#she just interacts with the world with only healthy fear

[wooftphr]

going to start posting shit my marine biology teacher says bc shes probably one of the most interesting people ive ever met. i dont even know how to describe it. here are some actual things about her and that ive heard her say:

-her accent is very noticeable, but equally as hard to place. at first, i thought it was bc i had just never heard or clocked it, but it did feel familiar. i just couldn’t figure out where it was from. when someone finally asked her where her accent was from, she told us “i don’t know, i just pick things up from places ive visited and lived.” which is a very long list, and you can hear the influence that every place on it has on her speech.

-“over spring break, im going to climb mount kilamanjaro!”

-the first or second week of school, she told the class that “if you need to reach me this weekend, i wont be able to answer any emails. it’s not that i don’t want to, but ill be deep beneath the earth exploring cave systems so i wont have service.”

—bonus: she shared photos of a strange Bug of some sort, greater than the size of a hand, that she had to crawl around in a very tight cave system when it wouldnt move. she also got covered in ants on this same trip, saying that “only her fingernails were visible”

-“i’ll be out of class next week, i’m going to be in a remote cabin. im planning on getting snowed in and ill be completely cut off from the world”

-“im so close to the treasure i can feel it i bet on a book at an auction and i can smell the answer, i know it has a secret that will help me get closer”

-“i used to have a t-rex jawbone but i had to leave it behind, i couldnt transport it”

-“i want to visit my friend who lives in alaska, but its so remote that i have to take a helicopter and its such a hassle not having any access to the rest or the world”

-“later on in the year, i may have to zoom to teach you all since i applied to be a part of a landmark research voyage and i am one of the final selections.”

-“i watched someone get stung by a stonefish. thankfully he survived but it was nasty stuff”

-“i was stung by several fireworms during a study. it was 2am and there was no one around, so i had to figure out a way to treat myself. for 3 years after, the hospital called ME for fireworm stings”

-she mentioned having more than 1 car, and when a student asked how she could afford multiple cars she told us “im a treasure hunter!” and DID NOT ELABORATE FURTHER!!!!!!!!!

-shes a big one piece fan because shes a treasure hunter, which is crazy because she is also the sort of woman who seems like she has not even a drop of free time she is so busy Doing Cool Shit

-“if you saw my closet, you would think i was a paleontologist”

-she is part of the explorers club, which i didn’t know was a Real Thing. like you see something like that in media and its like “oh thats an antiquity and used to emphasize the eccentricity” but no they have meetings and everything.

-“hong kong’s customs/mail system HATES me. i was the reason for a new law or two haha” its necessary to note that i dont remember this exactly, but i do remember her telling us that there is a government office in asia that has a bias specifically against her. its also necessary to note that she once again, did not elaborate.

-“and NO ONE else wanted to go into the steel cage being circled by a great white!”

-“i had to stop visiting a dolphin i was helping study because it got so excited to see me it caused problems. it kept throwing itself against the glass when it saw me because it was copying all the kids who would tap on the glass i think? it was so sad”

more to come. im obsessed with this woman ngl.

[cannellee]

HUNTER X HUNTER OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ yandere! alpha! kurapika x omega! reader

— how does he take care of his omega ?

cw : yandere, controlling behaviour, red flags, etc.

I had this sitting in my drafts for a while now... so here it is! just like for naruto and the seven deadly sins, I'll accept requests about hxh (but my main focus will still be about tokyorev!)

MY MASTERLIST: ☆

kurapika is a kind and reassuring alpha. he wants his omega to feel the safest when she's with him, to appear as flawless as possible to make her feel sheltered and in good hands.

you don't doubt him at first, kurapika is always smiling brightly. his polite smiles soothes any worry you might have as if he had everything and everyone under control.

he might manipulate you into thinking you're imagining things if you ever get suspicious of him. he's cautious, very careful about what he does and what he says in front of you. nothing would shatter his world more than see his omega wary of him. that would mean that he failed his task at shielding you from anything unpleasant and his thoughts would torture him if it ever had to happen.

kurapika is overly worried about you, you're so frail and innocent, and he knows how mean and scary the world is, especially for sweet omegas like you... which is why he got his hunter licence. kurapika had to be better, to improve himself so much to the point that no harm could be done to you.

kurapika hates unnecessary violence. you often tell him that he's kind and benevolent and that's why you love him so much. he does feel guilty about how brutally he murders all those people who had bad intentions towards you, he's afraid you'll look at him differently if you were to learn about it, but it had to be done. he would never let anything scary come close to you, he's especially vigilant that he's aware how of horribly people are able to treat soft beings like you. he has witnessed it first hand and he dreads the thought of not being capable of protecting you well enough and seeing you hurt.

kurapika is very rigorous about which individual has the right to interact with you. he's always suspicious if you say you're going out with someone or if a random person talks to you on the streets. he fears them corrupting you so much, he'll glare at them, possessively shielding you away from their gaze by putting himself in front of you, eyes red in anger and chasing them away from how powerful his scent gets. the type of scent which makes you feel more vulnerable than usual because of how bad it affects you. those domineering pheromones of him weren't meant for you and he feels so bad you had to spend such an awful moment because of him.

kurapika will baby talk to you, assuring you you don't need to go out to actually be happy. his terror of losing you grows stronger each day and the simple fact of not having you in his vision field is enough to send him into a state you're the only one able to soothe by submitting and baring your nape to him. you wait for him to scent you, all docile, while you feel his respiration calm down.

kurapika monitors you. he started by advising you certain clothes before straight out telling you what to wear. he's the one cooking for you, he can't have his precious omega hurting herself in the dangerous kitchen. he makes sure to feed you healthy meals so you're always in good shape and keep a strong body. he's putting you to sleep at the same hour each day, sometimes forcibly so because of how stubborn you can be. kurapika knows better than a dumbly cute omega like you. you need all your hours of sleep end of story. if you're persistent, he'll either drug your hot beverage with sleeping pills or coax you into agreeing by promising you he'll take you out tomorrow if you comply right now.

kurapika knows how easy it is for him to make you obey and submit, you're his omega and he knows everything there's to know about you.

overall, kurapika is insanely worried and preoccupied about his omega. he wants both your and his world to be about your relationship only, others can get lost honestly. it's fine if you don't love him immediately, his main responsibility is to protect you, you'll eventually come to love that side of him, he's sure of it. for now, all he wants is to be needed and make sure you never experience anything traumatising just like he once did, and keep that sweet and pure mind of yours untouched.

[thescarletnargacuga]

The events leading up to Cade? Hurt/Comfort, near death experience. The relief. The happiness.

A/N:ooooooh here we go! ✍️

SOUL BEARER

A HARLEQUIN SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: rough pregnancy, hurt/comfort

~~~

The first sign Caine had that Pomni wasn't herself was how exhausted she seemed after a simple retrieval mission of a charm. She didn't fight any bosses or even leave the City of Circuits, and yet she was dead on her feet. Naturally, she denied any assistance or examination. She's fine. Stop worrying.

Caine did not stop worrying. Pomni was sleeping later and later into the day without pulling all nighters. He had Bubble prepare a salmon sandwich for her. Maybe it would help her feel better. When Caine checked on her later, she barely touched it, and she was bent out the window throwing up into the bushes below.

"Pomni, my dear, please tell me what's going on. I've never seen a puppet get so violently physically ill like this, not without heavy binge drinking, but that's beside the point." Caine held her hair out of her face as she finished ejecting the contents of her pseudo digestive tract.

Pomni wiped away black bile dripping down her chin. "I'm...fine. Just...bad fish."

Caine didn't believe that for a second, but he wasn't to the point of forcing her to the workshop for an evaluation. "You can tell me if you're not okay, Pomni. Do you remember what I told you?"

Pomni ran her hand through her hair, her head was throbbing and her chest felt heavy. "...that you love me."

"Exactly. Through sickness and through health. I'm here for you. Please don't hide it from me. Let me care about you." Caine guided her back to bed and did a visual examination as he tucked her back in. Aside from the signs of exhaustion, she seemed healthy. Maybe he's pushed her too far with the amount of missions, but this is the first time he's ever seen her run out of steam.

Caine kissed her forehead and left her to rest. He has Bubble stay outside her room under orders that if she needs anything, to contact him immediately. He spent the next few days pouring through his notes on puppet physiology. How the internal flesh reacts to different physical and mental stressors. Nothing was adding up. Whatever was happening was new, and that scared him.

~

Pomni's health continued to decline. She tried to force herself out of bed out of boredom, but the extreme exhaustion would force her down every time. Caine couldn't take it anymore. He carried her down to the workshop and laid her on the examination table. Her letting him take her without so much as a grunt of protest out urgency in his step.

The first thing he did was open her chest to check her heart. Her internal flesh that sprouted from her D.I.E had almost completely retracted back. The fleshy vines were thin and brittle, starved of energy. Caine's hands trembled as he opened her heart, exposing the D.I.E that contained her soul.

Pomni was barely conscious on the table beneath him. She had just enough energy to lift her hand and grab his shirt, getting his attention. "I love you..." She said weakly and passed out.

Caine's eyes widened and he cradled her face. "Pomni? Pomni??" Now he feared he waited too long. He went back to her D.I.E. It's glow was very faint. He carefully extracted it from her heart, her body going dead still.

He focused energy into his palm, giving her soul a taste of his own. "There you go. Drink up. You poor thing. What is happening to you?" The more he interacted with her soul, the more he could tell what was off about it. The energy he was giving her was being syphoned elsewhere. He followed the flow of energy to a second presence within the D.I.E. "What in the world?"

Her type of D.I.E was designed to house only one soul. The presence of a second led him to the conclusion that Pomni's soul was fragmenting itself. He got a blank D.I.E and proceeded to extract the secondary soul. Afterwards, the larger fragment of Pomni's soul came back to it's original glow thanks to him feeding it his own energy.

The secondary soul flickered softly in his other hand, like low candle light. His energy examined it curiously. It felt like Pomni, but also...not? It was strange. "Where did you come from, little one?" The small soul reacted positively to his presence, like it recognized him.

Caine held the secondary soul right in his palm as he returned Pomni's D.I.E to her body. It took a few minutes, but Pomni opened her eyes. She sat up slowly, Caine helping her up. "Fuck...that was awful. For a second, I thought-..." She turned and embraced Caine.

Caine held her tightly to his chest. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I went ten rounds with every boss I've ever fought all at once, but at least I can stay awake for more than five minutes. What happened to me?"

Caine opened his palm and showed her the D.I.E containing the secondary soul. "I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but it seems your soul fragmented itself. Say hello to the little troublemaker that knocked you on your ass." He chuckled.

Pomni took the D.I.E and looked at it closely. The small soul reacted excitedly, flaring up in her hand. What little energy she had to spare reached out to it, and it felt like interacting with Caine....but also not. "Are you sure this isn't just a part of you that clung to me when we...uh...bonded?" She asked with a subtle blush on her face as she remembered what they did.

Caine held her hand holding the D.I.E. "I really don't know. When I inspected it, it didn't feel like a part of me, but it also didn't fully feel like you either. Whatever- WHOever this is, they're new. However...because this came from your heart and it was such a hassle, even becoming dangerous to your health...I'll let you be the judge of what we do next. Do you wish to keep it?"

They sat in silence for a moment, just basking in the glow of the new soul. It felt like it was reaching out to both hands cradling it. Pomni felt a connection to the soul. It was new, but also a part of her and Caine. Was this...a child? "He stays."

"He?" Caine asked. "How can you tell?"

"I just can. Caine...I think we have a son."

Caine blinked in astonishment. The new soul being the result of esoteric procreation was not on his list of possibilities. He hand closed around Pomni's, who in turn closed around the new soul protectively. "We made new life..." He was still in complete disbelief.

"Cade." Pomni said softly.

"What?"

"His name. Cade." Pomni used her free hand to cover Caine's and held the combined parental embrace over the new soul to her chest. Somewhere, deep within her heart, her soul rejoiced in the presence of her new son. Perhaps the person's soul she holds always wanted to be a mother.

"That's perfect. I'll get on building him a body right away. If he is who you believe...maybe I should include physical traits from both of us."

"You don't think this is your son?"

"I don't know what to think, Pomni. I thought I was watching you die, so I'm a bit drained myself. It does have an interesting reaction to my presence. Otherwise...I just don't know yet. But, if you are certain this is our child, then I won't question you. It was literally inside you for who knows how long. You would know better than I."

"You're afraid." Pomni said flatly, looking him in the eye.

Caine sighed. "I never thought I'd be good father material. I suppose this just...has me feeling defensive. Not that the concept of children has even been considered possible since the fall of humanity, so this is extraordinarily unexpected."

"Yeah....you're right. I feel caught off guard too but, it...I don't know. I feel...connected to him. I can't just let him go. This is mine now."

Caine smiled softly and kissed Pomni's temple. "Congratulations, on becoming a mother."

"Thanks, daddy." She sniggered at her own joke the second it left her lips.

"WOW. I mean, wow Pomni. Thanks for ruining the moment." He tried to sound annoyed but he was half laughing.

Pomni leaned into Caine and kissed his lower jaw softly. "Let me try again. Congrats, you're a dad, and you're going to be the best."

"Maybe...I've certainly had enough practice wrangling all of you weirdos that live in the manor. What's one more?"

"Our little weirdo." Pomni smiled.

"Ours..." Caine smiled back.

[syndrossi]

resonant ch26 dvd commentary

That's right, it's a series now!

Favorite line:

“They will return soon enough,” he told the tiny dragons, feeling a kindred dismay that his sons had gone riding with someone other than him. “Until then, you must content yourselves with me.”

It's not my favorite chapter, and doesn't have any real bangers, but this was a fun little exchange. The mental image of Qelebrys and Shadow perched on Daemon's shoulders, all three of them wearing a glum/pouting expression, is very cute.

Favorite detail:

Carrying the theme that Daemon noticed when he took Rhaegar and Jon on Caraxes to and from the Giant's Toe, where Rhaegar is drawn to the beauty of the world when he's up high on a dragon, while Jon is looking at those ships below and pondering their significance. It's just as much reflective of their life experience as personality. Jon without the burdens he carries of having been a leader, responsible for administering multiple wars, might be able to afford to look upward or forward, rather than downward at the world encroaching in.

Favorite dynamic:

We had a few barbs traded with Cole, but it was fairly tame. Rhaenys and Daemon are my favorite dynamic again, in part because I enjoy writing people giving advice that makes sense to them but isn't necessarily the most healthy. No one character is an infinite font of wisdom, existing to dispense it to our heroes. Everyone has their own faults, flaws, self-interest, etc, and their advice is colored by it.

I'm talking, of course, about Rhaenys basically telling Daemon to suck it up, give up on having a good relationship with his brother founded on mutual understanding, and resign himself to the fact that his brother prefers a version of Daemon that isn't real, with all the edges filed off. Daemon does in fact know his brother better than Rhaenys, so it's actually not the best advice in this situation!

But it doesn't mean he didn't need to hear some version of "suck it up and figure out an approach," because he's been reactive/passive so far with Viserys. (Some of that is out of fear, to be fair.) But he can't afford to be afraid/not take risks, Rhaenys believes. Not with so much at stake.

(Rhaenys is not without her own self-interest, either.)

And Rhaenys has a better grasp on Otto than Daemon. She's not wrong about what he fears. So that was also good context for Daemon, if he pays it heed. But the conversation doesn't leave Daemon in a great place at the end, sadly.

"Quick" hitters:

I mentioned this before, but there were three separate scenes written for and removed from this chapter, including one that was up in the draft I saved on AO3 and then removed this morning before I posted it.

I think I figured out my real issue with this chapter, and it comes down to using the wrong lens during the Dragonpit parts. We're focused in tightly on Daemon and Rhaenys's conversation, which is fine/fair, but we pull back too much for the kids and hatchlings interactions. It would have been nice to perhaps get the actual introduction of the dragons as dialogue rather than exposition, and focus in a bit more on Jon during the final naming.

The chapter feels very self-indulgent and filler-y, which may be while I feel guilty about writing it. Not that you can't write those things, but I always feel like they fit better in side-stories.

Jon naming Shadow was added into this chapter after the fact. I'd decided on the name a while ago and kept trying to find the perfect moment for it, only for it to not really materialize. Jon making it a game the baby cousins could join in on ended up feeling right.

I kept going back and forth between the Valyrian and Common versions of "Shadow," but at the end of the day, Jon has a theme.

I really liked Harrenkos for a name ("suitably long" in Valyrian), given that Shadow is a longer boi than most.

With Laenor and Rhaenys about to be gone, and Rhaenyra in Dragonstone, the poor Velaryon boys are about to be on their own (with their nurses) for a while, poor lambs. We'll see if Daemon invites them over for supper a few times. That's a lot of kids to wrangle by himself!

I'd been holding onto this, but I don't think it's something I'll end up doing later on in the story, so I'll go ahead and share one of the deleted, incomplete scenes. Originally, there was going to be an attack on the carriage on the way back, but Daemon being up in the air on Caraxes made it a really poor choice on the part of their attackers (and the attack itself a little too obvious not to have the place swarmed with Goldcloaks), so I scrapped it.

Apologies to Rhaegar, who was going to get a hero moment and possibly his first kill (though I didn't get that far).

x~x~x

The hatchlings were exhausted after their exciting day, each settling on their laps to nap for the carriage ride back to the Red Keep. Jace soon followed their example, nodding off against Princess Rhaenys’s side twice before she rearranged him so that he could rest his head on her lap.

Jon had enjoyed their day out, but he did feel a sting of regret at not being able to accomplish either of the things he had wanted to today: gaining an audience with King Viserys, and speaking to their father about the candle. There was always tonight for the latter—or tomorrow. But he hated the thought of it continuing its efforts to torment Rhaegar, especially since they were now separated in the afternoon.

“Did you hear anything today?” he whispered to Rhaegar.

“Not in the yard,” his brother said, which was not a no.

The bumpiness of the ride down the sloped path leading from the Dragonpit gave way to the cobblestone of the Street of the Sisters. The sun had set, and the sky was halfway to twilight, leaving the interior of the carriage dark. Jon tuned his senses to hearing to distract from the unpleasant odor of Flea Bottom, which the street passed through briefly.

It was quieter than he remembered. Even the slums of King’s Landing had their equivalent of markets, and plenty of peddlers hawking their wares. He sat up straighter in his seat as the carriage slowed, and the strong scent of burning wood wafted through the window. He could hear the low murmur of their two Kingsguard ahead of the horses.

Jon glanced at Rhaegar, who met his gaze with a tense frown as their hatchlings stirred on their laps. Princess Rhaenys meanwhile was gently shaking Jace awake, turning to glance behind at the window. A glow was visible now, lighting up the area, and calls began to ring out from further away. Jon stood on his seat to get a better view; up ahead, he could see buildings aflame on either side of the street, and what looked to have once been a wagon burning in their path.

“Can we go around?” Jon heard Ser Erryk—or Arryk—say in a low tone to the carriage driver.

“Only if you fancy going deeper into Flea Bottom,” the man said.

“Turn back,” the Kingsguard ordered. “We will return to the Dragonpit.”

Smoke was beginning to drift through the window, stinging his eyes, and the shouts were growing louder. Jon reached carefully for his knife, which was strapped against his leg beneath his pants, though he did not yet slide it free. It was possible that whatever fire had broken out along their path was entirely accidental, but if so, it was extraordinarily convenient timing.

The clack of horseshoes on cobblestone was just audible over the din as one of the Kingsguard pulled alongside them. “My princess, remain within. We will turn and head back to the Dragonpit until the fires are put out.”

The tension in the knight’s voice told Jon that he too believed it to be no coincidence. The street was still narrow at this point, which meant two very long minutes of horse and carriage maneuvering to turn back north.

Too long.

The horrible scream of a wounded horse pierced through the din, and through the haze of the smoke still spilling in through the window, Jon could make out the shaft of an arrow embedded in its flank. Two clanking noises followed, the noise familiar to Jon—the clatter arrows deflected by a shield.

“Ser Erryk,” Princess Rhaenys called out tensely, holding Jace tightly to her side. Their young cousin was wide awake now, eyes large with fear.

There came another two loud thuds, this time above them, and Jon could see the point of an arrow splitting through the wood of the roof, and another a foot away from it.

“They are trying to set the carriage aflame, princess,” the knight said. By the sounds of it, he had drawn up along the side of the carriage opposite from where the first two arrows had come. “You and the children may need to leave it, if the fire catches.”

Jon could hear the agony of indecision in his voice. The carriage afforded protection from arrows, but the longer they remained within, the longer whoever was attacking it could get into position for—whatever it was they were after.

Us? Jon wondered. So far, none of the arrows had been aimed at the body of the carriage, but even so, he dragged Rhaegar several inches further from the wall. The other Cargyll brother joined his twin on the safe side of the carriage.

“There are at least four with bows,” he said. “They do not yet approach.”

The horse’s screams were quieting, which Jon knew meant another obstruction on the road. The smoke was growing thicker, enough to make Jace cough, and a glance upward revealed a darkening of the wood of the roof.

“Jon.” Rhaegar’s voice was low but urgent, his face set with tension. He extended a hand toward Jon. “Give me the knife.”

His first instinct was to deny the request, the notion of being unarmed in the chaos nearly unthinkable, but his arm was still injured. Rhaegar might lack Jon’s experience in a real melee, but he stood a better chance of defending them.

[end scene]

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

New chapter is up for my Feyd-Rautha/Reader fic. I'll provide the AO3 link here: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 3 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

But if you'd prefer to read it here I can provide it under the cut. As you can imagine, there are trigger warnings for this fic in general as well as this chapter.

TW: arranged marriage, forced marriage, dubious consent, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced incest, heavy violence, first times, rough sex, blood kinks, and of course Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning.

If you haven't read my fic yet I do recommend reading the prologue and first chapter to get what's going on. It's all on AO3.

CHAPTER TWO: THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN DREADING

“It’s time, Na-Baroness.”

You turn to look at her.  She keeps her head down.  “We need to get you to your bedchambers to prepare,” she adds.

You take a breath.  He and everyone else need you to be living and healthy at least for the time being.  You’ll be able to manage whatever happens tonight, you tell yourself.

You give a small nod, reach for your goblet, and finish the contents in three big swallows before setting it down.

Your mother sees you get up and her eyes widen just a fraction.  You smile at her as you make a detour to wish your family a good night.

“I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast,” you tell your parents.  Afterwards all off-world guests will be going home, and you’ll have to deal with the fact that this desolate killing field of a planet is your home now.  You try not to think about how you probably won’t be seeing any of your family again until the next wedding or funeral as you give each of them a crushing hug.  When your younger sister hugs you back, you wonder if she’s thinking about her future, if she’s terrified that she’ll have an even worse match.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Father tells you as you pull away from his embrace.  When he looks at you, you can tell he’s thinking, I’d give anything right now for you to have been born a son.

“Thank you, Father,” you tell him, thinking, Come on, now.  You can’t put me up to this marriage in the first place and then act as though I’m going to my execution.  You need for them to have hope that you’ll be okay.  One of you has to believe that I can get through this.

You sense the Baron watching you.  You can feel his distaste at the open sentimentality but he doesn’t say anything, so it seems that he’ll allow it.  How kind of him, you think bitterly.

When you start to move past them your mother tugs at your wrist one last time and you turn to face her.  She doesn’t say anything, so you end up speaking for her.

“It’ll be alright,” you say softly, taking her hands.

She almost smiles, then swallows.  “I should be the one saying that to you,” she says.  You just give her a small smile of your own and kiss her cheek.  You end up letting go of her hands first, but it takes only the first tug for her to relinquish yours.  You resume your trek out of the Great Hall when you reach the head of the table and stop, remembering one last obligation before you go.

You need to pay your respects to the Baron first and it makes you hesitate.  You don’t want to talk to him, don’t want to look at him, don’t want to even think about him.  His nephew strikes fear in you, but there’s a kind of revulsion that the Baron inspires that is tangible even as you can’t quite explain it.  Even if you didn’t know his reputation as a bloodthirsty warmonger that makes your father seem like a pacifist by comparison, even though you’re sure that there’s more you haven’t discovered yet, even with the limited interactions you’ve actually had with him, he makes your skin crawl.  You step forward, eyes downcast, incline your head, and dip into the deepest curtsy you can manage in your gown.

“Thank you, Baron, for your gifts, your kind reception, and your hospitality,” you tell him.

After a pause he seems to think you’ve expressed an adequate amount of gratitude and says, “May you continue to please my lovely nephew,” he responds, voice low enough that your family won’t hear but the people next to him will.  He knows that you know what he means.

Contempt and shame war within you.  You refuse to look up at him.  “Yes, Baron,” you manage, face flushing.  Your hands shake.  You rise and turn away.  Idrisa’s there within arm’s reach to escort you out.

It’s a long stretch of silence to get from the Great Hall to the Harkonnen private chambers, but neither of you know quite what to say that you’d be willing to risk anyone hearing.

She guides you back into your bedchambers.  Once there, you stand in the middle of the room, frozen and useless.  “Will he want me in this?” you ask after a moment.  You picture him tearing the fabric of your underskirts, maybe slicing your bodice with one of his hidden blades.  It’s easy to picture him desecrating a symbol of your union.  It’s also easy to picture him simply pulling down your undergarment, bending you over the nearest flat surface, and debasing you as you’re still fully clothed.

Idrisa shakes her head.  “The Na-Baron had some specific requests.  He’d like you out of this,” she says.  “I’ll help you.”

She’s so gentle with her touch and the meticulous way she undoes your bodice and arranges your skirts that it unnerves you rather than soothes you.  It’s such a contrast to how you’re certain you’ll be touched as soon as you leave these chambers that you tremble at her fingertips.

“It’ll be alright,” she says softly.  “You and the union between the Houses is too important for him to seriously hurt you.”  You don’t miss the disclaimer of ‘seriously’.  You have nothing to say to that, only watching as she sets the gown back on the mannequin it arrived with and turns to you, in just your boots and undergarments.  

You sigh and take care of your boots and the stockings underneath as Idrisa reaches into your drawers for a chemise and robe.

“He wants you to take off your undergarments,” she says over her shoulder.

“Of course he does,” you mutter, working on those next, stripping down bare.  “For ‘ease of access.’”

“It’s not an unreasonable request,” Idrisa says mildly, taking your discarded clothes and handing you the chemise to put on.  “We’re almost done.”  She sets down a pair of slippers for you to step into and gives you your robe before taking a step back and taking inventory of you.  She tilts her head and bites her lip.

“Hair down, I think,” she says.  “Your make-up held up well, so we won’t need to reapply anything.”

“We could, you know.”  It’ll buy me some time to collect myself.  Although that isn’t entirely true; you’ll still be just as nervous an hour from now as you will be five minutes from now, and you both know it as Idrisa quietly arranges your hair into a style she thinks your groom will find suitable.

His chambers, as it turns out, are just next door.  “Thank you,” you tell her when you get inside.  It’s a large room, as austere as all the other rooms but the limited furniture within it is of high-quality.  A black armoire against the opposite wall with dressers and a desk and chair to match, and then of course the bed.  

It’s a massive four-poster with a steep headboard.  You can’t help but notice rings and hooks lining each bedpost.  You don’t think you’re ignorant by any means, considering your overall lack of experience, but you’re not sure what they could possibly mean.  In the next room you can faintly hear the sound of running water.

“The Na-Baron is finishing up in his bathroom.  He’ll be ready for you in just a moment,” Idrisa tells you, before reaching for your robe.  You instinctively move away, wanting the barrier between your skin and the suddenly oppressive air of an unfamiliar room.

She holds on, undeterred, to your sleeves.  “The Na-Baron said that he would have his wedding gift already unwrapped and in bed waiting for him,” she says apologetically.  

You think of your father’s words from days ago (“oiled and trussed up before being thrown into his bedroom”) and take a breath before shedding the robe and stepping out of your slippers yourself. You don’t look at Idrisa as you raise the chemise up and over your shoulders before tossing it to the floor and once you’re completely bare try to cover yourself with your arms as you take a few steps back.  It feels dumb; she’s already seen you naked and so will the man on the other side of the bathroom door in just a minute, but you want to hold on some semblance of modesty in this unfamiliar room.

Idrisa looks away as she picks everything up.  “I’ll leave you to your privacy, then,” she says.  

“I’ll be nearby,” she adds, folding your clothes and setting them on the dresser and the slippers on the floor just beside it.  She glances over at you one last time as if to say, Good luck, before turning and leaving.  The door clicks and you’re left in silence.  The water stops.

Better get moving, then, you think as you stare at the bed.  You wonder briefly what such an intimidating piece of furniture has seen over the years, and you’re honestly not sure how to present yourself once you reach it.  Do you lie on your back, like you’ve been told, is the civilized, kind manner in which to take a bride?

You think of the way your groom prowls, the way he kills.  He’s barely civilized and he’s certainly not kind; the animalistic way he moves and looks at you suggests that he’ll fuck you like an animal too, on all fours and without preamble, but the idea of getting into that position, of presenting yourself to him in such a way, makes you wince the moment you imagine it.

So you compromise and settle on your side, facing the bathroom entrance where he’ll soon emerge.

Your heart races as nearly a full minute ticks by before the door opens and Feyd-Rautha emerges, as naked as you are.

You try to stay composed and keep a sense of demure composure about you as you take inventory of him and what is meant to go inside of you tonight.  He is indeed smooth everywhere, and half-hard.  You digest the fact that even without a full erection, he's larger than the limited sample size you've witnessed.  You think that it’s kind of funny that he looks more powerful naked than he does in his armor, or even in his undergarments but to your relief he’s also as unarmed as he can possibly be.  And if this is to happen, it is a comfort knowing that it will be with a man whose body you find beautiful to look at.

His eyes drift over yours, mapping everything as he takes his fill,of the rest of your body.  “Have you ever taken a man inside of you?” he asks.

You shake your head and try not to let your nerves get the better of you as you wonder how much this is going to hurt.  He sees the fear in your eyes, though, as he crosses over and slides into bed alongside you without another word.  Your breath hitches, your heart pounding.  Not for the first time he makes you feel like a rabbit in a field.  It’s hard to reconcile that and the excitement within you; perhaps it’s adrenaline.

He slowly angles you to lay back as he props himself above you.  Your pulse thuds in your ears and you hear your own gasp as if it’s coming from somewhere else.

There’s a moment he’s looming above you, and you’re caught between fear and a growing heat between your legs, your nerves on end, before you surprise the both of you.  Without allowing yourself to think about it you lean up, cup the back of his head and pull him into a kiss.  This much you’ve done before, anyway.  You hope that it’ll help ease you into everything else.

It catches him off-guard, which gives you a brief sense of satisfaction, feeling like the playing field has been leveraged, before he kisses back.  He seems to like it, the hint of a challenge, and responds in turn by deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue into your mouth.  After a moment’s hesitation, unsure where to put your hands, you find that trailing them along his arms and back feels right.  

For the first minute it actually feels nice.  Then the first brush of the tip of his cock against your stomach makes you gasp.  You can feel him filling out the rest of the way and try not to look down.  It won’t help settle your nerves at all to see just how large it is when fully engorged.  The soft skin of it bumps against your bare stomach again before he shifts his legs so both are between yours, forcing you to spread your thighs around his hips.  He breaks the kiss and watches your face as he shifts one hand from beside your head to between his legs, taking himself in hand.

You clench your thighs and gasp, heart racing.  Without thinking you give a small cry when he guides his cock along your slit.  You feel stupid for it; he’s not even inside of you yet, but you can feel yourself seize up.

He pauses, as if trying to gauge something. Then he releases himself to slide his fingertips between the apex of your thighs instead.  Your chest heaves as you think about how you’re the only one who’s ever put a hand there, and even then only a few times.  You have enough time to think that you’ve never felt more helpless in your life before he brushes his fingers along your slit, all the more sensitive for the lack of hair, and then brings a thumb to the bud between your legs you only discovered for the first time a few years ago by accident.  He circles his thumb lazily, watching your stomach clench and your lips part in a gasp.  You shut your eyes, the intimacy of it already more than you could’ve anticipated.

“Look at me,” he says sharply, and you force your eyes open.  He tilts his head ever so slightly as his thumb presses down and your hips arch up.  You hold onto him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you bite your lip, trying to breathe normally.  He blinks as he takes in your reaction, his gaze traveling from your face to your hips before moving his hand, shifting his fingertips to your entrance.

The press of one finger inside of you is a stretch, unfamiliar but not unpleasant once you adjust to the feeling of being penetrated for the first time, and you want to look away, embarrassed at just how exposed you are to this man but as soon as you do, he repeats, irritated that he’d have to say it again, “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap back to his.  He curls his finger inside of you and your mouth falls open in a silent cry, your stomach clenching, and he tilts his head slightly, pulling his hand back to add a second finger alongside it, and this time the burn of it’s just a little too much.  You try to pull your hips back, face pinched in discomfort, and he gives a frustrated exhale as he tries twisting his fingers, only to get the same reaction.  He pulls his fingers out, and seems to think about what to do next.

He glances down at your chest, at your stiffened nipples, and lowers himself down onto his forearms, his head down to your breasts, teeth and tongue scraping against one, then the other.  As you whine and cradle the back of his neck you wonder if this is like a game for him, trying to see what noises he can pull from you where, and doing what, as he travels from one part of your body to another.  You try to collect your breath as he stops, traveling lower, his body sliding almost serpentine along the length of the bed and you can’t help but watch the muscles in his back and shoulders.

You briefly notice that there are old scars there that you hadn’t been able to see properly in the semi-darkness of the fighting halls.  They look like lash-marks that span from his shoulder blades to the tops of his buttocks.  But that’s the last coherent thought you have before Feyd-Rautha’s face disappears between your spread legs and you cry out, back arching at the first contact between his mouth and your lower lips.

You were expecting and fearing a lot tonight but hadn’t accounted for your groom licking your newly-shaved privates.  It’s shocking enough that it takes you a moment to understand how nice it feels.  You pant and squirm, your moans pulled out of you with each swipe of his tongue along your slit, each flicker of it against your bud.

“Oh!” you manage, incapable of saying anything else as your thighs shake and you wish he had hair that you could bury your fingers in as he laps at you.

When the heat of it really starts to build and your whines start sounding more desperate, the very core of you slick along his lips and tongue is when he stops.  It’s all a means to an end and as far as he’s concerned he’s done more than enough to prepare you. 

He ignores your whimper of protest as he pulls away and props himself up above you again, taking inventory of your flushed face and chest, your parted and kiss-swollen lips.

Good, you’re ready, he seems to think.  He lines himself up, and your breath hitches as you shut your eyes.

“Keep ‘em open,” he says immediately, and you relent, gazing up at a pair of eyes that glint nearly silver, pupils wide.

The blunt head of him is wide, and you realize that the preparation, his fingers and tongue, weren’t enough to ease the passage.  He’ll tear you open.  He watches your face and the growing panic in your eyes and presses forward.

Fear is the mind-killer.  It is the little–

The first press of him knocks the air out of your lungs in a sob.  You lurch up, clutching at his back as your inner thighs clench around his sides as he thrusts in the first couple of inches.  You squirm around him, shifting, hoping to get unstuck like you’re a worm on a hook.  He just pushes in deeper with a grunt, his hand clutching your hip to keep you still so he can bury himself within you the rest of the way.

It hurts, you want to protest, as if he can’t tell already.  As if he doesn’t enjoy how he’s skewering you onto him.

You’ve been in worse pain than this.  Remember when you broke your arm when you were nine?  If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve never felt more vulnerable in your life to the most frightening man you’ve ever met who–you hope–is now fully inside of you, you’d almost laugh.

Virgin sex: not as painful as breaking an arm.

You dig your nails in.  Feyd-Rautha gives a breathless laugh and a sharp thrust that has you crying out and digging your nails in deeper.

“Does my little pet want to get her claws in me?” he says, the first time he’s spoken in several minutes.  You try to relax your hands, just gripping onto his back.  “I didn’t say ‘stop,’” he adds.

He likes pain, the Reverend Mother told you.

Well, alright, then.

You grit your teeth and scratch down the length of his back.  He groans, a rumble deep in his chest before pulling out nearly to the tip of him and pushing all the way back in again.  It helps, in a way, the feeling of reciprocating the pain.  The difference is that you’re barely tolerating it, but he’s enjoying it.  He seems to like the pressure of your kneecaps digging into his sides, the nails down his back.

Curiosity strikes and you reach up and pull him down close enough to bite down on his collarbone and he gasps, hips stuttering for a moment, a moan pulled out of him before he resumes thrusting into you with deeper rolls of his hips.

You’re not sure when the moment happens that you start to adjust, the sting of it fading to a sore stretch.  You still feel impossibly full, but the ache of it feels like a minor tear, not like you’ve just been split in half.  

It’s soon after that he draws the first real moan out of you since before he entered you and it gives you pause; the stroke of his hips had been just right, you’d tilted yours in just a way that actually felt good in a way that tugged at your insides.  After a moment he tries again and you can’t help but make the same noise, holding onto him as the push and pull of his thrusts finally starts to feel right, like an act that’s natural rather than a punishment.

It’s then that he pulls out, and you yelp in shock; you were only starting to get adjusted to having him inside of you and he hasn’t spilled his seed yet.  You barely have time to understand what’s happening as he flips you onto your front and hauls you up, grabbing your hips.

It feels like another invasion, the angle tighter.  You won’t be able to hold onto him or take your pain out on him.  You scramble to get your forearms under you as he well and truly starts fucking you.  You hadn’t realized that he’d been holding back at all.

You do realize, though, that he not only tolerates your hair but likes it, when he wraps your tresses around his hand and sharply tugs like your hair’s a harness.  You can’t help any of the desperate noises that you make, shaking, as you’re repeatedly pulled back onto his cock.  The heat of tears builds in your eyes as you lower your head, only for him to tug it back by your hair. 

You give another cry, which spurs him on.  Pleasure, pain, it seems like it’s all the same to him so long as he can keep pulling desperate sounds out of you.  He speeds up, goes harder, the snap of his hips against your ass loud to the point of obscene within the echoes of his room.

And then you feel it, warm and viscous inside of you as he gives a choked moan, grunting as he thrusts into you one last time and holds still, his hands still on your hips.  You gasp, freezing, before moaning even though you're not entirely sure if you like the sensation of it or not.

You feel him pull away from you and twist onto your back, your legs bent to avoid colliding with him, as he kneels on the edge of the bed and wipes his bloody cock off on the sheets.

You catch your breath as you bring a hand against your forehead, trying to think.

It’s done; you got through it. 

He turns to look at you, at your parted lips, your breasts rising and falling as your breath evens out, your inner thighs where a small smear of blood remains, and wordlessly brings a thumb to the tacky skin there.

You blink, eyes widening as he looks you in the eye and licks off the already-drying blood.  He tilts his head, still looking between your legs, when his fingertips slide against your slit, collecting both a little blood and a dribble of his seed that leaked out of you.  Without a word he settles back over you and brings his fingers to your lips.

You try to think about what he’d want from you at this moment, and all that comes to mind is to mirror him.  You try to shut out the part of you that feels revulsion at the sight and the smell and part your lips.  

You can’t look away from him as he presses the calloused pad of his thumb on your lips and pushes further, onto your tongue.  You want to flinch away at the salt of your blood mixed with the viscous salt of his seed, but with his other hand he cups your jaw.  His movements could be seen as gentle and if he were a different man this act could be seen as intimate, but no, not with him.  He’s trying to humiliate you, you’re sure.  Because he then says, quietly, “Close your mouth,” and you hesitate, face heating up with shame, before you do.

For a moment you want to pull back and spit the mixture back out into his face.  There must be a flicker of that want in your eye because he tilts his head in a silent challenge.

Go on.  Try it, he seems to say.

You want to, but you do the opposite, the new goal to be to catch him off-guard again.  You force yourself to taste the residue from both of your bodies off his fingers.  You lick delicately around the digits and watch his eyes widen just a fraction.  You do it again, slowly, realizing that you’ve surprised him again.

He pulls his fingers out, his full lips parted.

“Don’t swallow,” is all he says before crushing his mouth against yours. 

You didn’t think you were ignorant, but you don’t fully understand what this is, what it’s called, why he’s enjoying it so much.  It’s a tool you think you might have but don’t have any frame of reference for and aren’t sure how to use as he groans as the liquids merge between you in a desperate open-mouthed kiss.  You just know that you’re learning enough to keep him interested.  He lays fully against you, and you have enough time to think that his chest feels nice pressed up against yours before he reaches in between your legs to feel the puffy, bruised apex where he’d buried himself.

Is he already getting aroused again?  

You get your answer when he flips you onto your stomach for the second time and pulls your hips up just enough for him to settle behind you.  For a moment you lurch forward, away from his grip but of course he pulls you back.  Alarm sets in.  I need time.  I’m still recovering from the first time you split me open.  You hear yourself whine as he slides his rapidly-stiffening cock in between your tender folds as if to plead for his mercy.  He doesn’t grant it, moaning at the desperate sound.  You realize that he’s working himself the rest of the way in his own hand before pressing it back up against you and pushing inside of you in one sharp thrust.

In some ways it’s easier; you’re sufficiently stretched out at this point to take him inside of you, and the combination of blood and semen’s added second and third coats of lubrication.

But then he’s rougher; there’s no preamble, no brief moments of letting you adjust to the intrusion.  He goes hard and fast on your torn and bruised insides, and this time he doesn’t say a word.  All you hear are beast-like grunts as he pulls you onto him.

Just finish.  Please just finish and get it over with, you think as your cries become hoarse, and then nothing more than pathetic whimpers.  That in itself seems to spur him on, how much he’s wearing you out and taking you to the very limits of what you can handle. 

You collapse the rest of the way onto your front, panting and sweaty, and you shut your eyes when you can sense he’s almost done, shuddering as his thrusts become more erratic and he finally–thankfully–comes, filling you up a second time and you could cry with the relief of it.

He holds on for a moment, as if trying to make sure as much of him as possible stays inside of you as he settles down, his front against your back, his breath against the nape of your neck.  And then he pulls out and you wonder if this is how it feels when a person who’s just been stabbed feels the knife leave their body right before you sense him turn and fall onto his back against the sheets.

You remain on your front,  the side of your face resting on your forearm as you just don’t have it in you to move again.  You just hope that Feyd-Rautha’s finally done for the night.  You turn your head to the other side to look at him and confirm.

His penis looks a lot less intimidating when it’s soft and resting against his thigh.  You watch his chest rise and fall and briefly think about running a hand over it, and long the ridges of his abdomen even as you can’t say you’re proud of yourself for the instinct.  He just seems almost docile now, reclining on his back, after he’s rutted inside of you twice. It's almost like wanting to pet a sedated dog that had been trying to bite you.  You watch him raise one leg slightly, enough to bend his knee, and you notice more scars along his inner thigh that are even paler than the rest of him.  They don’t look recent, but not as old as the ones on his back.

He turns his head and looks at you, and reaches out, bringing a hand to your backside, lazily caressing a cheek before bringing his palm down in a hard smack.  He smirks at how the soft flesh jiggles and at your responding yelp.

“It was right there,” he says by way of explanation.  You’re tired enough that you can’t help but snicker as you keep your head pillowed on your forearms and try to focus on the softness of the sheets under you rather than the unrelenting ache between your legs.  You look at each other, him likely surveying the damage as you catalog him in what is probably the closest he ever gets to a relaxed state.

“Can you stand?” Feyd-Rautha asks after a moment.

You’re not entirely sure you can move your legs.  “In a moment, maybe,” you admit.

“Then take a moment,” he says.  “Then you can call your girl to take you back to your quarters.”

You get up on your forearms to get a better look at him.  “You’re sending me away?” you ask.  You don’t mean the hurt tone in your voice.  Not that you even want to stay the night, but his dismissal feels insulting.  You’re the one whose insides are sore and bleeding, after all.  Is he not even going to give you more time to recover and just relax here?  Maybe kiss you one last time?  

“It’s more practical if I do,” he says.  “I’ll be up a few hours before you tomorrow.”  His tone is so matter-of-fact that any trace of intimacy over the past couple of minutes dissipates into thin air and you remember who you’re with.

“Right.”  You look over at your clothes on the dresser.  You wince at the effort, but turn to your side and sit up facing away from him.  You can feel his stare burning into your back.

You wince as you sit forward and try to get your limbs to coordinate with you as you shift your legs.

You look down at the sheets and wonder if Feyd-Rautha’s going to have someone come in to clean them immediately after you leave.

No, you realize.  He’ll have someone come in to put down new ones, certainly, but he’ll be holding on to the bloodied sheets.  They’ll serve as a trophy, proof that he deflowered the heiress to the House of Y/H.

You don’t look back at your new husband as you get up, shakily at first, needing to hold onto the bed to stabilize you.

You need to walk gingerly, and the feel of Feyd-Rautha watching your discomfort makes it worse.  You feel tears build again, this time from anger.  You think to yourself that you might’ve been able to handle everything else tonight better if he were a little kinder to you afterwards, and gave you something to temper the roughness as he’d prepared you beforehand.  And here he is smugly watching the pain you’re in because of him, congratulating himself on how he wrecked your virgin cunt.

This is fucking undignified.  I’m part of a Major House, too, you think as you pull on your chemise and step into your slippers.  Finally you’ve decided that you’re not going to let this insult pass and turn to him.  He’s sitting up, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped loosely around them as he watches you and that somehow makes it even worse.  “Is this amusing for you?” you demand, thinking, Of course it is, you stupid girl.  He and his kind get off on this sort of thing.

He looks neither embarrassed nor smug, but leans forward a little as he considers you.  “You did well tonight,” he says. 

“Thank you, Na-Baron,” you say coldly as you reach for your robe.  

“I like it when you call me husband,” he adds, and you glance back at him.  “That’s what you should call me when we’re alone together.”

You look at him a moment longer.  You realize that this is just about the closest he can get to being kind to you, at least tonight.  Whatever tenderness he’d shown when he first touched you was to serve his own purpose.  Now that he’s taken what he wants there’s nothing else to give you.  It’s not even intentional cruelty on his part, you don’t think.  It’s just the absence of everything else.

With a resigned sigh you pull on your robe and give him a curt nod.  “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, husband,” you tell him, pad over to the door, and open it just far enough to see Idrisa standing post just outside.  You head into the hallway and shut the door behind you without another word or glance backwards.

“How much of that were you able to hear?” you ask her.  

She tries to spare you.  “The walls are thick, Na-Baroness,” she says, and you’re even more grateful for the short distance to your chambers than you’d been before.

At your bedside you notice that there’s a jug of water and a glass, then beside them a dish.  You head for it to inspect closer and it turns out there are two small white tablets.  You turn to look at her.

Idrisa shrugs one shoulder.  “Part of the benefits of being promoted to your attendant,” she says.  “I felt it would be safer to take precautions and assume you’d need pain relief after…” she trails off, realizing there is no polite way to say getting fucked hard for the first time by a man who delights in your pain and just repeats, “after.  I spoke with a Healer who agreed that it would be safer to plan for that.”

As you reach for a tablet she adds quickly, “I wouldn’t take more than half if I were you.”

You pause, the tablet to your mouth.  “Why?” you ask.

She hesitates.  “I wasn’t sure how severe your pain would be afterwards,” she says.  “I really didn’t know how to predict so I requested two tablets.  Looking at you now, half a tablet should suffice.”

You look down at the dish and then back at her.  Just how badly did you think tonight would go for me? you want to ask, but then realize that there are some questions you don’t actually want answers to.  

You smile at her in gratitude, snap the tablet in half, and wash it down with the offered water.  “Will it help me sleep?” you ask.

She inclines her head in the affirmative.  “Now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” she says.  

“It’s alright.  I can handle the rest myself,” you tell her.

Her brow furrows and she frowns.  “It’s my duty to look after you,” she says.  

“I understand, but right now I need to be alone,” you tell her.

She looks nervous, as if her dismissal is some kind of failure on her part and something for which she’ll be punished later.

“You’ve done a great job,” you tell her.  “But the best way to take care of me tonight is to let me do this myself.”

“Whatever you wish, Na-Baroness,” she says finally.  “Good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

……………..

You pad over to the bathroom and a minute later find yourself sitting on the edge of your bathtub with a warm, wet towel in one hand as you inch up the hem of your chemise with the other.  

You wince at the first press of the towel against your tender skin.  You don’t want to look directly at the damage, wishing you still had hair down there to obscure some of it.  You shut your eyes as you wipe around your inner thighs.  You wipe directly between your legs and the sharp bite of the pain makes you briefly double over.  After a moment you look down at the used towel; there’s not as much blood as you thought, as it feels like it was spilled out of you, but you’re going to have to wring it out and start over if you want to feel clean.  Maybe you won’t feel clean again.

The reality of it all hits you, sharply, and you feel like you’ve been stabbed and a part of you realizes that the worst is yet to come.

For the first time since finding out you would be linked to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, you break down and cry.

[merakiui]

Tell us more about Dr. Riddle and his captive pregnant wifey please!! Omg

Riddle has this delusion that you’re incapable of taking care of yourself without his aid. After all, he’s the licensed professional. He knows your body more than you do—at least on a professional level. He keeps you chained and collared to a metal support beam in the basement, and there’s a fluffy mattress for a bed. He feels immensely bad for subjecting you to these conditions, but the last time he thought he could trust you enough to bring you upstairs you nearly ran away. So for now you’re given fluffy sheets and pillows in hopes that it’ll provide enough comfort and soften you to this situation. Riddle doesn’t want to hurt you, but he has no choice sometimes, especially when you try to escape.

Still, it’s in a doctor’s nature to be patient and so he remains calm when interacting with you, even when you yell and struggle and kick. Sometimes he snaps at you, but for the most part he’s always sweet. Always smiling so adoringly at you, even when you’re crouched and shivering, too fearful to do anything but nod. You pick at your meals and he tries so hard to get you to eat everything on your plate. You need the energy. Don’t starve yourself; he won’t allow it. He sits in front of you and tries to start conversations as if everything is completely normal.

Inevitably, you’ll get pregnant. He wants a lot from you, and there’s no chance you’ll ever escape him. You’re trapped here; you have no say in the matter. Riddle keeps you just weak enough so you won’t feel compelled to squirm or hit him when he’s near you. It’s medicine, he claims, but you never know where medicine starts and when magic fades away. You have no clue if any of this is even a spell or the result of some prescription he thinks you need. During copulation, you feel so foggy and distant, as if you’re wading through a sea of smoke. Shamefully enough, you hate that it feels good. You hate that you cling to him when he’s making love to you, and it’s always so telling when you soak through the sheets with your slick arousal. How can you not when he’s whispering the sweetest things—things no one has ever told you before?

He’s even more of a controlling mess when you start getting symptoms, even more so when you start showing. He treats you as if you’re glass. Everything must be perfect; he can’t lose the baby. He can’t lose you. He drives himself half-mad ensuring you’re content and healthy, but with each passing month you only grow more hormonal. You’re so protective of the baby. Every time he attempts to get close to you, you curl in on yourself and hide your belly with the duvet or your arms. Riddle understands the bond between mother and child is a special, sacred thing, but please let him take your temperature, let him rub the oil on your belly, let him help you to the bathroom. You’re so stubborn, but he remains patient, scarily so.

Your wardrobe changes with each trimester. By the final few months, you’re swathed in soft, flowing, easy-to-remove nightgowns. Riddle seems to fall for you even more, if such a feat was possible. He loves you in spite of all the heartache you cause when you hide from him, protect your baby bump from him, insist you can do everything yourself. In between all of that, though, you struggle with your pregnancy libido. Grinding into your hand isn’t nearly as fulfilling as real, raw sex with Riddle. He smiles at you as he watches you try and fail to work yourself towards orgasm. Let him help; he knows you need him. You just refuse to recognize this yet and that’s okay. Your doctor always knows best, after all. He only wants to help you as a doctor (and lover) should.

Your child is raised in captivity. She’s a sweet thing, rosy-red hair like Riddle. But she has your eyes and so she’s the most precious treasure in your world. You love her to pieces in spite of everything. At first you refused to give her a name, as naming anything leads to inevitable affection, and you almost didn’t want to love her. But she deserves to be loved; it’s not her fault. You try to raise her, but it’s tiring with Riddle’s constant control. He never raises his voice at either of you, though, even when he’s frustrated. For that, you’re relieved. It’s exhausting to be a mother, but you’re determined to be the best mother for your little girl.

You hope to escape someday with your child in tow, but Riddle always has so many elaborate plans. He’s so organized when he pens all of the future goals he has for you and your child to be a good, happy family. And if you start to get just a little too smart and cunning for his liking, some medicine will provide an easy fix. That, or another pregnancy. Doctor’s orders. :)

[hollowsart]

Peter Parker's great struggle in his life is mostly the death of his uncle. that's technically the catalyst to his whole thing of becoming Spider-Man the superhero. We all know how this goes and plays out.

Gwen's great struggle in her life is the death of her best friend, Peter Parker, and less-so the fact her father is deeply against her. The loss of Peter affected her greatly and is a major driving point for her and her overall motivations afterwards and how she acts and reacts to things.

Mile's great struggle is similar to Gwen's in that it's the death of Peter Parker. but unlike Gwen's. Peter WAS Spider-Man before Miles. Miles felt like he could have saved him if he wasn't running away from the "responsibility" his powers gave him apparently. (comics he didn't make it there in time at all to do anything, while in the movie, he was too afraid although he did have the opportunity to intervene. he didn't take it, he ran away scared and filled with regret.)

Acedia, similar to Spider-Punk, doesn't have a great struggle that deals with loss. But unlike Spider-Punk whose struggle is with his entire world being fascist America run by President Norman Osborn, Acedia's struggle is within herself.

(cut for length)

it's a personal struggle. Anxiety, Social Anxiety specifically, can feel like a suffocating claustrophobic glass prison placed in front of a crowd of millions with a blinding spotlight constantly bearing down with a crushing intensity.

this struggle is both what makes her HER and is what also affects her life and her actions greatly. without it, she wouldn't be herself. She'd be like everyone else. she'd lose her character and uniqueness. Without her anxiety revolving around social interactions, with 1 more more people, she would just be.. boring.

There's nothing else there for her to have any real interest or conflict. She'd be like a Spider-Man variant whose uncle or parents never died. like a Batman whose parents are still alive and healthy and he's mentally and emotionally stable. a Superman whose home planet never exploded and he never went to Earth (ok wait that actually sounds interesting--).

Acedia's struggles with anxiety is literally her driving point. She does everything she does because of her anxiety and tries to work around it in some way to the best of her abilities. She struggles a lot in her own ways.

She was anxious when she rescued Otto. Anxious when he escaped the hospital. When she was being chased by Otto. When she confronted Mysterio for the first time.. and several times thereafter before feelings started to bloom. She was anxious when she had to try to figure out what to do when dealing with Electra. Anxious when she encountered Curt in the sewers after his unintended transformation.

And so many more instances than just those alone.

Only time she wasn't was when she was bit by the spider that hitched a ride in her bag from her visit to the lab. She was fine when she went to the lab, aside from the arachnid section of the tour. Fine when she got home. and fine when her powers started to show. She was excited and amazed about the powers, finding it fascinating and kind of fun. Learning how they work and what she can do.

She stopped being anxious with Otto after their first confrontation at Oscorp. She stopped being anxious with Mysterio after he waned off using his fear inducers in their subsequent encounters. She stopped being anxious with Vulture after she visited him after their first confrontation at Oscorp after Otto's incident.

Anxiety plays a huge part in Acedia's life. it's in the background, always present, but never the main focal point of the story.. it's still a major "character" in her overall story and life. It is a major controlling factor in her behavior, way she thinks, way she feels, way she acts and reacts.

[drgarrisonandpaul]

The Sternritter Kitchen

The thing that has been in my brain for a while

Quilge - He doesn't like bringing drinks to his room because he has a paranoid fear of spilling, so you can see him hanging out for like 2 hours in the morning while he drinks his coffee. Probably sitting cross-legged at the table

Askin - He also sits around while he drinks his coffee, except the coffee is an excuse to sit around and listen to all the gossip and drama. Also he has, like, 2 cups a day, one in morning and the other in the afternoon. If you catch him cooking anything, stick around, it's gonna be bougie and its gonna have some kind of cheese sauce

Mask - He pops in to make himself a sandwich then fucks back off to his personal gym (or the Sternritter theater) to watch movies and hang out with James. The big boy does interact with the other Sternritters, and he does appreciate their company, but James is his number 1 priority. ...unless there's a fight going on, then he's gonna stay and watch

Nanana - This man savors his food and refuses to take it into his room, so he will very much be sitting around relaxing during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sure, he's into the gossip, but he moreso loves the SMELL of the kitchen. Especially when Askin is cooking

Uryu - ... there's a kitchen?

Giselle - As previously mentioned, she likes to sit in the kitchen and threaten people with her Funko Pops, however she will also pretend that the Funko Pops are the ones cooking if she decides to make anything and will, in fact, blame them if it doesn't come out great. She's a surprisingly good baker and likes making grape-flavored things

Meninas - Why would she waste her time with the kitchen when she can be off petting the Sternritter cats or dunking on people in CoD?

Candice - Can be found scowling while making herself protein shakes at various times throughout the day while trying to be healthy and can be found eating Giselle's baked goods at night because they're too good to pass up

Liltotto - Leans on the wall in the hall just outside of the kitchen to catch the gossip as it leaves. If Askin is cooking, he'll sometimes just kinda- hold the spoon in the air beside himself and wait for her mouth to come stretchin in to taste what he's making, at which point you'll hear, from just outside the kitchen "tastes nice. needs more pepper-"

Gremmy - Banned from the kitchen because he tried being "creative" and made mustard gas

Äs Nödt - Slips out of his room solely for Askin's cooking (or sometimes to steal sandwich ingredients from Mask) like a little mouse, then promptly goes back to his room

Jugram - Though it was his money that decorated and remodeled the kitchen in the first place, he is banned from it because he "ruins the vibe" as Quilge and Bazz-B put it

Ryūken - ... there's a kitchen? Pt. 2

Bazz-B - He makes Oatmeal Raisin cookies and they are the only good Oatmeal Raisin cookies in the world. Other than that? He's probably eating someone else's leftovers, especially if he knows that they were looking forward to said leftovers

Bambietta - Is the reason that the kitchen had to be remodeled. Isn't banned because she's the one who cooks when Askin doesn't feel like it. If something she's making has chicken in it? You BEST BELIEVE it's gonna be bangin. And Mask and James are first in line at her BBQs

Yhwach - Banned from the kitchen for ruining the vibe. Before he was banned, he hyped everyone up for his "famous lasagna recipe" and it was the worst lasagna the kitchen has ever seen. Being forced to eat it just to make him happy was an unpleasant experience and the whole ordeal is probably the REAL reason he was banned

Robert Accutrone - He is the reason there is a whole cabinet JUST for cereal. Rob is a cereal fiend, if he can get his hands on it, it's gone. Especially if it's somethin fruity like Froot Loops, Apple Jacks, etc.

BG9 - Doesn't eat. Doesn't need to be in the kitchen. Visits once every few days to listen in on the new drama. There is a picture somewhere in the kitchen of him making breakfast for everyone with a whisk taped to one of his wrists for "maximum efficiency" (he makes amazing omelets)

Cang Du - He doesn't care who's cooking, it's all the same to him, he's gonna swoop in to steal a plate and then go back to the definitely serious business he was doing no matter what it is, who made it, or what time of day it is. The only time he didn't steal a plate of something was during the "Yhwach's Lasagna" fiasco and everyone has been accusing him of being a double-agent ever since because HOW DID HE KNOW?! (because he could smell its failure from a mile away)

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Mtmte whirl and his scraplet daughter whirl jr. meet TFP!teamprime

While initially wary of this stranger, Optimus quickly grows to trust Whirl when he sees him interact with his daughter. For all of his sharp edges and crude words, Whirl loves his daughter and cares for her and with these actions Optimus can tell that he’s a kind spark deep down. He treats Whirl with kindess and respect and Whirl Jr. like she’s his own niece.

Upon learning of Whirl Jr’s. scraplet nature, Optimus finds himself not caring too much about it. While scraplets are terrifying litte things in their world, Junior has never harmed anyone on team Prime and as such he does not fear her. More than that, the fact that Whirl does not care about this either and still treats her like the child he is only further proves to Optimus that he’s a good mech.

Ratchet does not like Whirl. Simple as that. He’s loud, agitating and won’t stop messing around in his medbay! Most of the time, Ratchet will react to him with grumbles or the occasional snarky comment, but despite this he will never hesitate to provide medical aid to Whirl or his daughter. In fact, Whirl Jr. might be the only reason as to why Ratchet hasn’t wielded Whirl to the ceiling yet. Despite all his flaws, he’s obviously a great caretaker (something which pains Ratchet to admit it) and he would never do anything to put his kid in harm’s way. Too bad he had to choose such an atrocious name.

Sometimes, Whirl and Ratchet will actually manage to have a serious, civil conversation. This only happens when it’s just the two of them and usually in the dead of night but during these talks Ratchet gains a better understanding of who Whirl is and more importantly; WHY he’s like this. And Ratchet gets to vent, gets to complain and talk about his worries and fears in a way he can’t with the rest of his team. They never bring these talks up later but it means a lot to both of them.

As for Whirl Jr. herself, Ratchet finds a sort of comfort in seeing such a young cybertronian healthy and happy. Most of their kind died in the war and too see a youngling sparks some hope in him that they might have some future once the war has ended. SUPER SHOCKED to find out that Whirl Jr. is a scraplet and while at first he reacts with outrage at the fact that Whirl brought with him a whole colony of scraplets to the base he eventually calms down and decides to accept Whirl Jr. for who she is. She’s obviously a good kid and despite it all, a true cybertronian.

Still fairly young himself, Bumblebee is super excited to meet Whirl Jr.. Only reason he keeps any semblance of distance is because Whirl won’t stop snapping his claws at him when he gets too close. But eventually Bee wears him down and Whirl allows him to get closer and oh, look how cute she is! Can she transform yet? Does she like to race? Does she know any words? Bumblebee quickly worms himself into Whirl’s spark and soon becomes the number 1 babysitter for when Whirl either needs some alone time or has to go kick some decepticon butt.

Bumblebee thinks Whirl is pretty neat. Yeah, he doesn’t always say the nicest things but it’s hard to keep up this facade of being an uncaring jerk when you can’t go five minutes without acting silly to make your kid laugh. He’s just a guy that’s gotten hurt one too many times and Bumblebee can relate to that. It’s mainly because of this that he doesn’t panic when Whirl Jr. is revealed to be a sentient colony of scraplets. He trusts Whirl and Whirl Jr..

Whirl Jr. is small and fragile. Bulkhead is big and clumsy. Those are two not too great combinations. Listen, he digs the kid, he really does, but he can barely keep up with Miko and the other human kids and that’s only because they can run out of harms way if anything happens. Sparklings? They can’t do that. Still, he’s got no problem with her being on base and will casually look out for her to make sure she doesn’t get in any trouble.

When he learns that Whirl was a Wrecker back in his own universe, Bulkhead thinks it only makes sense. At least in this universe the Wreckers had the habit of attracting the some of the most broken bots left in the wake of the war. And Whirl just so happens to fit the bill perfectly. Doesn’t exactly trust him but doesn’t dislike him either. One of the few that bites back when Whirl takes things too far and Whirl respects him for it.

Gets pretty freaked out when he learns that Whirl Jr. is... well, a whole bunch of scraplets. Nanite-sized, intelligent scraplets. That thought sends shivers down his spine. For a while he can’t help but look at her differently, as if waiting for her to suddenly start cannabilizing the entire team. This goes on until he sees her panic upon seeing Whirl seriously hurt after a major battle. At that point he realizes that this is just a regular kid. Starts treating her normally after this though he still makes a couple scraplet jokes that the throws at Whirl, who returns them with gusto.

Arcee can’t stand Whirl at first. He keeps riling her up, saying the most infuriating things seemingly just for shits and giggles and somehow he knows just how to push all her buttons (it’s because she reminds him of Cyclonus). But upon seeing more of Whirl she starts to respect him. His shitty attitude (her words) is a result of trauma and a coping mechanism to shield himself from further hurt and frag, she gets that. And he’s always ready to get in the line of fire if it means keeping the humans or Whirl Jr. out of danger which proves to Arcee that he’s not a complete jerk. Eventually they start to become friends and start trading exchanging some quippy banter and battle stories.

Just like Bulkhead, Arcee is not that keen on hanging around the sparkling. But in this case it’s mostly just because she has no idea how to take care of it. She wants to protect Whirl Jr. but keeping someone safe versus keeping someone happy are two separate things. When Whirl Jr’s. secret is revealed she is initially super pissed at Whirl for allowing such a dangerous thing to get close to the team. But this anger surprisingly doesn’t last very long as one look at Whirl Jr. makes Arcee remember that this supposedly ‘dangerous thing’ got scared by her own shadow. Yeah, ok, maybe she’s not that big of a threat.

[xxlea-nardoxx]

When thinking about the differences between the 12!Universes!Turtles and the Au Kids, it's not just the different worlds they grew up in or how they live their lives, it's also how each group of siblings were raised by their parents and how that affects them and their relationships with each other.

With such different characters it's clear not everything is sunshine and rainbows. These guys clash in certain points, it's unavoidable.

Disclaimer: This is NOT me shitting on the turtles or Splinter. Every single character has its flaws and I love the 2012-fam so much. This is just me rambling about my silly little au.

So let's get started, shall we?

In Universes we meet the 12-Universes!Turtles, who are essentially just the 12!Turtles with a few added headcanons to make them distinct from the canon ones, and the Au Kids, their very alike looking counterparts. They meet through an accident, when the au kids strand in the 2012!world and the Universes!Turtles take them in.

To start this off: We know how the 12!Turtles act in the show and how they interact with each other. The Universes!Turtles are no exception, minus a few little changes.

So they were single-handedly raised by Splinter, who himself comes from a rather interesting home. I've seen this in another post and it's completely true, that Splinter tends to parent his sons the way he was treated growing up. This family is definitely rather tough, but that's just how they know it. We know how they act in the show.

So even if his parenting is flawed on some edges, it's obvious that he still loves his sons as it has been made clear in the show numerous times. He tries his hardest, but just doesn't really seem to grasp how to help his sons with their issues sometimes, which doesn't mean he's not trying to help.

For 15 years they were cooped up in the lair together, with nothing but each other to keep them company. The turtles never met another person until they were finally able to leave at 15, so of course they're not truly capable of socialization. And Splinter himself doesn't seem to have the best people-skills either, so understandable.

It definitely got better as the show progressed and the turtles gathered more allies, but it's still obvious that some things got left behind in the process. Not surprising.

Now we have the Au Kids, who live in a completely different world. Anthros/Mutants are the norm there, co-exist with humans. Means the kids never had to hide themselves away in fear of not being accepted by society, since theirs is generally very open-minded. That doesn't mean that bad people don't exist, but that's a story for another day.

The kids were raised by their mother Malea, who adopted them when they were still too small to even have memories stick in their brains. Thus they do not have memories of their biological parents and only ever known Malea as their one and only parent.

Now Malea comes from a loving home. She's the only child of her parents and growing up she's had a healthy relationship with them, with of course the occasional arguements because they're just unavoidable. She's always wanted to do something with kids, become a caretaker of some kind, but when she later realized that she could be more than that, she strived to be exactly that. Coming from such a stable home, she still knew there were kids (way) less fortunate than her and wanted to become a foster parents to neclected, abused and orphaned kids.

During her career Malea took care of a lot of unfortunate kids, ranging from teens to literal babies. Now enter the Au Kids.

They were no different. Their biological parents neclected and abused them, but given the fact that they were just so little they have no recollection of any of that. All that they know, is based on what Malea told them and even she doesn't know all the details.

So ever since their memory truly set in, they only ever knew Malea and her parenting, her love and her way of showing affection. She doesn't like raising her voice at them if it isn't necessary, but will discipline them when she needs to, so her kids know when they overstepped bounderies and did something wrong. Growing up the kids learned how to voice their emotions to each other better, but of course that didn't stop them from getting into arguements or just not getting along well from time to time, because that's just how it is.

So with that in mind and the Au Kids crashlanding in the 2012!world, they obviously also notice the way the Universes!Turtles talk to each other and how they act. It's different from their own experiences and especially Mike and Don want to try and help. Now with Splinter being gone, there's another worry in their minds and nobody to help when conflicts arise. The Universes!Turtles have to do this themselves now, their father is no longer there to help.

So the youngest twins want to help diffuse the situations and help them make up, but since their approaches are different than what the Universes!Turtles are used to, they think it's silly or dumb, resulting in hurt feelings on both sides, because Don and Mike take such things seriously.

With time both sets of Turtles will get to know each other better, meaning they'll get used to the others takes and approaches and perhaps can help when the need arises. It all takes time.

Maybe the Universes!Turtles also realize things that are different in their counterparts. Things they wish they felt as well.

Raphie seems to be less impulsive and aggressive compared to his counterpart, because he found more healthy outputs and ways to deal with it than Raph does.

Don seems to be dealing with his insecurities and anxieties better than Donnie does, even liking his tooth gap and red eyes. He also doesn't feel insecure about his status of being a turtle, because in his world it is accepted. Don never had to worry about people hating him for being an anthro.

Lee doesn't seem to have so much pressure on himself from being "the oldest" because he and Raphie share that responsibility. They also don't have to be alert of enemies and fear of being killed by someone akin to Shredder.

Despite the way Malea raises her kids, she is not without flaws. Sometimes she thinks she might be too soft with her kids, or that she doesn't divide her attention equally. But one thing between Splinter and her is the same: They're both single parents to 4 rambuctious turtles. And both of them are dearly loved by their kids.

[shelbystales]

Best Aid - Part Six

Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Summary: you are a young doctor in Birmingham. After a crazy incident, Thomas Shelby shows up at your hospital. You don’t know much about the man everyone seems to fear, but you definitely will.

Warning: swearing, blood, mention of torture and abortion/misscariage. And overdose. Jesus, dark episode? haha

A/N:  Comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot.

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The room you were in now was five times larger than your entire apartment. Thomas's aunt's hotel was a thousand times more than you had expected. In your hotel "room," you had a kitchen, a dining room, a TV room, a massive bedroom, and an even bigger bathroom. It's practically a fully furnished luxury apartment with room service, which, according to him, is 100% complimentary for you. The hotel was a bit farther from the hospital, but it didn't make much of a difference.

You felt somewhat out of place, sitting on the light gray, probably more expensive than your car, plush sofa. "Please don't destroy anything," you whispered to Ozzy, who was nestled on your lap.

Why exactly you were here remained a mystery to you. Sure, there's all that "your life is in danger" stuff, but why are you here? Thomas brings everyone around him who's in danger to this hotel? Or were you an exception? And why would you be? Would it be too arrogant to think you were the only one he cared about to this extent? Why would you even want to think that?

In the past few days, you felt your world flip, everything turned upside down. You let your body sink deeply into the sofa, your head falling backward and resting on the soft cushions. Your eyes closed out of exhaustion from the days that had passed, the hours you couldn't sleep. Now, for some strange reason, you felt safe, and within seconds, you slept like you hadn't in days.

**

"Who is she exactly?" Polly asked Thomas as they sipped on whiskey in the hotel restaurant. The restaurant was bustling, guests enjoying their dinner to the soothing sounds of jazz, relishing the cuisine crafted by a Michelin-starred chef.

"The doctor. You know who she is, Pol," Thomas replied, grabbing a cigarette and sliding it to his lips. In a fluid motion, Polly plucked the cigarettes from his mouth.

"Smoking is prohibited here," she said, crushing the cigarette in her hand, causing Thomas to roll his eyes. "I know who she is, but why is she here?" she inquired, gazing into her nephew's eyes, as if trying to read between the lines of his thoughts.

"She's in danger," he replied.

"Aren't we all?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Yes. But she doesn't know anything, Pol. Even if she did, she wouldn't know how to protect herself from it," he sighed. "I can't allow them to kill another person who has nothing to do with any of this," he said, his voice intense.

Pol nodded, her head slowly bobbing back and forth. "Be careful, Thomas. You might do more harm to her if you fall in love," she warned.

Thomas scoffed, shifting his gaze to the restaurant's entrance. "Can you keep an eye on her?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

"Poor girl," Polly whispered to herself. "Sure, I’ll make sure she is ok," she shrugged.

"Thanks, Pol," he said, then downed the contents of his glass in one gulp.

"Would you like dinner?" Polly asked, but Thomas shook his head.

"No, I've got work to do," he said, rising from his seat and bidding his aunt farewell with a quick kiss on the top of her head.

“Bloody hell” She cursed as she watched him walk away. She knew he was already too involved with you and that could be a problem. 

The last few times Thomas fell in love were chaotic. Let's just say that when he falls in love, he doesn't think straight. Granted, his relationships weren't exactly healthy.

The first woman he fell in love with nearly ten years ago was named Grace. At that time, Thomas was just starting to build his empire. He fell deeply in love with this woman, who turned out to be a spy. Luckily, she was terrible at her job. Several tumultuous months of on-and-off again relationship followed as she was torn between doing her job and allowing herself to fall for the man she had to spy on. 

He spiraled when she decided to do "the right thing" and left his life with a folder full of evidence against Thomas. He had to take her down, well, actually Polly did because he was too busy drowning in alcohol. Grace's name is still not spoken in the Shelby family to this day.

The second one was a crazy Russian, he did business with her family. She was the "if you jump, I jump" type. For a while, Polly thought she might mean something good for him. He was happy, felt alive. She injected some fervor into his life, a kind of motivation.

However, because of her, drugs became a problem. She, like many rich people, had her vices, cocaine being the worst of them. They had an intense nightlife, so intense that it became their entire life. He spent so much time with his face in the white powder at night that during the day, he couldn't function. To make matters worse, he dragged Arthur into it.

Polly spent a long time trying to pull him out of that reality, but nothing worked. Until the Russian woman discovered she was pregnant. Tommy, as crazy and reckless as he might be, he always puts family first. 

After a long conversation with Polly, he knew that he needed to change, but she didn't want to. To start with, she didn't want the child. That was enough to make him crazy angry because he did want it and he knew that if she didn’t, there was nothing he could do about it. 

During that period, they argued 24/7. Until he finally won and made her promise that for nine months, just nine months, she wouldn't use any drugs. In the meantime, he gave her everything she wanted… cars, a house, luxury clothes, horses, businesses, whatever she desired, she had it.

For four months, they went together to the obstetrician, already looking at baby clothes in stores. Polly thought everything was settled. But her sobriety didn't last long. Thomas had to travel to the United States for a weekend, and during that weekend he was away, she had an overdose. It's a common thing, when an addict stays sober for a while and then uses again, they usually maintain the same dosage, but their tolerance is lower. She died, and so did the baby.

After that, Thomas was never the same. He never got seriously involved with any woman again, and it's been six years.

**

You woke up with a start, sitting up abruptly on the sofa as your brain raced to understand where you were. Something that often happens when you take those heavy afternoon naps. 

You brought your hands to your face, rubbing your eyes as you tried to calm down, realizing you felt strangely well-rested. Glancing at your wristwatch, you had an hour before your shift started, so you decided to get up and start getting ready.

In the bathroom, the bathtub seemed to beckon you for a long soak, and you allowed yourself to take advantage of the room's amenities. 

After you were dressed, you heard a knock on the door followed by someone yelling "room service!" You frowned and opened the door to see a woman whose eyes held a certain depth and charisma, and her curly brown hair framed her face in a way that exuded confidence and charm.

"I know you," you said as you tried to figure out where you knew her from.

"Yes, we've met. I'm Polly," she said, extending her hand towards you.

"Oh, yes, of course! It's nice to see you again. Thank you for letting me stay here" you smiled and shook her hand.

"No problem. I brought breakfast for you," she said, pushing a metal cart into the room, forcing the door to swing open, making you step aside.

"That's very kind of you," you replied with a hint of doubt in your voice.

Polly assessed the surroundings and turned her attention back to you. "Didn't sleep?" she asked, looking inside the room, which had a perfectly made bed.

"Oh, I did. I was so tired that I passed out on the sofa," you said with a shy smile.

"I see," she removed the cover from the food on the cart. "I hope you like croissants."

"Who doesn't?" you smiled.

Polly chuckled softly “You have no idea how many people don't”

She said as she began arranging a small breakfast spread on a nearby table, which included not only croissants but also a selection of pastries, fresh fruit, and a steaming pot of coffee. 

“I’ll let you eat” she smiled “if you need anything, you let me know”

“Ok” you nodded “thank you” 

As you started to enjoy your breakfast, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Polly's unexpected kindness.

Your shift at the hospital was calm, with nothing too dramatic happening, just a few broken bones and some cases of diarrhea. But with almost two hours to go, your boss gives you a call and asks if you can pull a double shift because the other doctor had a last-minute issue.

You agree reluctantly because, let's face it, you need the extra cash to move into a new apartment since you're definitely not going back to your old one.

"Hey, beautiful," Jeremy said as he approached you. You were reading a patient's chart who was just admitted.

"Hey," you replied, happy to see him. "Oh, I'm so glad you're on this night shift. I've missed you," you said with a smile and hugged him, setting the chart aside.

"Oh, girl, I had to take my fiancé for a colonoscopy. Poor thing..." he said, and you smiled.

"Why? What's wrong with him?" you asked.

"Suspected benign prostatic hyperplasia," he replied, and you nodded.

"But he's so young. BPH usually happens in older patients. It's a bit weird, isn't it?" you furrowed your brow, and he agreed as you walked through the hospital hallway.

"Yeah, it is, but the doctor doesn't think it's anything serious, and I'm trusting him. And don't you dare fill my head with worries," he warned you with an annoyed look.

"It probably isn't anything serious," you reassured him with a laugh.

"How is your man, by the way?" he asked.

"What man?" you asked, frowning.

"Thomas?" he said as if it were obvious.

"He's not my man Jer, for God's sake," you replied, avoiding the question.

"Hmm. I see you still haven't sorted things out with him. Why?" he asked.

“Too complicated” you answered “can we please not talk about it?”

“You are really just gonna let him go that easily? not even one fuck to see if things match? What if he’s that kind of guy who fucks you senseless? He sure looks like it” he chuckled 

“You are so… so dirty” you said, not finding the right words

“That's what my fiance tells me” he smirked, making you laugh

Your shift continued calmly until around two in the morning when the same figures you had prayed to any higher power, be it God or the universe, not to return to the hospital, came back. Arthur and John Shelby walked in, carrying a man covered in blood. Thomas walked calmly behind them. The nurses on duty rushed to assist in transporting the man, who appeared unconscious, to a bed.

"I need him alive," Thomas said as you passed in front of him on your way to the man. You stopped and stared at him for a few seconds, a mix of confusion and anger on your face. Looking at his hands, you noticed the scratches on his knuckles and blood, a lot of it. You thought of a million things to say but simply shook your head and continued to walk to the man.

"Okay, what do we have?" you asked, putting on your gloves as you saw Jeremy opening the patient's clothing. Other nurses were connecting him to the cardiac monitor while another assessed his neurological responses.

"Male, around 30, beaten and with a gunshot wound, no signs of exit wound," Jeremy said “look at this” he said showing you the man's hands, all nails were pulled out “He was tortured.”

"Neurological signs are normal," the nurse assessing responded.

"Alright, let's control the bleeding. Can someone get a blood bag, just in case?" you requested and began evaluating the gunshot wound in his shoulder, which appeared to be a few days old, already starting to show signs of infection. "Oh, jesus. Can someone bring the portable X-ray; we need to see where the bullet is lodged."

"There's no bullet," Thomas said, standing a few steps away from the bed.

The nurses looked at you, puzzled, waiting to see if they should fetch the X-ray or not. "Go," you said, choosing to ignore him.

"It's a waste of time. You won't find anything," he insisted.

"Do you want to do my job?" you snapped, annoyed, and when he remained silent, you continued, "Then shut up and let us work.". You knew if you told him to wait outside or to fuck off he would ignore you and that would piss you off more.

You turned your attention back to the man. "Has his blood been collected?" you asked.

"Yes, I told the lab to rush the tests," Jeremy replied, now cleaning the patient, who was covered in both dried and fresh blood, making it difficult to see the wounds. The man’s face was unrecognizable, all swollen, red and purple. 

"I want a chest and a head X-ray," you instructed. As soon as the radiologist arrived with the machine, he nodded and started to do his work. 

"Jaw fractured in many places," the radiologist reported as he examined the images. "He has some signs of pneumonia, his bronchi are very radiolucent. Lungs don't look too good. No sign of free fluid and no sign of any bullets. There are also five broken ribs, all still in place with no indication of lung perforation. Bullet wound looks clean, nothing damaged around it" he sighed “that’s all” 

"Thank you," you said with a smile as you watched him walk away. "It's likely he has aspirational pneumonia, given the amount of blood in his nostrils and mouth," you remarked while examining his mouth. "Alright, let's begin with broad-spectrum antibiotics and some pain relief. We'll proceed with the dressings, and remember, the bullet wound requires pressure. I won't suture the wound because it looks bad and infected” you took another look at the wound 

You worked efficiently with your team to stabilize the patient, providing him with the necessary care. Despite the earlier tension with Thomas, you focused on your duties as a doctor. The man's life was in your hands, and you were determined to do everything you could to save him.

“We'll await the results of the blood test to determine if a transfusion is necessary; I suspect it is due to his pale mucous membranes, but we'll confirm that. He does appear somewhat dehydrated, so we can prepare the fluids, but let's hold off on it a bit. If he's hypovolemic, giving him fluid prematurely could worsen his condition." You continued, "We should also work on warming him up," your gaze shifting to his pale and cold skin. "Monitoring his vital signs will be crucial. Keep a close watch on his oxygen saturation, heart rate, and blood pressure. Please inform me immediately if you notice any changes."

As the medical team swiftly began implementing your orders, you kept a watchful eye on the patient's condition. The antibiotics and pain relief were administered promptly, and the dressings were applied with care, paying special attention to the bullet wound's pressure.

You took a deep breath, observing the medical team as they moved in an almost synchronized rhythm. The controlled chaos of the emergency room was like a well-orchestrated dance, each member playing their part with precision and efficiency.

Taking a step back, you scanned the area, but Thomas was nowhere to be seen. You walked outside to search for him and found him with his brothers, right outside, smoking.

"Is he alive?" he asked when he saw you.

"Did you do that?" you asked, ignoring his questions. He ran his tongue over his lips, briefly averting his gaze as if he had no patience for your question.

"Is he alive?" he asked again, this time with more firmness in his voice.

"Yes..." you responded almost in a whisper.

"Good," he said, tossing his cigarette on the ground and heading towards his car.

"I need to know his name; he needs a file," you said urgently.

"Oh, he's a John Doe," he replied, his back turned to you as he walked away, almost mockingly.

"He was tortured!" you yelled.

"Was he?" he asked, turning to you as he opened the door to his car. "I didn't notice. Call me if he dies."

You stood there, seething with anger and frustration, watching him drive away without a care in the world. The Shelby brothers remained smoking, exchanging glances as they witnessed the tense encounter between you and Thomas.

“What the fuck are both still doing here?” you asked

“Making sure no one comes for him,” Arthur said, trying to hide his chuckle

You shook your head and returned to the hospital. You couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that something was terribly wrong with this situation. The mysterious patient had been brutally beaten and left for dead, and Thomas's nonchalant attitude left a sour taste in your mouth. A wave of nausea washed over you. The same hands that had once made you crave for more were now capable of something so terrible. Doubt and unease gnawed at your mind as you grappled with the unsettling reality of Thomas Shelby's duality.

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[linkspooky]

Jujutsu Kaisen, Chapter 210 Thoughts.

In one chapter, Hana Kurusu went from a minor character to one of the most interesting characters in the culling game. That may sound like I'm jumping the gun, but this one short chapter sets up a lot in terms of Hana, not only her connection to Megumi, but how she foils both Megumi and Yuji. An analysis on Hana and where I think her character may be going underneath the cut.

PART TWO OF THIS POST HERE. 

The Anima / Animus

There’s a reason that Yuji brings up Nobara, in the same chapter that Hana’s backstory and connection to Megumi is explained and it has nothing to do with shipping, actually. Hana is connected to Megumi by being his symbolic Anima in the story. 

The anima and aninmus are what Jung terms a “Sygzy”, a tearm used by Jung to mean a union of opposites. It is similar to the eastern concept of Yin and Yang. Just like the feminine Yin, and the Masculine Yang, each contain a taenite, a dot that represents the yin within the yang and the yang within the yin. That therefore there exists masculinity within the feminine Yin, and femininity within the masculine yang. Anima is the unconscious feminine side of a man, and anima the unconscious masculine side of a woman, each making up the personal psyche. 

In other words Megumi and Hana Kurusu are a pair. Not a ship. Just a pair of characters who are symbolically linked to one another. In some ways literal. It’s established alone not only is Hanas idea of what a good person is built around the idea of Megumi, but she shapes her personality based on what she thinks would make herself worthy to be by his side. Megumi already represents an aspect of Hana’s self, and arguably it works the other way around. Jung believed a male’s sensitivity is often lesser or repressed, and therefore considered the anima (the unconscious feminine side) to be one of their strongest sides. Ergo, men are more likely to repress their feminine sides, and at the same time the only way to develop those sides is to seek out femininity and interact with it. That sounds like basic rules of human interactions, the only way you can learn to have healthy relationships to other people and how to show your emotions in healthy ways is by interacting with people. A natural understanding of another member of the opposite sex is instilled in individuals that stems from constant subjection to members of the opposite sex.

However, this is where the Jungian twist comes in. Jung believed that the human mind understood things in terms of unconscious symbols, Jung was big on dream analysis. He also believed in “archetypes” which are more or less common character types that appear in all stories around the world. The hero. The mother. The mentor. Etc. Etc. Cursed spirits, are a Jungian idea. 

The fear of the earth, forest and sea are three archetypal fears in a Jungian sense, who anthropomorphize into Jogo, Hanami and Dagon. Jujutsu Kaisen is a story written using Jungian themes, that the subconscious shared among all human beings creates archetypes like this in their stories. Jogo is the personification of the earth. Hanami the forest. Dagon the sea. They are all archetypes shared across many stories. Here’s a common example of Jung’s argument for archetypes existing... how many stories around the world have a tale of a great flood? 

This brief explanation of archetypes is all to say, the Anima / Animus pairing is also an archetype that exists in stories. Jung defines archetypes as character that reoccur in mythology all around the world. He used several examples of female characters in mythology who are made to represent an inner feminine side of their masculine counterparts and associated them with Anima. Examples such as Persephone springtime goddess and wife of Hades. Minerva who serves as a feminine counterpart to Mars and Roman Culture, because Mars represents the violence of war and Athena the strategy. Eve, of Adam and Eve. Quite literally birthed from Adam’s own ribcage. 

“The anima is the feminine aspect of the archetypal male/female duality whose projections in the external world can be traced through myth, philosophy and religious doctrine. This duality is often represented in mythical syzygy symbols, which are expressions of parental imagos the singular power of this particular archetype is considered due to an unusually intense repression of the unconscious material considering the parental imagos.  Carl G. Jung in 1929

The gender binary is just a made up binary of course but that doesn’t change the fact all socieities have what you would call “feminine” and “masculine” traits, and all people contain both of these traits. A healthy individual balances these traits. Jung’s idea is more or less people need to develop both of these traits inside of them in order to be a healthy individual. A man who suppresses all of his feminine traits will be underdeveloped because he’s unbalanced. 

“The persona, the ideal picture of a man as he should be, is inwardly compensated by feminine weakness, and as the indivdual outwardly plays the strong man, so he beecomes inwardly a woman, the anima, for it is the anima that reacts to that persona. But because the inner world is dark and invisible to the extraverted consciousness, and because a man is all the less capable of conceiving his weaknesses the more he is identified with the person, the persona’s counterpart the anima remains completely in the dark and is at once projected so that our hero comes under the heel of his wife’s slipper.” Two essays on analytical SPsychology, CW7 (1957) “The relationships between the Ego and the Uncosncious” P. 309

In a fictional story therefore, a character who represses his more feminine or what he would consider his vulnerable traits is going to end up projecting those traits outward. He will create an archetype of the Anima which is all of those feminine traits he holds within himself, externalized into another character. 

Jung is making a case that how we interact with feminine and masculine traits within ourselves, is first modeled to us in our formative years either by our parents or the next best thing. For example and this is speaking in the broadest terms, for a lot of children their first exposure to feminity is with their mothers, and masculinity is in their relationship to their fathers. 

Archetypal images are described as pre-existent, available and active from the moment of birth as possibilities of ideas which are subsequently elaborated on by the individual.

The anima image is seen to be active in childhood projecting superhuman qualities on the mother before sinking back into the unconscious under the influence of external reality...”  Carl G. Jung in 1929

Megumi as it stands does not have a mother or a father, so he is already missing out on this most positive formative relationship. 

You can even see a small display of the anima / animus dynamic between Toji and Megumama. In extra material Gege states Megumi’s mother was enough to convince Toji to give up his unstable lifestyle and stay around for awhile, nurturing a more domestic side of him. When she dies, Toji becomes an incredibly toxic individual abandoning his family and focusing on his most toxic and extreme masculine traits, his habits of making money only to waste it on hedonism, his denial of any kind of affection of Megumi, his extremely violent lifestyle.

Toji is a lot of things, but from a Jungian Perspective he is incredibly out of balance. He represses all of his weaker, what would be considered feminine traits in order to try to express his masculine ones and all it results in is a mess of a person. 

Megumi is in many ways a parallel to Toji. They look almost identical at times, especially in moments where Megumi is about to get violent. Megumi is not an overtly masculine character like Toji, if anything he is downright boyish at times and yet he shares the same lack of balance that Toji does because Megumi is also an incredibly repressed individual. 

Megumi has a habit in the manga of flipping the fuck out. That’s the scientific term for it. A jungian perspective would argue this is because Megumi as an orphan abandoned by both mother and father who does not have formative memories of either, he has not been taught how to balance this duality within himself. In fact the only family member Megumi had as a young age to model what correct behavior is, was Tsumiki herself. 

It starts all the way back at this scene. Todo asks Megumi what his type of person is, and we see a brief flash of Tsumiki. This isn’t to suggest that Megumi is subconsciously attracted to Tsumiki, but rather she is the image of what a good person is in his mind. 

Megumi’s idea of goodness is based around Tsumiki, the same way our parents are supposed to instill morals in us and model correct behavior, but Megumi does not have parents. He has an older sister, so his entire idea of the way people are supposed to behave is based off of that person his only real social connection. However, we learn into Megumi’s backstory that despite living with Tsumiki for so long, he also lost her in a sudden and uncontrollable accident. 

Megumi is robbed of that important and formative connection. If his only model for goodness and proper behavior is gone, then what does Megumi have left to guide him? Megumi is definitely not toxically masculine to the extent that Toji is, but he is as an individual underdeveloped. He’s not very emotive. He doesn’t really express himself whatsoever. He is rarely truthful with his friends unless they badger them into it, and will outright keep secrets. Gojo even comments on his habit of always sacrificing himself rather than going after what he wants. 

Toji brazenly displays his power as the sorcerer killer in an attempt to deny all vulnerability and cover it up with a display of toxic masculinity. On the other hand I would say that due to the only important female in his life, Megumi is stunted. He has a growing dark side that Megumi himself seems unaware of, that at moments makes him act in ways that are dangerously similiar to Toji, especially when he uses his power in anger to cover up vulnerability. Gege even establishes these with pretty clear visual parallels between father and son. 

When Megumi loses control he tends to rely on his more masculine, aggressive traits we see this at the end of his fight in the Culling Games Arc. Remi as she is fleeing associates men with wolves, and it’s megumi’s black wolf specifically that is chasing her. It’s a big black wolf, chasing after a woman, who has been regularly taken advantage of by the men in her life. The symbolism is pretty overt. A man who has a underdeveloped anima side is therefore not going to interact well with feminity because those traits within themselves are out of balance. 

What stops Megumi right away though is the image of Tsumiki. THe person who before she was taken away from him, modeled a more correct way to relate to vulnerability. Tsumiki who advocates for nurturing, forgiving others, an incredibly feminine figure in Megumi’s life. 

However, ti’s at this moment that Megumi first encounters Hana. Who I am arguging is Megumi’s true anima character. She is his feminine counterpart in the story, he is meant to interact with in order to develop a fuller sense of self, and reconcile these traits that are at war within himself. 

The projection-making factor is the anima, or rather the unconscious as represented by the anima. Whenever she appears, in dreams, visions, and fantasies, she takes on personified form, thus demonstrating that the factor she embodies possesses all the outstanding characteristics of a feminine being. She is not an invention of the conscious, but a spontaneous product of the unconscious. Nor is she a substitute figure for the mother. On the contrary, there is every likelihood that the numinous qualities which make the mother-imago so dangerously powerful derive from the collective archetype of the anima, which is incarnated anew in every male child. [The Syzygy: Anime and Animus, C.G. Jung, Aion: Researches into the PHenomenology of the Self, P. 11-22

A lot of people are saying Hana is female Yuji, which is just incorrect. She is female Megumi. The same way that Megumi’s entire ideal of what a good person is, is built around the image of Tsumiki the only person in his life to show him care and compassion. Hana is similar to Megumi an orphan with no father or mother figure. 

In fact she is one step further because the maternal figure and caretaker she did have was a a curse that barely provided for them and then ate children. 

Megumi’s intervention was the only demonstration of caring she ever had, just like Tsumiki’s was for Megumi, and on top of that Megumi was someone of a similar age just like how Megumi and Tsumiki are siblings only a few years apart. They are both people whose entire moral identity is modeled around someone else. The opposite to the Anima is the Animus. The masculine side of women. Just like the first exposure to femininity is usually the relationship with the mother, the first exposure to masculinity is with the father.

Woman is compensated by a masculine element and therefore her unconscious has, so to speak, a masculine imprint. This results in a considerable psychological difference between men and women, and accordingly I have called the projection-making factor in women the animus, which means mind or spirit. The animus corresponds to the paternal Logos just as the anima corresponds to the maternal Eros. 

[The Syzygy: Anime and Animus, C.G. Jung, Aion: Researches into the PHenomenology of the Self, P. 11-22

 However, Megumi demonstrates that masculinity instead by protecting and saving her with his white wolf. The same way that Tsumiki demonstrated a healthy femininity with her decision to care and watch out for her brother and try to impress some morals upon him. He is in every way her animus, the same way she is his anima. 

Hana’s design and name also share several symbols of the anima. Jung believed that four distinct level of “Eros” which he named, Eve, Helen, Mary and Sophia are the process which a man undergoes to open up to greater emotionality within himself. 

Eros named after the god of love, the roman version of cupid, both versions are depicted often as men with wings, which was obviously a symbol that christianity co-opted for their most typical portrayals of cherubic angels. Angel is quite literally a christian angel with a halo and everything, she also visually calls up the imagery of Eros because once again christian angels are designed after Eros. 

The first stage of development of the Eros is named the Eve - the object of desire, provider of nourishment, security and love. Named after the Genesis account of Adam and Eve. At this point the Anima is tied up with woman as a provider of nourishment, security and love. The man at this animal cannot function well without a woman. The same way that Megumi himself, is out of balance due to the fact that Tsumiki, his literal only healthy familial relationship is missing from his life. In fact his entire goal right now is to rescue Tsumiki in order to restore that balance in himself again. 

The painting this is invoking isn’t subtle, it’s Da Vinci’s famous painting the “The Creation of Adam.” Hana is appearing as a godlike figure to rescue a man in this scene. The way at this stage of Eros, the Eve appears to him to help him as well, the same way she showed up practically out of nowhere to help Megumi in his greatest time of need. Hana is being presented to us as an otherworldly figure, who’s only real desire is to be helpful to Megumi. 

She also immediately makes claims of destiny and connection between them She is in a way destined for him, because she represents the Eros side, the part of Megumi’s emotions that he is meant to learn to integrate so he can become a fuller, more well-rounded person. They are even connected down to their names. 

I consulted on the Kanji of Hana’s name with my friend and bully @kaibutsushidousha​

Link:  来栖華 Hana Kurusu Kai:  華 is a kanji that rarely means "flower" but more often means "luxury" or "lavishness" Kai:  Now Kurusu's kanji means "upcoming nest", obviously because she's the Angel's host Kai: But also. Kurusu is pronounced “Cross” because of the angel of chrstianity.  Kai:  Wait. Wait. Wait. I figured out Hana. It’s the japanese spelling of the hebrew name “Hannah.” Name meaning “blessing, favor, grace” or in japanese “Megumi.”   Kai: Hana = Megumi.  Kai: Because their soulmates (Hana Kurusu is holding me at gunpoint to say this)

On one, final note I want to mention that an anima / animus relationship does not necessarily have to be coded romantically. All it means is a character made to represent Megumi’s repressed feminine side in the story he is meant to interact with in order to develop as a character. Jung even mentions that they could become a romantic pair, but it’s just as likely they could argue as well. 

This singular fact is due to the following circumstance: when animus and anima meet, the animus draws his sword of power and the anima ejects her poison of illusion and seduction. The outcome need not always be negative, since the two are equally likely to fall in love (a special instance of love at first sight).  [The Syzygy: Anime and Animus, C.G. Jung, Aion: Researches into the PHenomenology of the Self, P. 11-22]

In other words, they are just as likely to come to blows, as fall in love. I’m not making a prediction in regards to either, because we barely know anything about Hana yet besides her origin. However, they already have a conflict set up, Hana’s desire to exterminate Yuji’s is the exact opposite of Megumi’s to save him. 

On top of that, despite the fact that they both show a desire to help the people closest to them in order to stand alongside them, you could say Hana’s moral views paint Megumi’s in much more selfish terms. Um, basically Megumi sort of dresses up his desires in ideas of justice and fairness. When really his only desire is to selfishly save a few people closest to him. 

Of course Megumi states this too, that he only picks and chooses who he saves selfishly. He’s not out to be a hero. He is half-aware that these are just his selfish ideals and desires not a heroic sense of right and wrong he is working under. 

On the other hand it’s clear Megumi puts people like Yuji who will recklessly save anyone, and Tsumiki who will not curse others on a pedestal. They are what good people are in his mind. He thinks Yuji’s ideals are better than his. Megumi is worshiping an idealism he cannot live up to. 

Whereas, Hana is much more upfront about the selfishness of her desire to help people. For one, she expresses a pretty similar morality to what Megumi is always saying, that they don’t have to go out of their way to save people. Megumi probably thinks that Yuji’s thinking is more correct than his way of thinking, but he doesn’t really argue with Angel / Hana either. That is probably something that Megumi would have said in this situation if Angel hadn’t, that they really don’t benefit in the longrun from going out of their way to save all the soldiers and the more pragmatic option is to help the greater amount of people by doing something that can put an end to the culling games. 

If anything Hana/Angel’s confrontation with Yuji here, reflects the same kind of confrontation that he and Megumi had in the reform school. That Yuji shouldn’t go out of his way to save a convicted crimminal or risk himself or the mission because they are not worth it. Another way in which Hana/Angel displays her similarity as the feminine / anima half of Megumi. 

Megumi even goes out of his way to lecture Yuji for picking a fight with her on purpose. Further evidence he doesn’t really find Hana/Angel’s position all that disagreeable, she was expressing a sentiment that Megumi would usually express, and it was Yuji who went out of his way to argue with her Megumi didn’t object in any real way. 

Even when Kurusu does save a solider, it’s not out of the goodness of her heart. Megumi picks and chooses who to save selfishly because he wants to protect and cherish the few good people in his life, Tsumiki, Yuji. The unstated part of that is also, he wants to keep them by his side. He’s saddened by the loss of Tsumiki and is currently trying to get her back which is his number one priority for entering the culling games. Hana similarly goes out of her way to help a solider, but her internal reasoning is revealed to us. She’s not doing it out of the goodness of her heart. Much like Megumi’s relationship to Tsumiki or Yuji. Megumi is her definition of a good person, and she wants to be a person worthy of being by Megumi’s side. 

Her act of saving someone is really just as selfish as Megumi, but done out of a human desire to connect. That’s what an anima / animus pairing do in a story, they seek out each other, because they need the other in order to grow. 

And that’s all I have to say about that. I am going to continue this post in a part two because I seriously did not expect the first part to get this long and I want to have mercy on my readers. U

[thatasnow]

The Call of the Stars - Prologue

Summary: Isabella, or Izzy, has her life turned upside down when, within days, an unexpected visitor summons her to return to her true home, Prythian. As long-buried secrets emerge and reality distorts around her, Izzy finds herself forced to confront a forgotten past and a destiny she never imagined. With the weight of a shocking revelation and a new journey unfolding, she must discover what it truly means to “go home” and what is at stake for her and the world she has been forced to leave behind.

Pairing: Azriel x OC (Eventually)

Warning: This prologue may contain elements of mystery, drama, and a healthy dose of emotion. Prepare for a journey with unexpected twists and turns and perhaps a little star magic. For those sensitive to themes of trauma and psychological issues, please read with caution. Enjoy reading and keep your senses sharp!

The rights to the ACOTAR universe and characters go to the author, Sarah J. Maas.

Prologue

I vaguely remember that when I was a child I was terrified of waking up alone at home, blame my parents for deciding to choose “Home Alone” in one of our movie sessions. As the years went by I calmed down and my fear disappeared as if I had never felt it, I felt completely sure that I would never be abandoned, but reality made itself present in my adolescence and I can't say that it was kind to me.

My first abandonment was when I was around thirteen years old and the second (the worst in my opinion…) was after my long-awaited 15th birthday party. Since that year I have changed abruptly, which is something to be expected after something like that, right? Well, I don't think everyone thinks the same way as me.

Can you understand what I mean? - I just nod halfheartedly, which makes the woman in front of me sigh nervously - You need to get more involved with the other students, Miss Wilson, you were so much more talkative when you arrived, I'm sure you miss more human interactions..- the frustration in her shrill voice was noticeable.

I'll talk to Tom now - I counter with a shrug, which annoys her even more with my carefree air and not at all open to the older woman's advice.

One friend is not enough, you have to be more sociable, what are you going to do when you go out into the adult world like this? - I huff indignantly at Mrs. McCarthy's same old talk.

This doesn't affect me in any way, I'm here talking to you, aren't I? I don't need to make friends with everyone I talk to - I retort, crossing my arms under my chest, while I raise one of my eyebrows in question.

Go back to your dorm, you have a visitor - I frown, confused - you are free from your obligations for today - it was noticeable that she remained bitter from our super "productive" conversation.

It's not my fault that she doesn't understand my reasons, I won't change just because of a warning from someone who doesn't even really know me. Only Tom could do that, he's the only one who really knows me, the only one who tried to get to know me for real and in his own way, he managed to do it. Without saying anything else, I stand up and without looking back I leave, with the news still being processed by my brain.

Finally! - My friend exclaims loudly next to me, which takes me out of my train of thought - I thought I would have to go in and intervene before we missed the first class! - He continues as he starts walking down the wide gray hallway.

You know you don't have to wait for me - I complain, starting to walk beside him - besides, I'm not going to go to classes today, Tom.. - with that he stops walking which makes me do the same.

Don't tell me you're feeling sick - he says, his eyes shining with concern.

No.. I'll be receiving a visitor.. - I smile slightly at his concern, but it soon disappears, my mind bubbling with possibilities, none of which seem good to me.

I don't have any really close relatives, or friends outside of this boarding school. It's been years since it's been just me and Tom, my only friend and family. Not that I disregard my parents or anything, but I haven't had them in my life for several years and, apart from my moments with them as a child, I had nothing else in my life that reminded me of them other than the titles acquired when I was born.

Do you know who you are?… - he begins the question carefully, gently taking me out of my thoughts. My eyes, in their unusual shades of violet, turn to his brown ones, finding his face frowning in confusion, just as I had a few minutes ago when I learned of this “visit”. But somehow, that confused but equally worried expression on his soft features, for the first time, resonated differently, making my heart flutter in my chest. I always appreciated my friend’s care and concern for this, but my body had never reacted so intensely before.

I have no idea who it is..- I answer honestly, crossing my arms restlessly, hopping from one foot to the other. - And to be honest… it terrifies me… what if they found out what happened that night, Tom? - I murmur the question softly, leaning forward slightly so that he wouldn’t have trouble hearing me. The anguish in my voice was palpable and my worried gaze scanning the empty hallway around us was visible.

There's no way they can find out anything… especially since nothing happened… - He assures me softly, placing his thin but strong hands on my forearms, drawing circles on my skin to calm me down. Which works at first, after I take a deep breath, focusing my eyes on his again that attract me with how captivating they are.

You know I'm not so sure about that, Tom… - I argue weakly, trying to truly believe my friend's words, but they seem so far from reality in the morning light, no longer like a messy fever dream. I knew it had happened, even in the face of a hideous and simply senseless unreality, I feel it deep down.

I lift my head and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself, which I fragilely manage, I'm just not so sure how much I'll be able to hold it in this way.

Well… - I begin calmly, forging a facade of neutrality that belies my inner conflict. But despite feigning my composure, there would always be a vulnerability in me when it comes to Tom, it's undeniable and instinctive. - I have to go back to my dorm to meet this mysterious person… wish me luck! - I add with an incredibly convincing forced smile, but I know I'm not convincing him anymore.

Remember to take a deep breath… everything will be okay… don’t worry, Izzy… - he answers gently, leaning in to kiss my forehead tenderly, making my facade falter for a second as I close my eyes, enjoying the comfort he brings me.

With one last gentle look in my direction, Tom is gone, walking quickly down the huge, empty hallway with white walls and gray marble floors in order to avoid being even later for class, it makes me feel slightly guilty for being the cause again. My gaze moves to the opposite side of the hallway from where Tom went, my shoulders squaring up as if I were going into battle, which emotionally I might be.

It was a purposely slow walk, I knew something wasn’t right, I could feel it in my bones and I may be paranoid and cowardly, I know that, but I couldn’t help it. When I reached the door to my dorm, my breathing hitched as I slowly opened the door, only for it to go out in a single breath when I saw who was waiting for me. My eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing.

She hadn't changed at all, her face soft but strong and chiseled in the jaw and cheeks, her gaze sharpened by time but equally warm and impossibly violet, just like mine. My mother.

She looked like the same woman as before, the same one who read to my little me every night while my father worked until the next morning. But that should be impossible, really impossible… My mother had been in prison for over 10 years, so how could she not change? Not a single wrinkle had appeared in that time, nothing… not even a new scar to tell the story of her time in prison.

How long, my beautiful little star…- my mother's melodic voice wakes me from my stupor, and with small tears on my face I run to her and hug her fiercely, burying my face in the crook of her neck, as if I was afraid she would disappear. I feel myself trembling in her arms, as she calms me with soft caresses on my scalp, her other arm wrapping around my back protectively. My tremors only calm down when she starts humming one of my favorite songs, one she loved to sing to me when she was younger, and even though I couldn't listen to it at boarding school because I could never find it on the internet, it seemed vivid in my memory.

But something makes me stiffen and open my eyes abruptly… the melody… my mother's voice was in my head… just like I had done last night…

Not in the same way and not with the same intensity… she was being much softer than I had been with Rick. I pull away from her, pacing the room in a panic, trying to calm myself and telling myself that this was just my mind playing tricks on me with the irrational fear in my head. It didn't make any sense!

But to my complete horror, my mother's voice returns to my mind, soft and comforting - We have to go back to our home, my little star… we have to go back to Prythian… - this does not calm me at all, it only makes me more confused and horrified. How was this possible? Where is this Pryhian? Or better yet, what is Prythian?

Next

[marshmallowprotection]

ive never seen it before but i really like the lesbian rika hc!! is there a reason behind why you hc it or is it just one of those things that feels right?

Mainly, it's just because it feels right to me. In another sense, it's got a lot to do with the fact that I think Rika needed more time to live and experience the world before she stumbled into Jihyun Kim's artwork. She found him not long before she got kicked out. She worked as his muse / model for a short while before that happened, and that's how she ended moving in with him and their relationship snowballed from that point.

When Rika talks at length about Jihyun Kim, she doesn't speak like she's in love with him as a person, she speaks to the effect of wanting to BECOME him. Rika has never wanted to be herself. She, as herself, has never been good enough for the world in her eyes. She was never wanted as a baby as far she knows. She was never truly wanted with her adopted family because she wasn't "angelic" enough.

There was a single moment in her life when she found the agency to have control, and that's when she acted like the devil to keep Sally at her side and confronted the entire church for their bigotry. That's one of the major reasons why Rika bounces back and forth between that angel and devil iconography in the series. She only felt like she had a sense of autonomy when she was the devil.

But, Jihyun Kim?

The man with shining eyes who captured the sun in a way that made her feel alive?

He doesn't have to be the devil to feel in control. He doesn't have to fight inner demons like she does when it comes to trying to decide who he is as a person at crucial moments of right and wrong. He has a world of freedom and liberty and beauty. She doesn't have that. It becomes the reason why she ultimately obsesses over with him.

The game doesn't exactly do a good job in showing the full scope of this particular narrative, and unless you've got Rika's Diary from the Box and you've played her DLC, you're gonna miss these details. It's damning once you see it, though. Rika wants to become V to escape being herself.

I won't say Rika didn't love Jihyun because she did love him on some level. But, she wasn't in love with him. She was in love with the idea of love, and the idea of becoming Jihyun Kim. She could never become him, though, and that's... that's ultimately one of the things that hurt her when she hit rock bottom.

When she killed Mother Choi to defend herself and she stood there, realizing that she couldn't be an angel, she couldn't be the RFA's Rika Kim, and she couldn't become Jihyun Kim to run away from the devil she fears becoming even though being the devil was the damn thing that also helped her feel liberated? She gave up on trying to be what she thought the world wanted and accepted that she could only be a devil.

That led to the creation of Mint Eye as Mika spurned her to lean more and more into her devil. She took Mika's idea and made it her own in stride, going further than what Mika might've done had she lived as Rika lashed out at herself, Saeran, Ray, Jihyun, and the RFA in anger and contempt. She burned her bridges and everyone around her in an instant.

A huge part of her anger at Jihyun isn't just that he "spurned" her devil, it's because she's still angry that she couldn't become him to escape her devil. The obsession between Jihyun and Rika is such a messy topic to talk about from both sides, but just speaking from Rika's angle here since I've talked way more about Jihyun than her over the years, she loved the idea of him more than being with him.

Neither he nor her should've gotten in a relationship because they both needed a lot of help and care for themselves first.

Whenever Rika interacts with the player in the moments when the MC has a chance to bridge the gap and listen to her above everyone else, she lowers her guard in a way I don't see her doing Jihyun. Her relationship with MC in the V Bad Ending certainly isn't a healthy one in the slightest, but there's something worth saying about the way in which Rika says:

"You make me feel like a person, not the Savior, not the muse of Jihyun's obsession, or someone who will be taken advantage of by those around me."

Ever since I played that ending, I've just been unable to read Rika as anything other than a lesbian who never had the space to realize she liked women because of the oppressive environment her religion had on her as a person. She never had the chance to find the language to express her feelings and she latched onto V when she did because it was like... he was her only hope, and she wanted to become him more than she ever loved him.

In a way, Jihyun was her Savior, like God, and even Jihyun himself confesses he tried to act like a God or Savior to her at their lowest moments together in that codependent, toxic relationship.

I think if Rika had more of a chance to explore herself, she would find out that she's queer. She feels more drawn to women then she ever did with men and with time, she'd find the word for herself and feel at home with it. For someone who's felt the sting of religion hurt me on my journey to find my identity, the thought of Rika working hard to unravel her trauma and accept herself is a peaceful arc in my heart.

I just wonder, if I ever sat down with her, would she say she wanted to feel a spark with Jihyun but it was never there? She was obsessed with him because she wanted to be him, to love him, and to be loved in turn, but it always felt strange? She wanted it with him, but in her heart, there was always something there telling her that this wasn't quite how she wanted to experience love?

And maybe that's why being with MC in VBE1 felt so right for Rika, and why was she able to communicate how she felt at ease with her MC? Like, I know there are limitations in Mystic Messenger when it comes down to sapphic routes, and they get as close as they can in many ways, which paved the way for other otome to soar even more in that regard. But, I know the game won't outright say it one way or the other for Rika, even though we've had 1000000% confirmation for Jaehee and I'll fight anyone who says Jaehee's route isn't one of the most romantic ones.

But, yeah, lesbian Rika real in my heart. I know there are some people who headcanon Rika as bi, but I don't get a read on her that feels that way so I've always viewed her as a lesbian who only figures that out for herself when she meets MC and really self-reflects on what she thinks love is, not just as an idea or an obsession, but what it really means to be in love.

I'm surprised you haven't seen the lesbian Rika HC before because most of the people I know in this fandom also view Rika as a lesbian!

I know a few people with MCs shipped with Rika that are the cutest, actually! Off the top of my head, I know @natasha-in-space has an MC for Rika she'd probably love to gush about! I've done some art and writing in the past for folks who have Rika MCs, too. I just love seeing MCs for the entire cast. Rika MCs are rare, but when I see any of them, I'm happy!

[aheathen-conceivably]

☀️🛰

My dearest, my darling, thank you for these!! 😭

☀️ Sun - Who is your most cheerful and positive character? Why are they like that?

Overall, definitely Isaiah. I’ve always read one of the facets of his childish trait as an unflappable sense of positivity. This is something he inherited from Florence, and her proclivity to see the good in the world; but it also interacts with his own good nature and ability to find happiness in the simplest things.

An honorable mention to Giorgio as well, who’s cheerfulness is probably just as much an inherent character trait as Isaiah. Only unlike our blonde baby boy, I think Gio is much more aware that it’s a choice for him to continue seeing the world in this way, and it’s challenged by his memories rather than encouraged by it. Even when he’s pulled down by these things, he tries to push through them with humor and cheerfulness that’s felt by the people around him.

🛰 Satellite - Do you have a character who is very dependent on another character? Is it healthy or unhealthy?

Ahaha, everyone? Kind of? What can I say, I love a messy interpersonal dynamic. But it’s definitely different for each character, and some would be able to move past it more easily than others.

But the “worst” offender? Honestly, probably Zelda. It’s mentioned multiple times that she can’t even sleep without Antoine there, and that she envies Jo for having Giorgio at home with her all the time. If she had her way, that’s exactly what she would want for her and Antoine. Part of this is just a healthy sense of love, of really enjoying being around the other person and wanting as much of that as possible in your life.

Digging a little deeper though, I do think there’s some unhealthy dependency happening there too. Antoine keeps Zelda’s head grounded, and that’s something she hasn’t really learned to do herself. He keeps her from spiraling into herself, holding her feet on solid ground and her focus on their family. Without him there she’s a lot more likely to live in her dreams and her anxieties, especially if she’s sleepless or fear driven for any reason.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s1 episode 11 thoughts

this episode had me stressed. out. in the last 6 minutes i was speedrunning every emotion.

at first i thought we were finally getting some vampire action and i was excited to see how they handled that. but no. it went in a very different direction.

i also love that mulder thinks aliens come to earth to play with humans like how "we dissect frogs", sure i'll subscribe to that worldview.

i would love to know how frequently our main duo here finds themselves interviewing children because i feel like this happens a lot. do they train you for that at the academy?

was also receiving mixed messages here on if these two even LIKE interacting with children because scully seems pretty alright at it and seemed quite protective, especially after they got kidnapped. mulder was all "that's a nice bunny :)" so i was like oh, he knows what he's doing.

but then when the girl got kidnapped he was cracking jokes about the cops not looking in the right direction (which was up, because clearly aliens took her!) so i was like, okay so he does not know what he is doing if joking is his first instinct after a sort of amber alert situation (or he's of the "my sense of humor is twisted and dark you wouldn't understand" genre).

and THEN he tells the next girl's mom that she has a beautiful daughter. in conclusion: ???

scully stopped into mulder's motel room and then he makes her leave to attend to Secret Business and she said "mulder you're rushing me out of the room... is a girl coming over?" (cutscene to him on the water with his weird boss popping his sunflower seeds) <- i laughed at the juxtaposition

(and also laughed at how desperately scully wants this man to do something that isn't alien related, even if that means hooking up with random people during their investigation. i deeply respect the need to get under his skin as well it's very endearing to me. banter is key to a healthy dynamic.)

so the bossman comes and says back in the 50's they tried to make captain america but it didn't work out. happens sometimes. they then make a detour to a place that seems a VERY healthy environment to keep people experiencing severe distress. (/s)

at this point we learn the girls did the murders! and our agents are so busy wanting to LARP being a family they forgot about stranger danger- which now also goes in the adult's direction! they bought the kids soda and let one of the twins even give the cashier the money (which i think is a sign of deep respect in the culture of children, did mulder study for this or something?)

i was sweating at this point! i kept yelling girl they're gonna kill you!

luckily they figured this out but only AFTER drinking the children's poison. it was harrowing.

overall a good episode. i was sat at the edge of my seat. remember to NOT trust strange children because they might poison you and extract your blood.

(i will say that the treatment of IFV in this episode as a way to make little demon spawn spoke to the Scariness of Modern 90's Science and probably didn't make its proponents very happy- in modern vernacular we may use the term "Problematic"- but that's just my best guess because i have only ever lived in a world in which that is a fairly normal thing to happen and i cannot speak to the socio-cultural fears of a period i was not alive during without conducting intense research)