a severe reaction.

“You know this feels good,” Satoru murmured between kisses.

“No it doesn’t,” you said.

He chuckled at that, not letting up in the slightest. With a soft, disapproving click of his tongue, he tutted at you. “You’re lying. You can say you don’t like it all you want, but your body betrays you. Your skin is getting all warm, you’re squirming, and I bet… if I were to feel right here, you’d be all nice and wet for me,” he whispered as his right set of fingers slid between your legs, pressing on the seam of your slacks.

You jolted in surprise. A small squeal bursted from your lips at the sudden pressure there. You tried clenching your legs shut without losing balance, but it didn’t matter. His lithe digits continued sliding back and forth unobstructed.

Against your will, you whimpered. You couldn’t help it. He was stroking you just right, and as much as you hated it, it felt fucking good. His fingertips coasted over your pulsing clit and massaged your entrance where you already knew, true to his inference, you were starting to drip.

Drawing your attention back to him, Sukuna’s other hand came up to cup your jaw. His thumb landed on the seam of your lips before nudging its way in.

“Try to bite, and we’ll both lose a finger,” he warned.

You didn’t even entertain the possibility that he could be bluffing. If you caused the slightest bit of pain to his thumb, you were certain he’d inflict ten times as much onto you. So you did nothing. You felt the warm thickness of it on your tongue, felt the calloused pad against your soft muscle.

He pulled it back and forth a bit, in and out, testing you. In all honesty, you didn’t find yourself wanting to bite. Rather, your lips closed around his thumb with more purpose, actively accepting the digit instead of loosely allowing it.

“There you go,” he praised. “You already know what to do.”

Nausea bubbled up in the back of your throat again, but it was short lived, overpowered by the muted bliss Satoru was stroking into you down below. You let your eyes droop closed and even laved your tongue on his digit. 

It was slowly setting in that you weren’t going to get out of this. You figured the next best thing would probably be playing nice until another opportunity for escape arose.

Seconds later, you felt warm breath puffing against the side of your throat unoccupied by Satoru’s mouth. Little chills broke out over your skin. His other hand fell from the back of your neck, down your spine to the small of your back. He pulled you a little closer to the both of them. As close as he could while you were still restrained.

“You don’t have to admit you like it, little one. Just stop fighting. Let it happen.”

With that, he moved in on your neck too. He was rougher than Satoru. His teeth scraped over your sensitive flesh before his mouth latched onto a specific patch of skin. He bit it. Not just a little tantalizing nip. An actual bite. You gasped, tilting your head back and inadvertently giving them more access.

The bite on your neck wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but it was sure to leave a mark. He started with just that one before continuing with a series of more down towards your shoulder.

Despite this, Satoru remained relatively gentle. He worked in the opposite direction, heading up towards your lips. His eyes rose to be level with yours. That same cocky attitude glimmered within.

“Still think I’m disgusting?” he asked.

“Repulsive even,” you replied.

“Let’s see if I can get you to think of some other big words to describe me,” he said, ducking in to connect his mouth with yours.

At first, your body tensed. You stiffened up under his touch. But in a matter of moments, you slowly began to kiss back. Your lips tentatively mimicked his movements before you found yourself settling into a rhythm. He was still vile, but his kisses maybe weren’t so bad…

With Satoru occupying most of your attention, you didn’t notice Sukuna’s hands falling away or his mouth receding from your marked-up neck. Your eyes were shut while making out, so you also didn’t see him stand up. You didn’t catch him undoing his fly and dropping his pants either.

The first indication of his changed position you got was the fat leaky tip of his cock nudging your cheek.

Reluctantly, you disconnected from Satoru’s mouth, turning your head to eye the interruption. As it came into your view, you had to make a conscious effort not to let your brows raise to the ceiling. In all your life, you’d never seen a guy so big. Not only was his shaft long, but it was so fucking thick. Your mind wasn’t even concerned with who it belonged to right now. You could only watch in awe as his fist slid up and down, stroking it with a tight grip.

Satoru didn’t seem as phased as you. He grabbed the other man’s cock without hesitation, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.

You watched as he gave it a couple strokes of his own while rising to his feet. It was only a few before Sukuna pried his hand away with a strong grip on his wrist.

“Watch it,” he warned, similar to the tone he used with you.

“Cool it, big guy. You’re just as bad as her. Acting like you don’t like something that obviously feels good,” he teased.

You were sure if anyone else had said that, they wouldn’t get the chance to speak like that again. But Sukuna only scowled at him before reaching for your head. He pulled you in closer, looking down at your wide eyes as his dick slid across the side of your face. 

He rubbed it across one of your cheeks, then the other. His eyes took in every little reaction you had. The small crinkles of discomfort, the shuddery breaths of desire. He took his time, toying and teasing before he actually brought it before your lips, so close that a few beads of precum smeared on your bottom lip.

“Wha- what do you want me to do?” you said. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was that you didn’t think you could.

For the first time, he laughed. And it wasn’t like Satoru’s. Nothing about the sound was lighthearted or fun. It was a deep, sadistic rumble. A sound that was the final many heard before they met their end.

“What does it look like I want you to do? Open that pretty mouth and suck it,” he said. The hand on the back of your head moved you in closer, slipping the tip just past your lips. “Same rules as before: you try biting, and I’ll make the slaughterhouse seem like a fantasy.”

You hadn’t planned on resisting anyways, but after hearing that, all the fight seeped out of your body. At first, you didn’t put much effort in either. You just kind of sat there on your haunches, letting him do as he pleased.

He pushed his hips forward. His cock slid into your mouth inch by inch. It was only a second or two before you felt his head starting to nudge the back of your throat. The urge to gag pricked at you, but you tried your hardest to suppress it.

You squeezed your eyes shut while keeping your jaw loose and your fists clenched. He rocked in and out of the warm embrace your throat provided.

Even with your eyes closed, you still sensed Satoru’s presence. His spindly fingers caressed the top of your head and trailed along your temple. A touch probably intended to be soothing, but one that came across to you as teasing.

Following a few more shallow thrusts, you felt a tug at the back of your head. It was too jerky to be Satoru. Your eyes opened to find those same red eyes staring down at you again, a lecherous grin spread across Sukuna’s mouth.

“Trying to make me do all the work?” he said. “You’re still as a corpse down there. If I wanted to fuck one of those, I would’ve killed you.”

You tried mumbling out a sorry, but around the dick in your mouth, the word was incoherent. He didn’t need to give further direction. You began lightly bobbing your head. The movements started off tentative, as if you were still figuring out how to move at all, but slowly, you found your rhythm.

Your eyes closed again, but this time not as tight. Like his thumb before, his cock served as a distraction. You didn’t have to think right now. Didn’t have to worry about how you would get out of this. Didn’t have to ruminate over how you would day get revenge. All you had to do was work on taking his dick farther and farther down your throat with each push of your head.

“Atta girl…” he mumbled from above.

A slow exhale blew from your nostrils. His relaxed tone eased your nerves as well. The pace at which you sucked became more languid. Your head swooped closer to his pelvis more fluidly. Saliva oozed from your mouth, thoroughly coating his length and your chin.

In the midst of losing yourself to the task at hand, a whisper broke through your bubble.

“Gonna untie you now, princess, so we can both play with you.” Satoru’s breath fanned against your ear as he spoke. “You better behave. I won’t mind chasing you down, but I don’t think it’ll be as fun for you,” he said as his fingers came around back to free your arms from their bindings.

The ties fell loose and dropped to the floor. Instantly, you brought your wrists to your chests, massaging the skin that felt raw from the rough material of the restraints. You swiveled them to get the blood flowing normal again all while still flicking your tongue against the ridge of Sukuna’s tip.

You heard him choke out a groan before pulling you off, a ragged breath spilling from his lungs. At the same time, you sucked air in. You took in all that you could while your airway wasn’t obstructed.

“Fuck… that’s a good girl,” he praised. You again ignored the heat that flashed through your lower abdomen.

Your eyes opened again, your lids feeling a little weighted this time around. They both came into your view. Sukuna’s cock hung between you and him, shining with your saliva and dripping pearly precum from the head. On the other side, Satoru also had his dick out now. He stroked it in your direction. It was also impressive in size, long and thick enough to make your mouth water, but after seeing the monster between Sukuna’s thighs, you didn’t feel apprehensive.

“Cute… she already looks a little cockdrunk, and she’s only had you,” he said.

Less patient than his counterpart, Satoru yanked your head closer and sheathed himself entirely inside your mouth in one go. You actually gagged this time around, globs of your spit leaking from your mouth as your eyes watered. Your hands flew up to his thighs in an attempt to brace yourself, but he kept you as close as possible, your nose nestled against the swath of coarse white hair.

You could hear them both laugh a bit and say something back and forth to one another, though specifics evaded your ears. Sweet humiliation floods your veins at the sounds. Satoru keeps you in place, not moving while throbbing in your mouth.

Although Sukuna had explicitly said no biting, he never said anything about your nails. You dug them into the meat of Satoru’s thighs as hard as you could, until the pale skin turned pink with little crescent markings.

Instead of hissing in pain and ripping you off of him, Satoru moaned. His hips bucked forward, lodging his shaft so deep in your throat you actually thought you were at risk of choking and dying. Your vision faded and noises grew distant.

Just as you thought you were about to lose consciousness, he tugged you backwards. Not all the way off his dick, far enough that you were still drooling on the tip as oxygen came back to you. The clear fluid oozed from between your lips like a leaky faucet.

“There we go. That’s better,” he hummed before easing your mouth on him again.

You took some initiative, hoping that might spare you from another close call with blacking out. Your tongue slithered over his veins as you’d done for Sukuna. The other man in question who was reaching out to stroke your head.

“Don’t forget about me,” he teased, nudging his hips at you a bit.

Your hand came up without thinking. You wrapped your fingers around his thicker shaft and began stroking it at a rhythm a bit slower than the one your mouth moved at. It seemed to satisfy him. He didn’t say anything else, nor did he make a move to handle you.

Satoru did however.

Your mouth’s smooth pace only staved off his enthusiasm for so long. Before you knew it, each of those large hands came to rest on either side of your head. They held you in place, held you still so he could take over the motions.

He wasn’t too rough at first, gentle as someone could be while fucking your face. His thrusts remained shallow and even. You kept your focus on twisting your hand around Sukuna’s length. You couldn’t see what you were actually doing, but as large as he was, there wasn’t really a chance of losing him.

As the pleasure started to build for Satoru, he got a little faster, a tad overeager. He wasn’t ramming his dick down your throat, but he was starting to move faster. You could barely keep up with it. It was intoxicating in a way; left you feeling lightheaded and spun out of order.

We have other uses for you. Sukuna’s earlier statement echoed through your mind again. They definitely were using you. Satoru rutted against your mouth as though it was a toy crafted just for him, and Sukuna watched the skilled swivel of your fingers like it would be eternal.

You lost track of time down on your knees.

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been down there by the time Satoru was stepping back and letting his cock drop from between your lips. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like you were so eager to see what else they had in store for you.

Your eyes cracked open again. You hadn’t realized they’d even shut. The first thing in your line of sight was Satoru’s shaft, still hard and flushed and soaked with your saliva. From there, your pupils rose, gazing upon the two grins above.

Satoru reached out to pet your head, and this time you didn’t pull away in the slightest. Instead, your head leaned into the tender touch, nuzzled at the palm providing you a sliver of comfort.

“That’s it. You’re coming around,” he cooed. “We just have to break you in a little.”

His voice actually sounded kind of nice when it wasn’t polluted by that arrogant lilt. It hit your ears all smooth and soft, like a steady stream of champagne poured into a glass.

Almost a polar opposite, Sukuna spoke from beside him.

“Get her up. Move over there,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the couches.

“You got it,” Satoru said in a sing-song tone.

He gave your head one more caress before ducking around back to untie your ankles. The restraints came apart quickly under his nimble fingers. After they slipped off, you felt the same relief flood your feet that you’d felt earlier in your hands.

He scooped you up off the ground, cradling you in his arms like a bride. Despite being leaner than Sukuna, he didn’t lack any strength. He moved with the same fluidity that he’d entered the room with.

Under normal circumstances, you would have fought him every step of the way. Each step would have seen you kicking and squirming, trying to get him to drop you just so you could scramble to freedom. But in all honesty, you were in no condition to scramble. Being on your knees so long had left them feeling like jello. You doubted you could successfully make the short trip to the couch let alone bolt through an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar area.

Upon reaching the luxurious seats, Satoru sat down and put you in his lap, another move you would have protested if you didn’t feel so off balance right now. He held you to his chest, stroking down your neck and onto your shoulders. Sukuna sat one cushion over from the two of you.

Without saying anything, he took your legs into his lap. You just watched, unsure of his intentions. But all that came of the move was the soothing feeling of his thick fingers massaging your calves one at a time.

All you could do was blink. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it. His digits dug into your muscle with obvious strength, but it wasn’t at all painful. If anything it felt nice, like an aid to your circulation after being bound for hours on end. You just couldn’t comprehend why he would want to do it.

Breaking you from your confusion, Satoru whispered in your ear, “Let’s get you out of this dirty thing.”

At first, you didn’t know what he meant. However, upon looking down, you realized the front of your shirt had become stained with both blood and saliva. It was in rough shape, much worse condition than when you’d put it on this morning for work.

You didn’t really try to stop him from pulling it off your body. It would be pointless. Instead, you remained motionless as he slid each of your arms from the sleeves and guided it off your torso. The fabric’s absence sent a small shiver through you.

He brought the shirt up, using it as a makeshift cloth to cleanse your face of any remaining spit from your jaw.

“So pretty even when you’re all messy,” he praised quietly, dropping the garment to the floor beside the couch.

You assumed your bra would be the next thing to go, but Satoru’s fingers targeted the button on your slacks instead. He popped the silver out of place and slid the zipper down before shimmying you out of them. Again, with your current lack of strength in your legs, the process went easy, like removing clothes from a doll.

“You’re being so good right now. Keep it up, and you’re really gonna like it here,” Sukuna said while continuing his slow massage on your legs.

For a split second, that sentence triggered your journalistic instincts that you thought Satoru’s cock had knocked out of your head. You’re gonna like it here. So they were planning to keep you around. This wouldn’t be a one thing. They weren’t sending you out with a bang. It was as Satoru had said. They were breaking you in.

You didn’t really understand why. The trouble of keeping you prisoner didn’t seem worth the spoils they gained from it. At least in your mind.

Reading the confusion written all over your face, Sukuna’s palms slid up to your thighs. He tugged you down a little bit. You shifted from Satoru’s lap to the cool material of the couch, leaving only your head on his thigh.

The large hands spread your legs apart. Another shudder coursed through your body. You felt completely vulnerable in this position, like a small puppy caught between two wolves, your soft belly left exposed for their sharp claws and teeth.

Though nothing so ghastly happened. Sukuna’s fingertips continued to ghost over your inner thighs and hips, the touch feather-light.

“You have something to say?” he said.

But you shook your head.

“You do,” he continued. “Come on. I won’t bite. Not again anyway.”

“I just… so you’re really not gonna kill me?” you said, your voice wary.

“We already told you we weren’t,” Satoru chided from above, his hand stroking your cheek.

“But why? What’s the point? Why would you keep a loose end?” you asked. You knew you should probably shut up. Why argue against your own survival? But the innate curiosity inside of you craved an answer.

“You won’t be a loose end,” Sukuna said. “You’ll be under lock and key here. There won’t be any risk of you getting loose.”

His hands began to push your thighs up against your sides. Heat flooded your cheeks. The position left you totally exposed in the most compromising way. You wanted to ask why; although, you had a hunch, but you figured they may begin to grow annoyed with your questions.

He could tell you weren’t satisfied.

“You may not understand why, but killing you would be such a waste. You’re smart, calculating, and you’re not bad to look at,” he said. 

One of his thumbs began to graze the center of your panties, eliciting a gasp from you. Up and down, the pad of his digit traced from your slit up to your clit.

“You’ll be nice to have around, a good little stress reliever. And when you’ve proven yourself enough, you’ll be useful to the business as well,” he went on, completely matter-of-fact.

“I don’t want to-” you started to whimper. But he cut you off with a swat between your legs.

“What did I tell you? It’s not up to you. Would you rather end up like the last guy?”

You shook your head again.

“Good. So don’t worry about that for now. Keep being a good girl, and we’ll talk about it more later,” he said.

His fingers hooked around your panties, beginning to tug them down your legs. You squirmed in response; both the cool air hitting your most sensitive spot and the idea of him seeing all of you like this making you anxious. Your thighs tried to close on instinct, but he blocked that and kept you open to his eyes.

“Ah-ah. Behave,” he tutted.

He pulled your panties the rest of the way off without incident. His eyes trained on your now revealed pussy like it was prey.

“You really are pretty,” he said. “I’ll have to get a taste later.”

Later. A part of you was almost disappointed. But before you had time to register that disappointment, his fingers swiped through your folds.

You gasped softly. His digits caressed over the slick skin with an exploratory touch, gauging how wet you were.

At the same time, Satoru’s fingers slid beneath your bra straps. The smooth pads of his finger tips also ventured South as they coasted towards your breasts. He squeezed them under the material of the cups. His thumb and index finger toyed with your nipple for a second before undoing the clasp in front so it could end up pooled with your shirt on the floor.

“You’re gonna take both of us,” Sukuna said as his fingers glided across your entrance.

“At the same time?” you squeaked.

“Not today,” Satoru teased. He leaned forward, smiling upside down at you.

“We don’t wanna ruin you right away,” Sukuna added.

You wondered what exactly not ruining you would entail, but you didn’t have to wait long. Seconds later those thick fingers receded from your cunt and tapped your hip.

“On all fours. Facing me.”

You followed the order as though you were being timed, flipping over and swiveling around. Satoru rewarded your new position with a firm smack to your ass. You bit your lip in shame. Neither of them needed to hear the embarrassing sound that wanted out of your mouth.

The sound of ruffling clothes came from behind you. Probably Satoru removing his shirt. You didn’t make an effort to find out for certain. It was only background noise to the man in front of you.

He held your jaw in the palm of his hand. With a bit more pressure, you were sure he could crush the bones there. But he didn’t. He just kept you still, watching every little reaction on your face.

You felt Satoru line up behind you. It was obvious when he started to push in. Your brows furrowed. Your lips rounded out into a little ‘o.’ Even though his girth hadn’t made you gawk, it still stretched you a little as he worked himself all the way inside.

A small squeak forced itself from between your lips as he bottomed out and his silky tip bumped your cervix.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purred from in front of you. “Just keep holding still.”

The deep timbre of his voice had your insides fluttering. Your walls massaged Satoru’s shaft with every little contraction.

He groaned from behind you. “Fuck… she’s tight,” he sighed as he began to rock his hips.

You moaned, the motion of him unsheathing himself from you almost as nice as when he filled you up completely. He started off at a slow pace, back and forth in a nice steady rhythm, striking deep with every thrust. Your breaths grew shaky, and your fingers clutched the cushion beneath you.

It was only a matter of moments before he started to speed up. He wasn’t jackhammering yet, but he was on the road there. His pelvis slapped against your ass in quick succession, the sound beginning to echo in the dark room. You bit your lip while letting yourself adjust. If not for Sukuna’s palm below your chin, you had no doubt your head would be hanging by now.

He just continued looking down at you, scarlet eyes baring into your very soul, making absolutely sure you got no break.

“You’re taking it so well, letting him get you all warmed up for me,” he praised.

Your body shuddered. You could only imagine what Sukuna would feel like. Thicker than Satoru but just as long. Would he handle you like this? Would he go harder or slower? Would he cum quick or last until you were begging for mercy. You supposed it wasn’t really worth thinking about. You’d find out once Satoru finished, and given how often he was moaning back there, you had a hunch that would be sooner rather than later.

You kind of wished you could see his face — how that pretty pale skin flushed with desire, how those dark pupils dilated within the eerie blue irises. After how he’d humiliated you, you wanted to see the proof of his desperation as well. But the sounds would have to suffice. Them and his increasingly tight grasp on your hips.

His arms vibrated with the strength it took to hold on, to not cum too soon. He clearly wanted to savor you a bit more before relinquishing you to the other man’s hands. Your back arched like a cat’s as his strokes brought you more and more pleasure with every blow.

The change in your posture prompted him to swivel his hips, to find a new angle that could brush against something else. He found what he sought in no time at all. Your toes curled and your eyes rolled back as he slammed against that sweet spot within you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered before you could stop yourself.

An annoying, breathy chuckle came from behind. “Right there, huh? That’s where you like it?”

Reluctantly, you nodded. To your surprise, he didn’t say anything else to mock you. He just kept drilling into you like his life depended on it.

The both of you started to pant. Your arms wobbled underneath you, barely able to support yourself upright. You knew you were fast approaching your own release alongside Satoru.

Sukuna released your jaw, and that was when you let yourself collapse. Your arms buckled, and your cheek squished against the couch. Satoru held you in place there, pounding into you even harder than he had been before.

You came first. It crashed over you in a sudden wave. You choked out a whine, your body tensing up under him as the bliss rolled through you. And he just kept going.

He had better stamina than you’d expected. You whimpered and squirmed beneath him, hoping he’d hit his high soon and let you get some relief. But he continued to hammer into you without hesitation.

Only when he’d battered you firmly into the depths of overstimulation did he finally let himself go. He slammed all the way in and shot rope after rope of sticky, hot release into you. It was a good thing you were on the pill. Not that they had bothered to ask. But really, why would they? You doubted they would be concerned about any potential problem that arose from this. They were in the business of making things — people — go away.

With a sigh, Satoru eased himself out of you. He gave you a pat on the hip before sinking back into the couch and pushing his now damp white hair out of his face.

You didn’t get the same chance at relaxation.

Before you could even roll onto your side, Sukuna had his fingers around your wrist. With a tug, he guided you into his lap. He’d sat down since letting you go. He’d also taken his shirt off, allowing you a clear look at his sculpted figure. Your hazy eyes raked along the muscles covered in scars and tattoos.

He laughed quietly at your obvious interest. His large hands took each of your thighs and spread them over his lap so that you were straddling him. It was nice in a way, to be maneuvered so gently. To be positioned like a doll, not having to exert any effort yourself. In the past, you would’ve thought it’d be something you hate. But in this situation, it didn’t feel so bad.

His hand splayed across your chest next. It kept you upright and looking at him.

“You look so pretty. Like you can barely remember your own name,” he mocked, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

The hand that wasn’t propped on your chest slipped down between your legs to grab his cock. He angled it upwards, dragging the head over your folds a few times, nudging it against your skin without actually entering. You squirmed a little at the feeling, slightly in discomfort but mostly in wanting what was being offered.

“Calm down. You’re gonna get used to this in no time,” he said. Threat or promise, you couldn’t really tell.

You were completely soaked between your thighs. The combination of your own arousal mixed with Satoru’s cum leaking out of you left a mess, but it had you slick enough that he slipped inside without issue.

Your eyes widened. It wasn’t just his size or the stretch but also the overstimulation that had your nails digging into his bicep. Strangled whines erupted from you as a weird, sweet sting settled in your center. He hushed you, the hand from your waist running up and down your back while he pushed his hips up.

“Shhh shh shhh, you’re a good girl, remember? You’ll get used to it,” he said, a sinister smirk across his face.

You squeezed your eyes shut, nearly doubling over from that tone alone. The physical sensation truly wasn’t that bad. Not as bad as you expected anyways. With a few deep breaths, you found yourself more comfortable. He was doing all of the work. It was just that fact that this was happening at all that knocked the wind out of you.

He continued to slide you all the way down on his dick. Once you were settled against his lap, ass flush against his thighs, he let you sit there for a minute. You stayed motionless on top of him, just taking in the raw feeling of him tucked inside you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked. You looked up at him, at that fucking smile. “Think you can ride it for me?” he said.

You knew he was mocking, and you wanted to say yes, just out of spite. You wanted to push yourself up and bounce on his dick till he was moaning for you just like Satoru had been. But the fact that you could barely find the energy to get any response out told you that wasn’t a realistic possibility. So you shook your head no.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. He tugged you close to him. Your upper body landed against his chest with a small thud. “But that’s ok. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of it.”

He grabbed your hips and began lifting them up and down on himself with ease. His hips also rocked up into you from below. And you just let it happen like he told you to.

Your eyes drooped close and your grip on his arm became weaker. He was much quieter than Satoru, barely making any noise at all compared to the other man’s near-constant moaning and groaning. But you were quieter this time around too. Maybe it was the lingering effect of Satoru. Maybe your adrenaline was wearing off. But despite the pleasure swirling in your lower half, you felt almost floaty. Your brain felt like it had melted down into a small puddle that was slowly leaking from your ears.

“You’re gonna be a perfect fit around here,” he rasped. The words almost sounded divine, whispered into your ear from the heavens. “You might act up a little at first, but I know how to handle a brat. And you’re already showing how good you can be.”

It got no response out of you. You were in no shape to argue or disagree.

That didn’t matter to him though. He slammed up into you harder, getting a sharp gasp from you.

“I’m gonna have fun getting you to crack,” he said.

At that, you whimpered. If this was how it felt, there was a good chance you’d have fun too.

He kept thrusting up into you, pumping his own cock into your slick hole where Satoru had already spilled himself. You couldn’t keep track of how long it took for him to reach the peak too. Everything was in a fog right now. You heard yourself moaning, felt him fucking into you, but everything was distant. It was possible you came again, but overstimulation gave you a constant high so you couldn’t really tell.

But before you knew it, his breaths became heavier. His chest puffed against you at a quicker rate. His balls smacked against your ass with more force. You turned your face against his chest. You knew the end was near but every sense you had was so overwhelmed you could barely stand it.

He came with a quiet groan. The most noise he’d made the entire time. He fucked the warm fluid into you in the same way Satoru had. Maybe they’d shared someone before.

For a few minutes after finishing, he just sat there basking in the afterglow with you melted on top of him.

But then you felt a cool hand on your back. One that didn’t belong to Sukuna. Your eyes opened to find Satoru next to the both of you.

“Hey, princess. You ready for a nap?” he teased.

You whined and went to shove his face away even though, in truth, the answer was undoubtedly yes.

He just laughed, catching your hand and pulling your arm around his shoulder. Sukuna squeezed your hip before lifting you off of him completely and allowing Satoru to scoop you up like he had before.

“You did good for the first time. Let Satoru help you, and get some rest,” he said. He stood up, reaching for his clothes scattered around the floor.

You didn’t get the chance to say anything before Satoru was walking away with you in his arms. Lazily looking around, you saw he brought you into a small bedroom, just off the alcove next to where you’d been tied up.

He placed you on the bed gently and walked away to grab something. You watched as he grabbed a small towel before returning to you. With gentle hands, he cleaned up the mess between your legs. 

He confused you. Well really, they both did. While he was seemingly the more mean of the two, the one who’d tease and mock, the one who’d pound you into the couch without care for how it affected you, he was also the one coddling you, caring for you as though you were made of glass.

And Sukuna. Apparently he was the rough one, the least tolerant of bullshit, the one who’d threaten you about biting but mark up your neck like he was a wild animal, he’d been relatively gentle while you were on top of him.

It left you with a lot of questions, but you had the mental capacity for none of them right now.

“See, it’s not so bad here,” Satoru said while tending to you. “I’m sure you won’t love it right away, but you really will be a good fit soon enough.”

You stayed quiet at that. Whatever job they had planned for you after having their fun, you didn’t want to know. You couldn’t imagine doing something so polar opposite of everything you stood for. But would you give up your survival if that was the cost of refusing? You weren’t sure.

Soon enough, Satoru had wiped you thoroughly enough. He discarded the towel and smiled down at you for a second. His fingers came out and ran just along the bruise on your eye.

“I’ll bring you some ice for that. Just try to get some sleep for now. When you wake up, I’ll have them bring you some dinner. And we’ll be back to check on you later,” he said with a grin.

You didn’t bother asking who “they” were or where he and Sukuna were going or what they would do next. All would be pointless questions, and all you wanted to do now was sleep. You could think of a different angle for this when you woke up. But for now, you let your eyes close as the main door to the place shut. Vaguely, you heard the lock click into place.

[monimccoythings]

A Little Break

Look, out of all the ways I expected my week to go, falling in love with the cocept of a sentient ball of Play-Doh that was made of three different children who were experimented on, that carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and has severe trauma and inferiority complex wasn't on my list. Doey was a great and tragic character, It's been very long since I've last seen some good and complex character. He deserved way better and we were robbed. Out of all the chapters to have different endings depending on your choices, this was the one that should have had that option. I really hope they bring him back if not for Chapter five, for the movie.

I just really had to write something for him, I couldn't get it out of my head. Reader is as gender neutral and as poc friendly as possible, can be interpreted as either platonic or romantic, whatever you wish.

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It had all happened so fast. One moment Doey was there, right in front of you, being his cheery and goofy self, and the other he was groaning in pain as the freezing agents completely reduced his body to a giant block of ice.

Panic flowed through your mind. What had just happened!!??? Did he die??? What were going to tell to the inhabitants of Safe Haven?? Dread filled you at the thought of the Safe Heaven's protector having perished. Your brain went overdrive, brainstorming thousands of ideas to get yourselves out of this predictment.

And then you saw it. Old, heavy and metallic, a valve. Not thinking twice, you aimed your grabpack towards it.

The plastic hand attached itself to the valve with surprising ease, given that by that point it was a bit worse for the wear.

With great effort, the rusty valve, turned with a loud creak that resonated among the empty halls of that prison/laboratory.

"Hurts! HURTS HURTS HURTS!" The giant doughman lamented, panting heavily while doubling over. Your heart ached with sympathy. Slowly, you approached him as if the half a ton super strong and shapeshifting monster was some sort of scared little animal.

"Hey, are you okay?" You asked tentatively

"Yeah, yeah, just a nasty spook." It didn't sound very convincing, that freezing agent must had really done a number on him.

"Here, let's sit down for a bit, okay?." You encouraged, grabbing his massive hand with both of yours, ignoring his insistent reassurances that he was fine.

"I SAD I'M FINE." His free hand slammed against the brick wall, leaving a huge crater in the shape of his handprint, a harsh reminder that this creature in front of you wasn't really human, not anymore, and could easily tear you limb from limb with ease if he desired so. You thought you caught a glimpse of sharp red fangs in his usually empty mouth.

It felt like walking on eggshells, you had to measure very carefully your next words, as the usually goofy and kindhearted Doey seemed to be at his wits' end. Yet you couldn't just stand there and move to the next room as if nothing had happened and leave him to deal with his pain alone.

"No, you're not." You tried to keep yourself calm and composed, despite the persistent feeling of terror at his sudden outburst. "You're hurting, you can't keep going on like this. You need to rest."

"I. Can't. They are all depending on me, and time is not on our side. We need to end this now." His words were bitter, sharp, but they didn't have the dangerous edge they had before. That was good, you supposed.

"Please, I know that you carry a heavy burden on your shoulders, but I'd feel more at ease if we took a rest. Just a couple of minutes. Please." You knew it was wrong to take advantage of his Atlas complex and pathological need to take care of those at his charge to manipulate him into doing your bidding, but he needed to rest, no, he deserved to rest, and more so after that very painful experience.

He scrunched his eyes, having some sort of internal fight, before he finally relented with a long suffering sigh.

"Okay, but just a couple of minutes, nothing more."

Dragging his feet like a petulant child, he dropped to the floor, arms crossed, making the floor tremble slightly. You quietly followed and sat close to him, but still keeping some distance, just in case he decided to explode again. Even then, you could feel the coldness emanating from his skin as a result of the ice that had comoletely engulfed him merely seconds ago.

"You're cold." You stated.

"It'll pass." He tried to act nonchalantly, to rest importance to his own suffering, but the wince he let out while changed positions betrayed him.

You quickly disposed of your grabpack, possibly the only protection you had in this place, and quickly made work of your jacket and outershirt.

"Wha- what are you doing-"

"Shhh" You shushed him, drapping your pieces of clothing over his large frame, they looked comically tiny on him, like a baby blanket on a full grown adult. Still, you hoped they'd do the trick. "You said we don't have time to waste, maybe this will help you warm up faster."

He stood silent for a moment, his oval beady eyes made it impossible for you to know what crossed his mind.

"Oh... thank you..." You could tell he wasn't used to this, not being the caregiver. Having been used for so long to put everybody else's needs over his own it now felt awkward to suddenly be offered some comfort. Doey wasn't sure how to properly react to that aside from the obvious words of appreciation.

The two of you just sat in silence for the rest of your 'pause', afraid that if any of you spoke it would break that peaceful moment and bring you back into the harsh reality.

Doey had to reluctantly agree with Poppy on something.

You were truly special.

[hollaforlyla]

movie sonic x reader relationship hcs!!

" MOVIE!SONIC X GN!READER DATING HEADCANONS "

omgomgomgim MY SHALAAAA😭🫶🏻🫶🏻 movie sonic will forever have my heart, no crush will ever take him from me/jk🌝

Playful and Affectionate – Sonic is a hyperactive little ball of energy, so expect lots of spontaneous hugs, playful nudges, and affectionate teasing. He loves making you laugh and will dramatically pretend to be wounded if you poke fun at him.

Always Moving, Always Dragging You Along – Sonic loves running, and while he won’t force you to go at his speed, he constantly invites you on adventures. If you’re not fast enough, he might just scoop you up and carry you around.

Quality Time = Chill Time – When he’s not zipping around, Sonic is actually a big fan of just hanging out. Movie nights, playing video games, or cloud-watching? He’s all for it—bonus points if you let him use your lap as a pillow.

Acts Tough but is a Huge Softie – Sonic may try to act cool, but the second you do something sweet for him—like making him his favorite chili dogs or calling him cute—he melts. He’ll get all flustered and start talking way too fast.

Jealousy? Him? Noooo... (Okay, Maybe a Little) – Sonic isn’t the type to get super jealous, but if someone flirts with you, he’ll suddenly appear at your side with an arm around your shoulder, making it very clear you’re his. He’ll act nonchalant, but his ears twitch when he’s trying not to pout.

Protective in the Goofiest Way – He’s got a hero complex, so of course, he wants to keep you safe. If you’re in danger? He’s serious. But if you just trip over something? He’ll dramatically dive to “save” you like it’s life or death.

Loves to Show Off – He lives for impressing you. Expect flashy stunts, confident grins, and a “Did you see that?!” after every cool trick he pulls off.

Cuddles = Charged Battery – While he’s constantly on the move, he loves crashing with you when he needs to recharge. He’s a total cuddlebug when sleepy, wrapping himself around you like a big, warm blanket.

Will Not Stop Teasing You – Sonic is that boyfriend. If you blush easily, he’s going to find every excuse to fluster you. But the second you flip it on him? He short-circuits.

Accidental Love Confessions – He blurts things out without thinking, so expect an Oh, man, I love you! in the middle of an exciting moment—only for him to immediately freeze up like wait, did I just say that out loud?

Thinks You’re the Coolest Ever – No matter what you do, Sonic hypes you up like you’re the most awesome person in the world. You could be doing something totally mundane, and he’d still be cheering you on like you’re saving the universe.

[anneapocalypse]

On Wuk Lamat, and Female Characters in FFXIV

The Thing with Wuk Lamat is you can tell me you think she had too much screentime; you can give me numbers on how many lines she had or how many scenes she's in relative to other characters or other expacs; you can prove to me "objectively" that she gets more focus than other main NPCs; you're simply not going to convince me that this is something I should be unhappy about. And not just because it's silly to think you can use numbers to prove a story is good or bad and make someone else go, "Wow, you're right, let me just throw away all the joy I experienced with this story and revise my opinion because you've scientifically proven to me that I'm wrong."

Because while I love Final Fantasy XIV and I have greatly enjoyed its story in so many ways, fundamentally one of my biggest beefs with this game has been how much female characters have been denied complex character arcs and growth and agency and interiority.

Minfilia gets treated as a sacrificial vessel who lives for everyone but herself and doesn't even get to have feelings about her own death because that entire arc is focused on a male character's angst about it instead. The game tells us in the Heavensward patches that Krile sees Minfilia as her best friend and then just forgets about that later and never follows up on what that loss must have meant to her. Ysayle is basically right about most of what she's fighting for but harboring a bit of self-delusion is apparently such a terrible sin that she has to pay for it with her life, while her male foil is deemed so worthy of salvation that there's a whole plot point about how important it is that we risk our lives and others' lives to save him. Y'shtola is a major character who's been around since the beginning, and the game keeps dropping maddeningly interesting things about her (apprenticed to a cranky old witch in a cave! saved her own life and the lives of her friends with an illegal and dangerous spell and it worked! reserved and undemonstrative yet regularly through her actions reveals herself to be deeply caring! disabled!) and then shows complete disinterest in following up on any of those things with the kind of depth and care shown to male characters with complex arcs like Urianger.

In general there is also a repeated thread of female characters being portrayed as weak or overly emotional: Minfilia is weak because she doesn't fight and needs to be eaten by a god in order to gain "a strength long sought." Krile is portrayed as not being able to pull her weight with the Scions (despite the fact that she actively keeps five of them from dying in Shadowbringers) and the only thing they could think of for her to do in Endwalker was be yet another vessel for Hydaelyn (hmm, that sounds familiar) and it's not until Dawntrail that she gets much actual character development in the main story and even that has to come alongside "Look, she can fight now so that means she's useful." (And I love Picto!Krile, I'm just saying, there's a pattern.) Alisaie, despite having very good reasons for needing to find her own path apart from her brother, is portrayed as having to prove herself when she returns, that she's "not the girl she once was," and "will not be a burden" (while Alphinaud is repeatedly given the benefit of the doubt and reassurance and affirmation from other characters even after he takes on responsibilities he isn't ready for and fucks up big time).

And if you follow me you know I adore Urianger, and I love Alphinaud and Thancred and Estinien too, so please don't misunderstand what I'm saying here! I'm not knocking those characters, or saying we shouldn't also love them. I just use them as a comparison to demonstrate how the female characters have been neglected.

Lyse has some of the stronger character development among the female Scions, and while she's still kind of portrayed as being too emotional and hotheaded in early Stormblood, I think it's actually explored in more depth in a way that I like; Lyse has good reasons for wanting to fight for her nation's freedom, but having been away from Ala Mhigo for several years now, she needs to understand the stakes for the people who've been there fighting for years, what they've lost and still have to lose. She grows as a person and rises to the challenge of leadership, and I'm even okay with the fact that she leaves the Scions afterward because it feels right for her to stay in Ala Mhigo, and at least she doesn't die.

And by all accounts she was, like Wuk Lamat, widely hated when her expansion came out.

Unironically I think the other female Scion with the strongest character arc is Tataru. She tries to take up a combat job, finds that it's not for her, and decides to focus on where her strengths are instead. In doing so, she both holds the Scions together as an organization in the absence of a leader by capably managing their finances, and also comes into her own as a businesswoman and makes international connections that benefit both the Scions and her personally. In contrast to Minfilia, she's not portrayed as weak because she doesn't fight, and is actually allowed to be an important character who's good for more than being sacrificed. Tataru is still distinctly in a supporting role for the player character, however, and her character arc happens as a side story that takes up a relatively small amount of screentime over several expansions, which I think is probably why she doesn't evoke such a negative reaction.

But there is a pattern of the game's writing showing disinterest in the interior lives of female characters generally, and in making their growth the focus of a story.

So yeah, I'm going to be happy about Wuk Lamat! I'm going to enjoy and celebrate every moment of her character arc, of her personal growth, of watching her put the lessons she's learned into action. I'm going to love and treasure every moment when she gets to be silly, embarrassing, emotional, scared, grieving, confused, upset, seasick, impulsive, and still deemed worthy of growing into a hero and a leader. I will love her with all of my soul and you simply will not convince me that it wasn't worth the screentime after such a profound imbalance for basically the entirety of the game. We've never had a major female character get such a strong arc with this much love and attention put into it and that means more to me than I can truly say. The backlash to it is disheartening, as this kind of thing always is, but I'm not going to let it ruin the wonderful experience I had playing it and how much joy it continues to bring me.

And for those of you who don't want any of that for a female character, thank goodness you have Heavensward and Shadowbringers and Endwalker and no one can take those away from you.

(And if you follow me you know that I love Shadowbringers and Endwalker and have very fond memories of Heavensward despite some issues with it, so not only can I not take that from you, I am not trying to!)

Some of us have been real hungry for a character like this with an arc like this, so, I think, y'know, maybe we can have that. As a treat.

[he-needs-enrichment]

Expedition 33 post game thoughts

since none of my friends have played the game except for one person currently playing, i need to write down some thoughts if only so i can come back to this later (if anyone finds them interesting that's a bonus). They're gonna be very disjointed.

Also if you haven't finished the game do yourself a favor and don't read this until you did.

Spending the prologue getting to know everyone and setting up the expedition, just for them to instantly die in the first seconds of Act 1 set the tone for the game amazingly. I feel like a huge part of this games message is how death simply happens, and there is no grand plan or justice about it. All those people you just know have had complex lives and relationships gone in an instant.

This made the end of act 1 really click for me, no matter how devastated and sad i was. It made so much sense to me, life isn't fair and death isn't either.

With the power of hindsight, the symbolism behind Verso coming in as a replacement for Gustave is heartbreaking. A sad broken man, expected to fill the shoes of a beloved, kind man he never knew and never was, constantly compared to him by us, the players the same way he is thought of as a bad replacement by of painter!verso by characters in the narrative. The parallels between Gustave and painter!verso in general break my heart.

The way Verso longs for connection, yet works to kill everyone and everything he's cared about so he can finally die. Every time he spends time with the members of expedition 33, he knows he just makes everything more painful for himself, yet he can't help himself, he wants them to feel better, he literally cuts himself in half just to make them smile.

At the same time it's heartbreaking to see how he keeps breaking everyone's trust, no matter how many times they forgive him and how much he tries. I see a metaphor for how trying to avoid conflict by always being agreeable and failing to communicate your desires and needs always ends to hurting both yourself and everyone around you.

Good god did the older brother who loves their youngest sibling more than the world hit me hard. I never see myself as a heroic person, in fact i don't think i could be brave in most situations, but i truly believe I'd let the world end before giving them up.

Speaking of family, painter!renoire is the first fictional depiction of a father doing things "for the family" at any cost that wasn't deeply triggering and uncomfortable for me. He truly loved everyone, and i think he was right in what he did.

The concept of the gommage and the duality of the known, predictable death and the unpredictable sudden death. Both have their own horrors, and neither make it easier. I try to not think much about it, but just knowing that golden retrievers usually don't live much past 10-12 years fills me with dread and makes me cry sometimes, and i don't think I'll ever be prepared (and now I'm crying). At the same time it reminds me that at any point in time, anyone could just stop existing.

There's so much to say about escaping into worlds of Fantasy. Be it books, artistic endeavors or playing video games, clair obscur is a stark reminder of the danger of losing your real time and connections when trying to get away from the world. At the same time, it shows the potential for beauty - kid verso and clea made this vibrant and amazing universe that gave them so much, its only when this universe became escapism to their grieving mother when things went bad.

Im not sure I'll be able to/want to ever replay the game, after seeing the ending. We as players are as much painters as the in universe equivalents. It doesn't feel right to put them all though suffering because we can't let things go.

I got much more to say, but I'll end on a note about the endings.

Sciel and Lune's reactions in Versos ending broke my heart. There's no happy ending in any case. But i still believe it's the right ending, because there's hope for a better tomorrow. Verso is right. Maelle!Alicia could repaint things later, as a more mature and grown person. everyone in the canvas at this point is a repainted by her already. But she needs to live, to grow as a person, and verso deserves to rest. She can't let him go on her own, repeating what her mother did, putting him and the world though the same grief.

The Maelle ending feels straight out of a horror movie. Others have pointed it out before, but the vibrant colorful world is replaced by black and white. The people lost their individuality, and how couldn't they? Maelle didn't know them. Even the people she knew can't be like they were before, because maelle in this version can not accept inperfections. She became a puppeteer, and Verso, who has been trying to get just a tiny bit of freedom his entire life, is just a performer on a stage for her now. He knows it. He hates it. And there is nothing he can do about him. What is horrifying to me and illustrates this disregard for him as a person as opposed to a role for him to fill as her happy brother is that he seems to not have his scar anymore - the one thing he said he kept to show his individuality, his ability to choose for himself.

idk if anyone will read this but if you did, thanks, comments are welcome.

[raineandsky]

#142

“Oh, what the hell is this?” the villain snaps, although their usual violent tone is dulled by the fact there’s power-dulling handcuffs on their wrists. “Bring your kid to work day?”

“Funny you should say that.” The hero pulls out a chair for his daughter to sit down. “It is.”

The villain huffs in disbelief as the hero takes his own seat. “No wonder villains live longer than you heroes,” they comment shortly.

“She wants to see what I do, so she gets to come along for the ride.” The hero flips open a file, scanning his eyes over the contents. City destruction, robbery, hero attacks. The usual crimes. “You going to tell us what warranted your latest assault on this city?”

The villain shrugs, shooting a glance at the hero’s daughter, who’s currently settling in with her face resting against her palm, her gaze half-locked onto the villain. "Nothing too outta the ordinary. Wanted to fuck shit up, make a point.” Another glance. “Sorry, am I allowed to swear in front of the golden child?”

The hero opens his mouth—absolutely not, you animal—but his daughter beats him to it. “Wouldn’t say that.”

The hero and the villain both give her stares of horror and delight. “Ooh,” the villain says with a smirk, “daddy plays favourites?”

“You’re here to listen, honey,” the hero jumps in curtly when she starts to nod. “You don’t need to respond to anything this criminal says.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” the villain continues, their gaze locked dangerously onto the girl, “I get it. I was bottom of the barrel in my parents’ eyes too. Why do you think I’m like I am?”

A small smile breaks on her face, and the hero can see the opportunity the villain is clearly trying for here. “She’s here to learn about the agency, asshole,” he snaps. “She’s not taking anything from you, so back off.”

“Oh, sorry.” The villain holds their hands up with a laugh. “I thought we weren’t swearing in front of the young, impressionable mind.”

The hero heaves a deep sigh. Just ten minutes. Ten minutes of interrogation and he can send this trash back to their cell. He glances back down at the file on the table. Keep it in check. “[Supervillain] sent you, I presume?”

“I have all the time in the world to not answer your questions, [Hero]. You’ll never know. Maybe I’m a lone wolf.”

“There’s been sightings reported of you conversing with her and pulling off coordinated hits. Multiple times.”

When the hero glances up from the file in front of him, he can tell he’s caught them. Their face is blank, mildly pissed off at best, the cogs clearly turning behind their eyes. “Would you like to present me with all your evidence first, officer, or are you just interested in seeing how far I can get on bullshit?”

“I’d mostly like you to tell me outright what you think you’re playing at, but I doubt I’ll ever get that lucky.”

“I’d like to hear some bullshit,” the hero’s daughter adds innocently.

The villain barks a harsh laugh as the hero shoots her a glance. “Don’t say things like that, sweetheart.”

“Incredible,” the villain manages from behind another laugh. “You are so much more fun than your dad.”

She leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. “What’s it like being a villain?”

The villain puffs with pride, shooting her a grin. “Oh, so much fun,” they say brightly. “You don’t go by rules. You live by your own morals, and when weird little snobs with a superiority complex—” they nod their head to the hero “—try to stop you, your friends come together to help you out. We live and die together. It’s a good place to be.”

“Sounds like a great time,” the hero’s daughter says with a wistful sigh. “More fun than all the seriousness going on here.”

“Hey,” the hero snaps, and she only shrugs.

“You could be one of us,” the villain continues, their voice much too inviting, his daughter much too invested. “You have the attitude. You could live how you want, on your terms. No one tells you what to do.”

“[Villain],” the hero cuts in, his voice dangerous, but the villain only has their eyes on his girl.

“Doesn’t that sound freeing?”

She nods, a smile light on her face. “How do I get in?”

The hero stands, pulling his daughter up with him. “Absolutely not.”

“There’s a gate in the back of the old school, downtown,” the villain says quickly as the hero drags her to the door. “Tell them I sent you. [Supervillain] will meet you personally. She’ll just a—”

The door slams shut and the hero pulls his daughter down the corridor slightly. He knows these rooms aren’t totally soundproof. “What on earth are you doing?” he snaps coldly. “You’re going to get yourself killed acting like that. When we go back in there, you stop talking, you hear me?”

“That school they were talking about was the school I got deferred to last year,” she says bluntly. “I know it well.”

“That’s not my point, you’re inviting—”

“[Villain] can control electricity, [Supervillain] controls water,” she continues over him, confident, almost blazé. “I go in with [Villain], I could get the two of them in the same room and electrocute the entire place. Villainy's little anchor would be gone.”

The hero blinks at her dumbly. “How do you know that?”

“It’s on Google, dad. All the villains have their own wiki pages.” Her tone is disinterested, as if this is obvious and boring to explain. “I could burn them from the inside. If they think a hero’s kid wants to turn to villainy, they’ll be so blinded by their success in getting me that they won’t see that I was never on their side.”

He has no response to that. He’d just expected to come out here and talk some sense, and possibly some morals, into her. “A fake turncloak,” she adds unhelpfully.

“I don’t know what that is,” is all he can think to say.

His daughter tuts, glancing past him and down the corridor. “Can we go back in now?” she asks. “I haven’t got them totally on my side yet, I can tell. Release them tonight and I’ll go with them. I’ll be back by the weekend with their flames in my wake.”

“Okay, you’re not a poet,” the hero says tiredly, “and you’re not putting yourself in danger like that on my watch. We have [Villain] right here—we’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?”

“Like— Like, you know—” The hero grapples for an inkling of a plan. Frankly his daughter’s is taking up too much brain space. “I don’t know yet, honey, but—”

“Cool.” She slips past him and back to the interrogation room. “Then let’s prank this idiot.”

She doesn’t wait for him before she swings the door open. “Yeah, apparently, evil is, like, bad,” she says with a typical teen sigh, and the hero can see the wink she shoots the villain before the door closes behind her.

He can’t believe he’s going along with this. He’ll need to tell the superhero before he gets his daughter involved in anything. He can’t deny that it could work, though.

He sighs, his hand on the door handle and listening to the whispers thrown between his daughter and the villain inside.

Fine. Prank this idiot they will.

[moonieandi]

corners and walls | silco x f!reader  

Summary: the grief of loss shakes apart the friends of four, leaving silco and her to pick up the pieces of the complex affliction between them

warnings (TW): slight spoilers for arcane season ii//act ii, swearing, mentions of death, alcohol mentioned, general trauma, violence (implied)

tags: established relationship, honestly for once NOT dumbasses, angst… comfort?, affection

notes: i think this is a oneshot. Im not completely sure (im kinda maybe sure) that this is a oneshot… im allowed to write about my interests! (pt 11 of snapshots in my drafts rn its a complicated ch im wrestling w myself about posting)--- but im in arcane brainrot…. I love dissecting it and unfortunately for all of u i LOVE silco……… hes a questionable character…… but the way the action of season ii is going i need something familiar in my life while looking at (doomed) victor/jayce (heavy sighs) — if u don’t wanna read i understand this is a moonie want (and need) — love youuuuuu <3 

word count: 2.6k

| masterlist | 

There were corners of her he did not know. 

Folds of her linens and clothes he moved to uncover in the past months. She was quiet, silent in the visage he had drawn of her, but stubborn (something familiar) and something of great consistency to him. 

It was hard to quantify her, easier to dismiss. She was not special. Of common stature and of common shape. Plain colors adorned her closet, plain and even temperament, plain tone, and of plain face. 

That is what they would say when uncovering her past. Now that she was part of this mess, part of the mess he had sheltered her into (part of the mess Vander had shepherded her into). The dream of a larger nation, of overarching architecture and structure and reasoning. A voice, they figured between the four of them, a voice that would listen and learn and speak loudly in the face of the injustices they had survived and crawled through. 

But he figured they would only comment on her appearance, perhaps. Of her coal stained shoes and the dirt under her picked nails. 

They would not know the woman behind it all. Would not know of Felicia either (now). Not with the violence inflicted on the bridge. Not with the weapon staining his hand (an accident he had sworn to them both). 

He knew of the woman before him though, knew of her mind and spite and grit. Knew of her work and the lengths and dredges she had come from. Knew of her grief. Something he sequestered in the back of his mind. Survive survive survive. She had once compared Zaun’s residents to roaches. Unkillable, dirty, and strikingly annoying. She meant it in an endearing way, she had to. She was a roach too. 

It was a different kind of insect, a different animal, that drove him to draw a gun on the woman he loved so dearly. He wouldn’t have thought to wrap a finger around the trigger if it weren’t for the feral instinct of preservation. He could discern danger like a sense, it came as easily as smell, as sight, as breathing. But it had him stuttering now, seeing her on the other end of his warranted violence (was it warranted?). 

She was a structure of poise, like usual. Another reason to keep the gun drawn to her. The silence in her acceptance of his decision. He knew though, that if they both survived the grief of his mistake she wouldn’t forgive him- never forgive him for registering her as a threat. How could she be? 

He had been waiting for the retaliation. He hid away in corners and along dark walls in wait. He waited for Vander to seek a sort of violence in him, the last violence the large man would ever do. Seek blood in the name of their shared friend, for the orphans he made. He was sick, sick with the thought of it most days. But composed, up until this point. Up until Vander used his last facilities to shake his roach of a mind from the corners of the nation they once dreamed of in the depth of caves and between stone-cold walls. She was it, was that thing that would make him waver, and he knew that. 

She had her palms raised, hands shaking. But composed, as usual. It was hard to shake the structure of her. She was rarely surprised by violence, much less the plights of men. She wasn’t quick to anger, wasn’t weepy at the thought of destruction, and stood as strong as cavernous walls, sturdy against the infrastructure of the Undercity. He admired that, he loved that. 

She had only shaken a total of three times, in front of him. Only bent her head and neck and bowed before him in emotion all of three times. Imprinted in his mind, the cascade of her hair, the shaking of her shoulders, and the sightless grief in her eyes. 

The first was the first time he truly saw her. She consumed herself with work. Whether it be their laborious job in the mines or the turmoil of finding justice in an unjustified upbringing. She had broken one day, that very first day. 

She was a sightless, unknowing girl in the crowd. But something about her hunched structure had struck him differently that day. He was younger then, only twelve. He knew of empathy but had yet to experience it. But he was shackled by it then, that day, when he first saw her. Hands bloody through her miners' gloves, shoes holey from the trek to and fro. She was younger, by a year or two. It was not unusual to find distressed children in the Undercity, perhaps more common than people would like to comment. Children, like they were, grew along the walls and innards of the city, meshed into stony hallways and bridges, faded into noise and paint of the background. It should go unnoticed by most, a crying child. But it struck him differently, then. 

The second, the day she confessed unfounded feelings. Years in the making, the dredges of the relationship between them. Even now, he could not comprehend the strings that were strapped between them. It was more than stuttered words and whispered confessions. It felt undying between them, an acceptance. 

She had been confused at the progression of their relationship, as was he. No reference to be found between them of a structure to hold their relationship. They took it in stride, took and molded their wants between them to breathe easily. Wind through a metal chime, ultimately peaceful, but prone to knots. Their strings overlaying, knotting, tightening. He had never thought to unweave them when he fled. The tug of knots and her heart led her back to him anyway. 

The third time would be now. The shake of her hands and the draw of her legs. The shimmering tears rounding along her chin. She was beautiful. She never liked when he said so, but she was captivating. He didn’t enjoy seeing her cry, it unsettled a deep dark part of him. One he would crush and stamp down, that domineering possessive part of him. He thinks of drawing the gun to his foot, squeezing the trigger at his incompetence and attitude to make her cry (this was the second time now, he swore, two strikes in the threads between them). 

“Please.” She never pleaded. “Please Silco, come home.” The grit of her teeth against a stutter, the shuddering of her breath in the cavities of her chest. Grief, unfounded. 

“You know I can’t, dear.” Too quick for his liking, he responded. He had backed himself into a dark corner, grown leaves into walls, and hid in shadows of the Undercity bridges now. It would have to be without her though, he grieved again. He had sunk so far into the stones, in the murky water of the Undercity, it wouldn’t be safe for her to follow. 

“I’m sorry.” An afterthought. A forethought. What he apologized for was lost between the notch of string on his belt and the thread leading back to her shirt. Was it for Felicia? His grief? Or was it for leaving her? (Was it for the children? For the young girls that remember his visage in Felicia’s home? For the blue-haired pixy girl that asked for him between shattered bombed dreams? The girls she shushed and rocked and cried to sleep?) 

She liked to think it was for all of it. Her stupid heart forgave him anyway. 

She was far from naive, far from gullible. 

She knew of men and violence and dark waters by the ripe age of nine. Something she would teach Felicia’s daughters now too. It was why she lived, why she breathed still, her unwillingness to bend and snap her neck in the face of shadows and men. But she had forsaken that for him, craved a subjugation in his waters, and wished to follow him up ivy walls and read the ink scrawled on his stupid notebooks. Wanted to breathe life into his ideas and into Zaun. She’d follow him into the dark, knowingly leaving the unsaught dawn behind her. 

She only bent because she knew the power between them was equal though. She was sure of exactly three things when it came to Silco. 

The first being that he was flippantly deep. That he thought not in breaths but in paragraphs. That he could not speak but write for hours on end, that he could comprehend and listen and swallow and accept, and that he did not react in haste. He was full of purpose and determination. It was more than endearing, almost blindingly inspiring that he wished for not better but only ever the best. 

The second being that he was a perfectionist. That his scripture was scrawling and hard to read, but comprehensive. That he enjoyed messes only because he enjoyed the meticulousness of planning and cleaning up. That he loved the structure of homes and corners of houses and the craft of cleaning something that was truly his. 

The third being that he loved of equal measure, that she was most sure of, could recognize in the dead of the night, in the depth of caves. That he was severely serious when it came to the strings strung between them, and not because of the disorder of them. He would have color-coded, would have untwisted knots, and lengthened rope if he wanted to. But that was the truth of it, that he was the farthest from a perfectionist when it came to love. That he didn’t measure distances and didn’t note words between them, because he threw away the scale of them long ago. Pulled her close, twisted words between them, and sang and hummed to her in crooks of her neck. That he wished for her continued safety above anything, and far above his own. She knew for a fact, was sure of it as she was of the red-pitched brick outside the bar. It was as cumbersome as the smoggy sky, but as easy to swallow as any dark liquor. That he loved her in dark corners that made him. 

But there were dark corners of her he did not know of yet. 

That the consuming grief of her long-time friend sent her into a rage, that the stabilization and measurements between them fell and broke when he was not there for her to confide in. She wished above all else that he had stayed, that he had faced Vander’s anger. She had stayed, breathed, and swam the storm of their mutual friends' grief. Stayed for the children and for their grief also. Did that make him a coward?

“For what.” She asks, the caverns of her lungs shaking now. Her hands weak, falling to her side. “Don’t say that, don’t say that if you don’t know what for.” It was senseless and miscalculated of him to say sorry. He is so purposeful, so full of preserverations. She just wished he did not feel he had to preserve himself in the face of her. 

The gun shakes now, dropping to his side, his finger poised along the trigger still. The depth of the scarcity of her image still shook him. It had been weeks, what felt like months since he’d seen her face. 

He had seen her in crowds, seen the children marking her frame and clutched in her arms. It shook him to not wake up to her face anymore, much less her smell or her frame or her voice. Her face though, the visage of tears and the weakness of her arms, awoke something in him. 

He had to remember himself, why he left. To build a nation, to structure a future for her. For the new shadows of Felicia that followed in her wake now. 

“Everything.” He meant. “For everything, my love.” 

She sighs deeply, tired. Her head tilting to the left on instinct. Powder made a home in the crook of her neck most nights now. 

It was striking to see him. She dreamed of him between nightmares and dreamless sleep. Dreamed of waking up to him, of the quirk of his lips and the crook of his nose. The smell of him and the warmth of his embrace. The fold of his jacket around her shoulders and the breath of a kiss along her brow. When she woke she could not decide the ups and downs of walls, couldn’t decide if it was a tortuous nightmare to be awake or to be asleep. 

It strikes her when he steps forward from the shadowed corner she had backed him into. His hair is longer, his eyes deeper and darker, his clothes caked with dirt. She thinks to be insistent again. Thinks of bringing him home despite Vanders’ anger, despite the grief they shared between them. But wasn’t Silco grieving also? 

He approaches with stuttering steps. Unsure of the length of strings between them, grasping her to tie her tight again to him, when he reaches for the curve of her cheek and jaw. 

“Don’t cry.” He commands for the third time in her life, sweeping his thumb and fingers along her wet cheeks. She shutters around it, breathing between the mess of string and space between them. 

“Good.” He hums, bringing his fingers to the nape of her neck, curving her neck up in revelation. He bends his own in subjugation to her, curving his shoulders and bowing to her visage to meet familiarly between them. Curving his slight frame and lips against her own warmth, the common parts of her beat faster at the affection. It burst between them, the movement of endearment and familiarity. She forgot about this above all, missing the plainer parts of life you don’t know to miss until they are gone. 

She’d miss him again and again, would string along strings and set fires in dark paths and along walls searching for him. They’d say goodbye now, and say goodbye again once she traced him back down to the cobblestone he had slid into and out of. She’d look for him in architecture and in the children of the Undercity, she’d swear and kiss away it all now, though. Anything to push off the knots between them, anything to stop a stuttering goodbye between them that was as inevitable as her own death. A thousand of them, these tiny goodbyes, she’d take though, if it meant he lived. 

Lived farther down below than she’s ever been. But then again, there were corners and foothills in her mind he did not know of, yet. 

[sunny44]

I can’t stay

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!reader

Warnings: discussion, casual relationship, ants

Summary: Y/n and Lando confront their feelings for each other as they struggle with the complexities of their casual relationship. Despite their initial agreement, emotions run high, leading to difficult decisions and heartache.

Next Part

As Lando's fingers comb through my hair to rest at the back of my head, he pulls me in and leaves a kiss on my forehead, and in that moment I feel a sense of comfort and happiness.

Until it's all ruined by a single sentence.

"I have to go." he murmurs softly.

I understand the reasons behind his departure, the need to maintain boundaries and keep emotions in check, but it doesn't stop me from feeling disappointed. And I knew I shouldn't feel this way since we agreed it would be something casual since we both ended our relationships at the same time and decided to find comfort in each other.

But over time things changed and I knew I was on a dangerous path of feelings but in the beginning I thought it was just because he helped me get over my ex, but in the end it was just me falling in love with him.

“Why can't you spend the night?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, hoping he'd reconsider and just for one night I could feel like he was really mine.

Lando's expression changes, a mixture of resignation and determination.

“You know why.” he replies, his tone gentle, but firm.

"But what harm would it do?" I pressed, searching his eyes for a hint of hesitation and that he would reconsider staying. “Just tonight.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“It's complicated." Feeling a wave of frustration, I sit up on the couch.

“We've been through bigger complications.” I argue, pleading for him to see things from my point of view.

"It's not the same." Lando insists, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Why not?" you counter, unable to understand his reluctance.

Lando pauses, his gaze searching yours.

“I just... I don't want to complicate things further. I don't want another relationship like the last one I had.”

"But it won't be the same, I'm not like your ex." Lando hesitates, his expression conflicted.

“But I don't want it to end up like her, I care too much about you for us to end up as mere strangers.” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

My heart skips a beat with his confession, emotions swirling inside me.

“And you think pushing me away is the best option?" I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes.

Lando reaches out to wipe away my tears, his touch gentle and comforting.

"I'm sorry.” he murmurs, his eyes filled with regret. "I just... I don't want to hurt you."

“Too late for that don't you think?” I asked ironically and he sighed.

“I'm leaving.” He says standing up.

"I don't want you to leave." I admit, my voice trembling with emotion.

Lando hugs me, holding me close.

“I know.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "But sometimes... it's better this way."

As he reluctantly pulls away, I watch him gather his things, a feeling of sadness washing over him.

“If you walk out that door it's over.” I give him my ultimatum and he was with his hand on the doorknob and he leaned his head on the door.

“Please don't do this.”

“I'm not doing anything, the decision is yours.” I sniffed and wiped the tears from my face. “I can't do this anymore, I can't keep being with you and acting like we're a couple just for you to leave me at the end of the night and show up at my door weeks later to repeat the same thing.”

“Y/n…”

“It's up to you Lando.” He was still with his back to me and I sat on the couch.

And seconds later my heart shattered into thousands of pieces when I heard the sound of the door opening and then closing.

Hey guys, hope you like this chapter.

This will have a part 2 so if you guys want to be on the tag list, leave a comment here so I’ll tag you for the next one

[sundayeleith]

Leander theories : his route

On my last Leander post, I had a very interesting comment and my answer was getting so long I decided a post would be most digestible and it's more about Leander's route outcome which I've been itching to talk about more extensively. So here's the comment left by @bulletmedic !

I agree with this take, well mostly the first part. MC reacts very differently to Leander than the other 4. As I said in my previous post, they very firmly don't want to show or talk about their curse, yet look at them tell Leander anyways. Something is off and it's not bad writing, it was put there deliberatly.

As for the route itself, tldr : yes and no. I think Leander could fall in love with MC no matter what up a certain point in the story or that it depends on certain choices we make.

More under the cut !

Leander, Leander, Leander. Quite the man. I thought about his route structure and outcome so mainy times. As I said above, I have 2 ideas on how the route could go. Again I could be completely wrong but I'm not here to be right just give my 2 cents (and because I love talking about him dqojdqpojzdqzpoidjfqz).

First I want to talk a bit about Leander's goal. In v2.0, it's been made more clear that Leander wants MC's powers for himself, is it by keeping them alive or not. So the "basement wife" scenario wouldn't be impossible, especially if he falls for MC but his obsession around them and their power mix and twist into something more sinister. I don't think Leander is a yandere, or not one in the strict sense of the term but rather borders on the idea in a more complex way justified by the narative and his writing (not saying it's good, just saying that if written well and given logic explenation that could turn out better than just a plain classic yandere trope).

Now, the first posibility : he falls in love anyways but the ending we get depends on choices we make. My take is Leander will either chose his goal/plan or MC. Or try to stop the plan put in motion to save them and either fail or succeed. For the first one, I'd say if MC is too distant Leander won't hesitate too much to sacrifce them for his bigger goal and agenda. He'd hate it, but he needs to do what he needs to do. The second scenario works well with the first one and could be another bad end branching if he decides to save MC. Here I think if MC trusted him enough, he could succeed or something like that.

Then the other posibility : Oh that one would be absolute cinema. Imagine thinking Leander is falling for MC, that you made the right choices only for him to reveal he was lying this whole time and you got trapped. Oh the betrayal. Oh I would get my life if that's the case. The drama of it all. That could mean we need to get the right balance between being distant enough to survive and avoid an early bad ending but not to get a full bad ending either. Just like Leander, we need to play our cards right and chose when to open up and warm up to him in the right moments. Being receptive to his fake charms would get us in danger, while being receptive to a more authentic heart to heart conversation would get us more high in his esteem. Higher than a mere pawn at least.

He is such a complicated character in my eyes, he craves authenticity and a true bond even just friendship, but can't afford it. He can't let a single weakness settle in, and still he feels lonely to the point he tries to fill that void by being liked by everyone (tho he does so for his plan not just out of loneliness). Only to remember a friend to everyone is a friend to no one. Idk what his deal his I need to beat him to death

Me each time I try to guess Leander's motivations and main goal.

Hope that it made sense and was fun to read >:)

[wwinterwitch]

choosing ─ bucky barnes x reader x ava starr

summary: you started to fall for bucky almost as soon as you met, but it's impossible to pretend like you completely got over your complex feelings for ava. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader, ava starr x fem!reader word count: 7.6k tags: bisexual!reader, poly dynamics (nothing happens between bucky and ava tho), new avengers featured, angst and fluff, comfort too i guess, happy ending, kissing, proofread but this story changed a lot so some pronouns might be all over the place because it used to be an oc fic rather than x reader oops so keep that in mind!

a reblog and/or comment is always appreciated!

main masterlist | marvel masterlist

The chemistry between you and Bucky is undeniable. There's something about the playful banter and the stolen glances here and there when one of you thinks the other isn't looking that makes it painfully obvious. You two aren't just co-workers or friends.

You were somewhat aware of Bucky's existence before getting involved in all of this mess. You have heard a few things about the tragic fate of Steve Rogers' best friend and his path of redemption. The former assassin becomes a struggling politician.

But Bucky probably didn't know much about you before the team was formed. How could he? You’ve been keeping an extremely low profile most of your life. That's how you keep a good reputation in your line of work. You’re good at disappearing and making people disappear. One of a kind, as the Kingpin used to remind you. He was the one who recommended you to Valentina before you officially cut any ties– from one shitty employer to another.

There was something there from the moment the two of you met, after you and the others managed to escape that death trap Valentina had set for everyone. An unspoken thing that somehow was too loud to ignore.

Perhaps neither of you wanted to acknowledge it at the time. Perhaps you thought nothing would come out of it. Perhaps you were way too focused on the life-or-death situation involving The Sentry to really pay any attention to your growing chemistry.

Bucky can't even remember the last time he has felt anything remotely romantic towards someone else, his love life being as much of a failure as his work as congressman so far. But that vacancy in his heart was something he had become used to at that point, because he simply didn't have the energy or time to care.

As for you, you have also grown accustomed to being alone, coming to terms with the idea of it after so many years in this line of work. You tried exploring the idea of having a partner but it just didn't work out the way you expected. Eventually, you figured it would be better if you didn't have those distractions, and you didn't want to put someone in danger by dragging them into your shitty life because you were selfish enough to keep them around.

But that was before. Now, you're apparently stepping up as 'The New Avengers', and that changes everything.

You all live together at the old Avengers Tower, which means you and Bucky started spending a lot of time together. There are plenty of nights where you have stayed up just talking about whatever you and Bucky feel like sharing with each other, seeing far beyond the harsh exterior you two present to the world.

This newfound proximity has made Bucky realize how painfully large that empty spot in his heart truly is, and it has shown you that it's okay to be a little selfish sometimes.

The banter is just straight up flirting at this point and pretty much everyone in the team knows what is going on– including her.

Ava has been oddly unfazed by it, and even when you should probably be relieved that she doesn't seem to care, it's impossible to deny that such indifference hurts.

It's almost pathetic to think she was one of the main reasons why you were holding back from even allowing yourself to process your attraction to Bucky in the first place, thinking you owe it to her after all these years. What a slap in the face it is to realize how little everything meant to her.

Your relationship is anything but simple. You met through Valentina, working on a few assignments together here and there but nothing too serious. Eventually, you started to get closer, but you were never an official couple– in fact, you’re not entirely sure Ava even wanted to be your girlfriend in the first place. She just needed someone to rely on and you were there to provide the comfort and companionship she's been craving for a very long time, absolutely tired of being (and feeling) alone.

You gave her a sense of purpose she thought she'd never be able to find...or so she said, because it looks like she never gave a fuck about whatever it was that you two had.

But perhaps you not working out was for the better. The situation just wasn't ideal. You had a lot of work at the time and many things to figure out on your own. Too unavailable. You would avoid any interaction that differed from a friendly or professional exchange to avoid getting into a situation where you might not know how to escape safely when it inevitably leads to failure. Ava would say something like "I've never felt this way about anyone before". And then you let her in. And then Ava would disappear. It was an endless circle– one of you would say something outrageous before avoiding contact for weeks.

Would it have worked now that you're in a far more stable situation? If Bucky never showed up, would you be together now? Ava's behavior seems to answer those questions right away. Perhaps you not working out was for the better.

You have come to a point where you wish Ava would just ignore you. That would mean that perhaps she cares at least a little bit. Instead, she acts completely normal. She simply does not care that the girl who (supposedly) 'gave her a sense of purpose' is getting closer to someone else. Not happy, not upset...just nothing.

Her indifference evidently pisses you off, because you genuinely thought that what you had was special...it was to you, at least. It’s frustrating to think back on all of those instances when you almost dared to take that extra step…to suggest that you could leave your lives as Valentina’s little helpers behind and just try to figure things out on your own. You genuinely thought that you could’ve had your chance to finally be together.

That explains why you struggled to admit to yourself that you were developing feelings for Bucky, or why you were reluctant at first to let your connection develop even further. It was only when you realized Ava never truly cared about you that you finally understood it was pointless to maintain any sense of loyalty. You let go of the guilt of developing feelings for someone else– feelings scarily similar to the ones you were developing towards Ava before everything was suddenly over between you.

Still, even when you should feel at peace with it, knowing you’re free to explore your feelings for Bucky, you don't feel okay at all. If anything, you just feel conflicted. A part of you wants to focus entirely on Bucky, but another part of you is still trying to understand how Ava is so nonchalant about this when she used to stroke your hair in the middle of the night as she thanked her for changing her life.

Any reasonable person would expect that someone with such claims would give a fuck, right?

The whole situation is confusing. You know you really like Bucky. The feelings you have for him are real and exciting. He has proven to you his intentions are sincere and genuine, and he's not afraid to express his feelings for you.

But even then, you can't deny you still care a lot about Ava. You wish you could magically forget about what you went through together, but you just can't let go of those memories. You never got a proper closure. Never quite figured out why you could never make things work. It’s impossible to let someone go when you don't fully understand the reasons why you should let them go in the first place.

These thoughts invade your mind from time to time, torturing you with the uncertainty of it all. This is definitely one of those days where you’re fixated on it. They distracted you at your training session this morning and haunted you in the shower later. Even now, as you’re walking towards the kitchen, is all you can think about.

To your luck, you bump into each other, just as Ava is trying to leave the kitchen and you’re trying to walk in. Again, you wish the other woman would just completely ignore you, or perhaps look at you with eyes filled with disappointment and betrayal. You just want her to do something. Anything to let you know she cares.

“Bob brought everyone donuts this morning, if you want some," she says extremely casually, pointing back at the kitchen before intending to continue walking.

Donuts were the breaking point, apparently.

"You've got to be kidding me, Ava."

"What?" she asks, acting genuinely confused.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Her expression changes almost immediately, jaw tightening just enough and her eyes darkening. Her face is a reflection of the uncomfortable situation she's about to endure. The inevitable conversation she knows she can't keep avoiding.

"Could we go somewhere more private?"

You don't say anything back, which Ava takes as a silent agreement. You start walking towards the elevator, immediately hitting the button that would take you to the rooftop. It's highly unlikely anyone is up there now. They're mostly up here when they want to watch the sunset or just sit underneath the stars and chat until one of you is tired enough to fall asleep (that's almost always John). 

You reach the rooftop, walking towards the small balcony area that all of you set up as a team. Each of you has a designated recliner because Alexei suggested it. The area is decorated with tons of plants that you and Yelena take care of. Ava hanged a few fairy lights on the wall. Bob tends to forget a book or two up here that somehow always contributes to the decor. Bucky claims he got a free candle at a market once and decided to keep it here (everyone knows he probably bought it intentionally but just won't confess it). Oh, and John brought a pillow from his bed once and it's still here for some reason. The entire place is painfully theirs, everyone contributing to it being what it is now.

"Alright," Ava says as soon as the two of you walk closer to the balcony, crossing her arms across her chest. "What is it?"

You scoff at her question. "Really?"

Ava clearly doesn't like your demeanor, getting more and more defensive, frowning slightly. "I just don't know what there is to talk about, to be honest."

"There's everything to talk about!" you correct with obvious exasperation. "Do you have any idea how confusing it is to see you act so normal about...about everything?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you having a hard time?"

There's a brief silence between you. You look back at her with evident conflict, feeling a knot tightening at the pit of your stomach. Ava looks extremely upset– exactly the face you were expecting to see after all these weeks of receiving absolutely nothing from her.

"I just don't understand why you don’t talk to me about how you feel."

Ava avoids looking at you now, eyes glued to her boots as she starts to mindlessly pace around the rooftop. "Because I knew it wouldn't have made a difference," she replies, almost cryptically, a weak smile adorning her lips. "I mean, I wanted to talk to you– truly, I did, but then I realized." She pauses just briefly, almost hesitating to admit what she's thinking about out loud before continuing. "I realized the way you look at him."

The comment has a far bigger effect on you than you would've ever imagined. It's particularly difficult to hear it when Ava looks so...peacefully defeated by it. Like she has come to terms with it.

"As soon as I saw that, I knew I had to stay quiet," she continues, her weak smile never fading. "I can tell Bucky cares about you a lot. You deserve to be with someone like that– someone who doesn't run away when things get too overwhelming. Someone who gives you a lot more than what I can offer."

"Please, don't tell me what I deserve," you say almost immediately. It's a nice sentiment, but you hate to hear it. "I'm the one who should decide that."

"Haven't you already made that choice?"

You get even more upset, letting out a tired sigh at Ava's inability (or perhaps reluctance) to understand just how cruel her silence has been.

"All this time, I thought you didn't care. I just assumed whatever we had was meaningless to you and that it didn't matter if I moved on."

She doesn't say anything at first, simply looking back at you. Smile fading, frown reappearing. Perhaps the gravity of her behavior is just starting to sink in. The idea of her possibly being chosen by you, flaws and everything, until she decided to walk away like many times before.

"How could you–?" she tries, voice breaking slightly at the end, feeling extremely vulnerable at this point. "How could you think that?"

"Because that's what you showed me, Ava! I can't read your mind. You didn't talk to me."

"And why didn't you talk to me?" Ava's voice sounds more desperate now, pointing a finger at you and then to herself to emphasize her words. "I just stood there and watched as you and him got closer and closer, and I had no idea what was going on," she continues, visibly shaken up, finally letting out all of her pent up emotion. "I watched him hugging you. I've heard the two of you laughing together. I’ve had to deal with everyone in the team cracking silly little jokes about the two of you. I noticed you look at him like nothing else in the room exists. And all I could do was watch."

Another silence. Ava is taking a seat on her designated recliner, hands covering her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh, not anticipating she would get this emotional. You stand in the same spot you’ve been the entire time, but as soon as you hear Ava quietly sobbing, you immediately walk up to her.

"I believe we can agree we both have trouble communicating," you start in a soft voice, kneeling to be closer to her height now that she's sitting. "I'm sorry."

Your heart sinks when Ava dares to look at you, revealing her teary eyes. "I'm sorry too," she whispers weakly, feeling incredibly vulnerable right now. She stays completely still as the girl in front of her delicately wipes her tears away. "I really don't want you to think that what we had didn't mean anything to me. It meant everything."

"I know," you reply, trying to comfort her in any way possible. She shouldn't torture herself about it right now.

Before she can stop herself, Ava is reaching for your hand, giving it a light squeeze while offering a sad smile. "I really want you to find the happiness you deserve, you know? Even if it’s not with me by your side."

It's impossible to try to come up with an answer to that right now, too overwhelmed and confused to think. Could you truly be happy if that means never exploring your connection again? It doesn't feel quite right when you try to imagine it.

Before you can say anything, Ava finishes wiping her tears away all by herself. "I'd like to be alone now, if that's okay," she says in a soft voice, showing how distraught she is.

As much as you would like to stay, maybe keep talking about the situation until you reach some sort of conclusion together, you can tell Ava is emotionally exhausted right now. The amount of sharing she has done right now is more than enough, especially considering that it's been very difficult to get her to open up in the past without her completely closing off.

"Okay," you nod, right before standing up from the ground to head back to the main floor.

You’re standing all alone inside the elevator, feeling the knot in your stomach tightening as you try to hold back your tears. You feel completely lost now, knowing whatever you choose won't keep you truly satisfied. You don't want to let go of Ava, but it'll crush you to have to end what you just discovered with Bucky.

Your guilt is eating you alive, and it's getting more and more difficult not to burst out crying. How could you be so selfish? How did you allow this to happen? Ava doesn't deserve it. Bucky doesn't deserve it. And you certainly don't deserve them.

After that emotional encounter, you spent most of the afternoon locked inside your room, away from everyone. You were in dying need of some alone time to think and truly process your feelings. You know you’ll have to make a decision, heart shattering into a million pieces at the idea of losing one of them.

The rest of the group quickly started to notice your sudden absence, starting to get increasingly concerned.

"Is she really not gonna come down?" John asks the entire group as they all gather around the dining table.

"Perhaps she's ill?" Alexei guesses with evident concern, shrugging. "Although I talked to her this morning and she seemed fine."

"Yeah, we were training today and she seemed fine," Yelena chimes in. "A bit out of it, maybe. But overall fine."

Bob briefly points at the untouched box of chinese takeout near him on top of the table. "I can go upstairs and check on her. See if she wants something to eat."

While everyone voices their concern regarding their friend, Ava quietly eats her fried rice as she avoids joining the conversation. From the opposite side of the table, Bucky watches her cautiously, finding her silence a bit strange. She's not exactly the most talkative person in the group, but she’s not this quiet either. 

"I can go," Bucky says rather suddenly. As soon as he speaks, Ava looks up at him, only to immediately look back at her food when she notices his analyzing gaze upon her already.

Bob quickly hands him the box containing your food, before closing another extra box for him to take upstairs. "I saved her a few dumplings too," he says with a soft smile, silently hoping that little gesture might make you feel better in case you need it.

Bucky grabs the boxes before heading to the elevator, making his way to your bedroom. He could see a faint light from under the door, indicating you’re probably still awake.

"Hey," he says cautiously, hearing no response. "Is it okay if I come in?"

Nothing. Just silence.

"Everyone's worried about you," he tries again. "Please. I just want to make sure you're okay."

For a second he thought you weren’t going to say or do anything, but he's gladly surprised when you finally opened the door. He takes note of how you look, immediately noticing your puffy red eyes and vacant expression.

"What happened?"

Instead of answering, you just wrap your arms around his torso for a much needed hug. He doesn't know what to do at first, holding a box of chinese takeout in each hand.

"It's been a very shitty day," you simply say after a few seconds of you just hugging in silence, moving back and towards your bed as Bucky walks further inside your room.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You hesitate at first, shrugging lightly. "You're going to hate me," you reply, still being painfully vague about the entire situation.

"I highly doubt it," Bucky comments with a smile, trying to ease the evident tension that surrounds the entire interaction. Contributing further to it, he hints at the two boxes. "Here's your food. Bob saved you a few dumplings."

You immediately smile at that, appreciating your friend's gesture. It's particularly nice considering last time they ordered chinese, you shared your adoration for dumplings with Bob. It was really just a random comment, but it looks like Bob remembered it.

Bucky takes a seat on your bed, right next to you. "Talk to me."

You have no idea how to even begin to express the complex web of thoughts that have been running through your mind the entire afternoon. How could you even express how you feel without hurting his feelings? How are you supposed to explain you have feelings for Ava and him without sounding like a selfish prick who can't seem to choose between them?

Then, suddenly, Bucky speaks again. "Does it have something to do with Ava?"

You don't reply– not verbally, at least, but Bucky's suspicions are immediately answered by your expression. A mixture of surprise and guilt, not expecting him to bring her into the conversation.

Bucky smiles again, unsure on how to approach this topic. "I've noticed a few things...I wasn't sure, though. But if it helps to ease your mind, I don't...I mean, I don't really mind."

You can't take it anymore, eyes filling with tears as you shake your head. "I feel awful," you mutter. "You don't deserve this. I can't believe I've been so selfish. I'm really sorry for creating all of this mess and dragging you into this."

"You didn't drag me into anything," he quickly replies, wrapping an arm around you in order to comfort you. "And you don't need to feel sorry. You did nothing wrong."

"But I did," you argue, a fake and ironic smile on your face as a few tears start to stream down your cheeks. "I should've been more considerate of yours and Ava's feelings. I should've been more considerate of my own feelings too, instead of ignoring what was going on."

You take a much needed pause, trying to control your breathing as more tears trail down your face, barely able to face Bucky, feeling way too ashamed to do so.

"I really do like you, Bucky. I like you so much, it's actually starting to scare me," you whisper, but Bucky can't exactly focus on your endearing words when you look so broken. "I shouldn't have been so selfish to allow us to develop more than a friendship when my feelings for Ava– as confusing as they might be, are very much there still."

He takes a second to think about your statement, not exactly knowing what to think. "So...you regret what we have?"

"No, of course not!" you quickly reply, moving back to properly look at him. It’s already crushing you, but you know the best decision would be to establish some distance if you want to truly clear your head and figure out your feelings. "I like you and I like what we have...but I can't ignore what I feel for Ava. I think I still have to figure out where she and I stand, and I don't think it's fair to put you through that."

Bucky is once again quiet, which only makes you increasingly more nervous. Silence is the worst answer. You would much rather watch him get upset and say something back at you.

What comes out of his mouth next truly shocks you. "I don't mind that you have feelings for her."

"What?" is all you could muster, beyond confusion.

"I mean, your feelings for her don't immediately invalidate your feelings for me, right?" he says, trying yet again to approach the topic very cautiously. "I don't think you're obligated to choose."

He couldn't possibly be implying...

No. Not a chance. He can't be.

But is he?

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

Bucky offers you an awkward smile. "I guess I'm just trying to say that I don’t mind being with you if you want to figure things out with Ava at the same time," he says with a light shrug.

He really is implying it!

You would've never imagined Bucky would say this. Not in a million years. You never even considered it to be a possibility. 

The only option you had ever considered was choosing, but you never stopped to think if there was a way that the three of you could make this work. The more you familiarize yourself with the idea, the more it helps to ease your inner discomfort. Perhaps part of the problem with choosing was that, deep down, you really didn't want to choose.

Not choosing makes sense. It feels right. If Ava is open to this idea, this might actually work out.

"Only if you feel comfortable with that," Bucky clarifies shortly after, because you’ve been quiet for way too long. "If it's not, I'll understand we need to take a step back from this."

You snap out of your thoughts, wiping the last few tears away. "No– it’s just…I was just thinking about what you said," you explain your sudden silence. "I actually think I'd like to explore that idea." You can’t help but smile at the mere thought of being able to freely explore your connections with the two of them without being forced to choose.

Bucky smiles back at you, reaching for your hand. "Really?"

"Really," you reply, inching closer until you’re practically on top of him, letting out a soft giggle when Bucky is fully pulling you into his lap. "I'll have to talk to Ava about it, though."

"Sure.".

There's a brief pause, and you’re unable to hold yourself back from inquiring further about this topic. "Where did this even come from?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck as you get more comfortable sitting on his lap.

Bucky shrugs. "I don't know. It just makes sense to me, I guess."

You nod, the answer seemingly enough for you. It makes sense to you too now that you have thought about it. Perhaps there’s not really much to explain when the idea simply makes sense.

Without really thinking much about it, he moves your hair to the side, just enough to expose more of his neck to him. He starts caressing the side of your face with his fingers before leaning closer, placing a few tender kisses on the side of your neck, trailing up to your jaw before finally meeting your lips. You return the kiss almost immediately, feeling the familiar butterflies you get whenever he’s around, smiling as soon as you break apart.

Bucky places a quick kiss on your forehead before speaking again. "You should eat."

"Can't I stay here on your lap a little longer?"

It’s the way you say it that has Bucky grinning, shaking his head as you giggle at his reaction. "Don't," is all he says about that, giving you a gentle pat on your upper thigh as a silent way of telling you that you should stand up. Just as you’re about to argue, he pats your thigh again.

You finally do as told, standing up to grab one of the boxes and the chopsticks to begin eating. Bucky gives you another short kiss on top of your head before leaving the room, immediately in the search for Ava.

Downstairs, he could hear the thundering laughter of Alexei even before he reached the dining room. The atmosphere around the table is cheerful. It's been a few months since Valentina’s announcement, and the group starts to feel more and more like a family. But Bucky still struggles to comprehend how he went from living in an empty apartment in D.C., to the Avengers Tower surrounded by people he would've never imagined he would learn to care for so much– and that they would care so much about him too.

"How is she?" Yelena asks as soon as she notices Bucky. The entire table stays quiet as they turn to look at him for updates. "I hope she’s not up there you did something wrong, because I swear I’ll kick your ass if you don’t behave."

He immediately throws both hands up. "I didn’t do anything. Relax."

"So the relationship is going well?" John asks, more as a way to tease his friend rather than to genuinely ask the question.

"Yeah, it’s pretty good."

"You two are a wonderful couple!" Alexei exclaims, genuinely happy that two of his best friends and teammates are together. "You know, I sensed there was something going on between you from day one."

John sighs. "So you have said every chance you get."

"No, but it’s true," Bob intervenes. "You two are very cute together."

Bucky doesn’t really know what to say, feeling a bit uncomfortable for having all the attention on him. "Thanks guys."

Yelena can only roll her eyes at the exchange. "We get it. Romance is awesome or whatever," she adds, not really caring much about it at all, wanting to go back to the original topic. "How is she?"

"She's okay. Just feeling a little exhausted," is all Bucky would share for now. The team seems satisfied with the answer, although Yelena does give him a warning look before they all resume their previous conversation.

Bucky notices Ava is still staring at him, trying to decipher if he knows more about the situation. It's clear to her that he does, as soon as she watches him shortly tilting his head to the side, hinting for her to follow him.

The group barely acknowledges what is going on, too focused on their rant about infamous movies they should definitely watch tonight. Ava stands up from her seat, following Bucky to a small lounge room nearby, away from the rest.

"What happened?" she asks, sounding incredibly defensive like she did earlier with you.

"I think you two should talk."

"Did she tell you anything?"

Bucky gives her a soft smile. "I know enough to understand you two should talk."

Ava finds this extremely confusing, squinting her eyes at him. Why is he deciding to offer his opinion on the matter? Even when she hates to admit it, the gesture is almost upsetting. You’re drifting away from her because of him. Sure, Ava hasn't been the best at handling your previous relationship– you weren't exactly perfect either, but if Bucky wasn't in the picture...perhaps you two could've figured it out by now.

She hates to think of her friend as an obstacle that stands between her and the literal woman of her dreams. It's also very conflicting, because she cares for him enough to also wish him happiness, even if it means she has to let go of you in order for him to achieve it.

"Why are you doing this? Why would you talk to me about it?"

"Because I care about her. And I also care about you. I don't want either of you to be hurting."

"But you must be feeling at least a little conflicted," she insists, not understanding how he could be so incredibly okay about this entire dynamic. "I mean...we both have feelings for her."

"Yeah, I don't really see that as a competition."

Ava frowns almost immediately. "Rude."

Bucky chuckles softly at her reaction. "That's not what I meant."

She appreciates that he’s somehow trying to lighten the mood, deciding to contribute to it. "Good, because clearly I'm a far greater catch than you."

"I wouldn't go that far," he replies, making her smile. "But really, what I meant to say is that I don't think she has to choose between us."

Ava is definitely more confused now. His last statement sounded almost like a cryptic invitation and she wasn't quite sure how to feel about it.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asks, having the idea very much present in her head, but still needing further confirmation that he really is implying such a thing.

But Bucky doesn't say anything else regarding that, and instead just reminds her, "You should talk to her."

Needless to say, Ava is immediately making her way upstairs to your bedroom for a much needed clarification on what is genuinely going on, glad to see the door half-open.

"Can I come in?" she asks before even peeking inside.

"Sure," you reply from inside. Ava walks inside the bedroom, noticing the empty boxes of the chinese takeout on top of your desk. You were probably starving after being locked up here in your room, immediately feeling even more guilty because your conversation is the reason why you decided to do that in the first place.

You’re laying on your bed, immediately standing up when Ava walks in. The little notebook in which you were previously sketching is quickly placed on your nightstand. "Would you like to sit down?"

You offer her to sit on the bed, but Ava is still feeling a little too cautious, so she chooses to sit on the chair by your desk instead. Pérhaps her fears are unjustified, but she can't shake the bad feeling that things between you might end for good tonight. Perhaps that would explain why Bucky seemed to be so calmed about this situation. Perhaps he knows you'll choose him anyway.

You take note of Ava’s behavior, your mind completely blank now, even after spending minutes rehearsing a speech to properly approach this situation. You don't remember a single word of it.

All you decide to do for now is apologize once again. "I'm so sorry about the way our conversation ended."

"You have nothing to apologize for. I didn’t handle it well either. I think we both need to work on our communication skills."

"Yeah, and I'd really like for us to communicate right now."

A brief pause. You’re trying to figure out if Ava is really up to that, while also trying to control your growing nerves. Ava notices your analyzing eyes on her, nodding. "Alright, then. Let's communicate."

"Okay, so...I had a conversation with Bucky."

There it is. Ava feels as if a bucket of ice cold water has been pulled over her head. She should've known better than to admit something was going on with her. She should've stayed quiet and allowed you and Bucky to build your relationship in peace while she suffered about it in silence. In her head, it's a much better destiny than having to sit in front of you while she hears you say exactly why you prefer Bucky over her– oh, and Bucky...how deeply she's despising him right now...

But she tries to calm herself down as soon as that avalanche of thoughts starts to invade her mind, fully aware that it comes from a place of fear, causing her to feel that sudden urge to run away again. The same urge that cost her losing you in the first place. It’s the worst possible way of dealing with her emotions.

Deep down, she knows she needs to get some sort of closure regarding this relationship. Having the opportunity to hear you and to be heard by you until there's nothing left unsaid. Perhaps that's the only way to truly move on from what you had and maybe (in time) learn to be friends.

And Bucky...how could she possibly begin to despise someone like Bucky? She's grateful to have a friend like him.

"Yes..." is all Ava has to say at the moment.

"And I– I think that conversation changed my entire perspective," you continue. For once, Ava feels more hopeful about the outcome. "I was really conflicted about having to choose because I care so much about both of you. And after talking with Bucky, I realized that maybe I don't necessarily have to choose. And not choosing shouldn't be a bad thing...if the three of us agree it isn't."

Oh, Bucky was really implying what she thought he did earlier.

Is it a bad thing? The idea doesn't sound too bad if Ava truly thinks about it. She wants to figure things out with you, just as much as she wants the two of you to have the chance to continue your relationship. Is it really impossible for two different people to have such a strong connection with the same person? And for that person to feel connected with both? One bond doesn’t necessarily cancel out the other one.

But still, is something new to her that she hasn't really thought about before. She hasn't stopped to think if it'll suit her and her relationships. 

"So...what you're basically suggesting is for us to try to work things out, while you continue dating Bucky."

You look almost embarrassed, even when you shouldn't feel like that. It's just part of communicating. If Ava says she doesn't feel up to it, you can talk it out and figure out what works for everybody.

"Yes, that's...I guess that's what I'm trying to say."

"And Bucky has already said that he's okay with that?"

"Yes."

"And you are okay with that?"

"...yes."

"And now you're asking me if I'm okay with that?"

"Ava."

"Alright, I’m sorry! It's just...I never really considered it. I've never been in this kind of situation."

"It's new to me too. It kind of makes sense to me, so I'm open to giving it a try. Maybe it turns out it doesn't work, but right now I feel like it could, and I'd like to explore that with you guys," you add. "Like the kind of risks you have to face in any kind of relationship."

Thinking about it for a moment, that statement it’s very much true. Why should this be any different than the risks and compromises you make in a monogamous relationship? Or even a relationship with a friend or a family member. It’s all about listening to the other person and compromising where you can for them. If the three of you manage to communicate and put your efforts into making it work, who says it won't actually work out?

"I guess we can give it a try," she finally says, choosing to take that risk rather than run away again. She’s willing to take the risk for you and your relationship. "Perhaps it might work."

"It could work," you say, a big smile on your face, unable to stop thinking how incredibly right this feels.

Ava is at a loss of words at first, looking down at the floor with obvious embarrassment. "So this means– like are we–" she tries, hating the way she's practically stuttering like a nervous wreck. "Does this mean we’ll get our second chance?"

"I'd really like that."

Once again, she has no idea what to say, choosing to crack a joke to ease her emotions. "Well, it's probably like the hundredth chance," she comments, standing up from the chair.

You laugh, standing up from your seat as well. "I didn't want to say it, but..."

Ava scoffs, playfully rolling her eyes. "Oh, shut up!"

"Hey, you brought it up!"

The two of you stand right in front of one another, staring into each other’s eyes in complete silence. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it’s evident that there’s some tension growing the more you look at each other. An unspoken thing between you that it’s practically impossible to ignore.

Before she can regret her impulses, Ava takes a step forward to close the space separating you, grabbing your face to bring you in for a much awaited kiss. It’s intense, passionate and incredibly desperate. It’s evident in the way you hold each other. It’s a kiss that you both have been craving for a long time, not sure if you would ever get the chance to satisfy that need.

All you can do after pulling back is to grin back at each other like fools. You let out a soft, nervous giggle before wrapping your arms around Ava’s shoulders. The other woman returns the hug almost immediately, resting her head on your shoulder as she lets out a sigh of contentment. "I missed being like this with you."

"I missed it too," you whisper. "I missed you."

Ava’s heart almost melts at that, feeling like the happiest person in the entire world. "I missed you." It feels so incredibly nice to feel like your dynamic is going back to what it used to be. After parting ways for what she thought was forever, she couldn’t help but feel an invisible barrier between you when you two were forced to reunite again back in that desert– the one that you always felt whenever you started your vicious cycle over and over again. Now, it’s as if that barrier completely disappeared, feeling the familiar comfort only you can bring into her life– for once, neither of you fear that the barrier might come back.

"Can we go to the kitchen? I feel like I need to seriously hydrate myself after crying so much today."

"I'm sorry I made you cry," Ava mutters, still holding tight onto your body. It's adorable how clingy she can be sometimes. You absolutely adore it.

"It wasn't your fault."

Ava lets out a soft sound as a complaint when she feels you trying to break the hug. "Should we go to the elevator exactly like this? I don't want to let go just yet."

"Oh, so you’re feeling extra clingy now, huh?"

She lets go as soon as she hears that you’re making fun of her. "Nevermind."

Unable to contain your laughter, you grab Ava by the arm to prevent her from walking away, pulling her back in for yet another kiss, this one much shorter than the other. "And extra grumpy, apparently."

Ava rolls her eyes again, hating to be mocked and hating that you enjoy it so much, moving once again away from you to start heading outside the bedroom. You grab the empty boxes of take out before both of you walk out into the hallway, briefly chatting about an upcoming mission you have in a few weeks together while you take the elevator to the floor below where all the common areas are.

"Ah, you’re alive!" Alexei shouts excitedly as soon as he sees the pair walking past the living room area. "We thought you wouldn't come out of your room all night."

"Are you feeling better?" Yelena asks now. Apparently, they're all getting ready to watch a movie together. That would explain why everyone is already in their pajamas, a blanket for each of them, and two large bowls of popcorn on top of the coffee table. You smile at her and nod, appreciating her concern.

"We're about to watch The Shining, if you want to join," Bob offers the two of you.

"You don't want to miss Alexei getting scared every two seconds," John jokes.

"Movies look too real!"

"And you're also way too dramatic, dad!"

"I could join you, but I need to get some water first."

"We'll be right back," Ava says this time, both of you continuing your walk to the kitchen.

Inside you meet Bucky, who's apparently waiting for the last package of microwave popcorn to be ready. He greets the two of you, glad to notice you seem to be on good terms now.

"Did you guys have a chance to talk?"

"Yup," Ava replies, leaning back against a counter while you pour yourself a large cup filled with cold water from the fridge. "Your girlfriend is also my girlfriend now, Barnes."

"Girlfriend, huh?" you comment with a smirk, turning to look at both of them. You weren’t sure if Ava would be comfortable using that term, but you’re glad to realize she might be.

"You know what I mean," she replies almost immediately, avoiding making eye contact with either of you.

"I'm glad you were able to talk and resolve things between you."

Ava looks at Bucky now, crossing her arms across her chest with a soft grin on her face. "You know, it still amazes me that out of all three, you were the one to suggest this dynamic."

"Why, because I'm over a hundred years old?"

"Well…yes."

Bucky lets out a quick laugh. "That's like thinking gay people didn't exist before the 2000s," he points out.

Ava doesn't say anything back, simply raising both of her hands up. "I guess you’re right."

Bucky gets the popcorn in a bowl, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek as he walks past you before heading outside the kitchen. You get your cup of water ready before you follow after him, joining the rest of the group.

"Please, try not to scream so much. You might actually give me a heart attack this time," Yelena warns Alexei, just as she’s moving from her seat on the large couch to give the others space to sit down as well. Meanwhile, John and Bob were sitting in a pair of armchairs, one at each side of the couch.

"If you don't want me to get scared, don't pick scary movies."

"This isn't even scary," John points out immediately after. "We'll let you pick one next week."

The remaining three sit down next to Yelena and Alexei. The movie starts, the entire room only illuminated by the large screen before you. You don’t wait before grabbing a bowl of popcorn from the table before you. Before you could eat any though, Ava reaches to grab a handful of them, smiling playfully as she does so. "Thank you," she whispers, filling her mouth with the sweet treat.

As you lay back, Bucky's arm resting on the couch behind you and Ava resting her hand on your thigh underneath the blankets, you couldn't possibly be more sure on your decision. It makes perfect sense. Not choosing makes perfect sense.

They make perfect sense.

[nsuyeula]

Been reading a lot of posts being like "how could any of them forget the truth of what happened in the wilderness like that?" - so once again I'm gonna offer my two cents as someone with a dissociative disorder ✌️

First off you need to understand there are not one, but two defining traumatic events for the surviving Yellowjackets:

Crashing and Surviving in the Wilderness.

Coming home and the Tabloid Frenzy.

Since we have only seen the wilderness part so far, it's easy to forget that coming home, readjusting while also under scrutiny of the entire world through the tabloids would have been equally as traumatising to their brains.

There is also no real end point to the latter event. It's something that follows them for the entirety of their lives. We see it most evidently with Tai because of her run for senator, but it's still an active, persisting trauma that all the girls are forced to band together to try and get through. Their lives are ruled by keeping up the collective narrative they've created, ruled by the fear of the truth coming out.

In terms of a trauma event perspective, the wilderness has a defined start and end - the moment they crash to the moment they are rescued.

Now onto the dissociation from their trauma.

To understand the fundamental core of dissociation, you need to get your head around the idea that dissociation is a tool the brain uses to protect itself / a person. Dissociation itself is not inherently bad, in fact it is utilised by trained therapist to help with things like PTSD (e.g EMDR Therapy which is used to severe the link between emotions and memories).

What makes someone have a dissociative disorder is the inability to control what they dissociate from.

In the case with all the survivors - minus Tai bc her dissociation is a lot more complex because of other Tai - they are suffering from Selective Amnesia, which is when a person can recall only small parts of events that took place in a defined period of time. 

People who develop dissociative amnesia often will not even realise that they have gaps in their memory, and as with most dissociative disorders, it will affect your ability to sense and process emotions attached to those memories.

Personal example - I have no emotional link to anything that happened before the age of 14 due to dissociation. My memories are like a series of photographs that someone else took, I can look at them and see the events but feel nothing.

So with the yellowjackets, not only are they suppressing the worst of the memories but also the worst / complexities of the emotions attached to those memories. So the girls might know they were afraid of Shauna, but not the specifics as to why nor still feel that fear at all for her.

Now, I'm going back to the two traumatic events. Like I said earlier, dissociation is the brains way of protecting its owner. It would have found itself with two things it classified as dangerous, and that their person needed to be protected from. One with a defined start and end and another that is ongoing. It can't suppress or forget the memories related to returning home and the tabloids because that would put their person in more danger because that is a continuous issue, still ongoing. While with the wilderness, that's over. They're not in that situation anymore. It's also impacting their ability to deal with the second trauma. So, of course, the brain would choose to suppress the memories of the wilderness, thinking that was for the best.

Obviously each member of the Yellowjackets would vary in how successful their dissociation would be.

Nat, I would say, is the least affected, her life and being entirely ruled by the horrors of what they had done. Her dissociation wasn't particularly strong, so she was forced to have sex, do drugs etc to cover what the dissociation didn't do.

On the other side of the scale - those with existing mental health illnesses like Lottie, Shauna and Tai seem to have had the most successfully suppressed, which makes sense as dissociation is often a symtom of many mental illnesses along with being it's own disorder.

People who are confused as to how you can get from S3 teen Shauna to S1 adult Shauna, the answer is most likely dissociation amnesia combined with the trauma that came from going home.

By the end of S3, every single surviving member of the team has regained partial to all of the truth of the memories they suppressed, which is very much possible. Shauna has partially uncovered it, but only the version that fits the established narrative of her postpartum psychosis, while Misty and Tai have regained all of their memories and no longer are dealing with altered or fuzzy versions of them.

[enticingmelanin]

Back from seeing Sinners for the third time. I really feel like I need to do a full breakdown of my thoughts.

This time around, I really honed in on the environmental sounds. The sound design is chef’s kiss. You FEEL like you're in Clarksdale, Mississippi, right there with them. It’s not only beautifully shot, it sounds beautiful AF. Ugh! I could keep watching forever.

Okay… I wasn’t too hard on Grace the first time I saw the film, but on this second and third watch? Nah. She wasn’t a real friend to the Black characters like Bo was. When she was negotiating with Smoke about the signs, notice how Bo mentions they only have red paint, and we KNOW the color red carries heavy risks and connotations. Then once Stack is killed, Bo wants to help, but Grace is basically begging him to grab the car and bounce. Like, “Fuck them.” Meanwhile, everyone else was looking out for her and Bo. And don’t get me started on Lisa. What Grace did left that poor girl an orphan… or worse.

It really reinforces the point that other communities often want to experience Black culture, but will drop us in a heartbeat—even if it ends up hurting them too. Cough this last election cough.

And THEN when Annie tells them they’re vampires and Remmick threatens her, suddenly Grace wants us to fight for her. Like… what?? As if everybody else in that room isn’t just as important. Once again, we’re expected to fight the good fight, sacrifice ourselves for others, and it’s rarely, if ever, returned. Yes, I said never. Because it’s not a critical mass of other communities showing up for us. It’s a handful, in the grand scheme of things.

Most of the characters were selfish... except Annie, Smoke, and Delta Slim. I would say Cornbread and Bo, but once they turned, they were lost and bloodthirsty. But even that could’ve been controlled, Stack didn’t go after Sammie, remember? I don't include Sammie in this critique, he did what he was supposed to do to fulfill his purpose in life.

Annie, Smoke, and Slim did what they were supposed to do. They looked out for each other until the very end. All three of them sacrificed themselves and helped others. You can tell how much Stack loved Annie and vice versa. He could’ve let her turn and joined her, but he respected her wishes. Annie was always protecting the twins, states between them stopped nothing. She passed on all that knowledge so they could survive. Delta Slim? That man kept his word. He sliced his arm open as a distraction so the others could escape. He lived a hard life and drowned his pain in alcohol, but he died a hero.

Now, back to my favorite theory… Stack having a thing for Annie. 😏 I was locked in on that moment when he bit her. He bites her, pauses, and then bites again. It felt like he had waited forever to “taste” her. This time, he beat his brother to it with Annie, even if it meant killing or turning her. I think Stack wanted her. Maybe he even noticed her first back in the day, but she was drawn to Smoke instead. Her spiritual, empathetic side was pulled to him, probably because Stack doesn’t show emotions the way Smoke does. There was definitely a wedge at some point, but they got past it. They’re twins; they love each other, even when it’s complicated.

I honestly don’t think there’ll ever be a time when this movie doesn’t make me emotional. It’s like a bittersweet, tragic dream come true. The White “savior” complex of Remmick and Mary completely wrecked everything. And no... I’m not changing my mind about Mary. I was more lenient on first watch, but she kept putting Stack and the whole community in danger. I get the “one-drop rule” and how it worked back then, but she still passed for White, and that put everyone at risk. One glance and a White person could’ve ended Stack right there. Delta Slim’s story about his friend being lynched over a lie involving a White woman? That sealed it.

Stack told her to leave him alone. He tried to push her away to protect her. But she defied him every chance she got, and other people paid the price. I get that she loved him, but he gave her every fair reason why they wouldn’t work. I’m not thrilled about them being the last ones together as vamps. Stack especially deserved peace, maybe even to reunite with his family in the afterlife. But I guess part of him felt like he couldn’t leave her behind in case she didn’t make it to the other side.

I could talk about this movie for hours, but I’ll stop here. Again… clean sweep come award season OR ELSE! 😏😍