#even though my situation has changed significantly
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hallmarks of sisterhood
putellas!reader. r mediates a fight between her sisters. they don't realize they're tearing her apart in the process. at least, not until they ruin an important night for her. can they make it up to her? fluff & angst.
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Being significantly younger than your sisters, you were the true baby of the family, and were treated as such. You were already a pretty sensitive person, and the overprotective tendencies of the entire family only increased this. You were quite different from both your sisters. Alba was an extrovert, always talking, always laughing, never thinking too hard about anything. Alexia was quieter in public, but always loud at home in an attempt to match Alba’s energy. The competitive gene only seemed to skip you, and you hated conflict. Any type of it. You didn’t like yelling, you didn’t like arguments, and you couldn’t stand when people were mad at you.
It made sense then, that you’d always been the mitigator between your sisters. They were always fighting growing up, and it took a very small you to break up the fights that the teenage versions of them would get into, often shoving your small body in between theirs and singing a song so loudly they had no choice but to stop arguing. If the singing didn’t work, then you’d cry, and that always worked.
As you got older, your role changed slightly. You were still the mitigator, but more because you were logical and smart and both of them could normally trust you to be objective. You didn’t really enjoy it, but you hated it more when they weren’t speaking to each other, so you did what you could to resolve their fights easily.
All of this considered, you were not surprised to catch yourself in an argument between them yet again. This one wasn’t super similar to the others, though, in that it was much more emotionally charged. Both Alexia and Alba seemed angrier at each other than normal, and you didn’t know why. Still, you tried to fix it, as best you could.
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“I cannot believe you, Alba.” Alexia sighed, shaking her head at her other sister.
“Don’t try to guilt trip me, Ale, this isn’t my fault. I told you before there was a chance I’d have to go to this conference.” Alba shot back.
“You don’t have to go, you are choosing to go. So you can hook up with that coworker you're seeing.”
Alba flushed red with anger.
“Let’s calm down, guys,” you began, shifting uncomfortably in your seat in the corner of the sectional. Neither girl paid you any mind.
“I am going for work, Alexia, I wouldn’t sleep with anyone at a work conference.”
“Oh, yes of course, you’re so above that. You are notorious for not hooking up with people in inappropriate situations Alba, how could I forget. It was only 4 of my teammates you slept with? And how many of my other friends?”
“You are such a-”
“Stop.” You cut in. “Alexia, that was mean. Alba, she’s just disappointed because she was looking forward to spending time with everyone.” You cut in, trying to cool the rising temperature of the room.
“No, I am disappointed because we made a commitment to do this for Mami and now she’s backing out. Like always.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Alba scoffed.
“The last trip to Ibiza. Mother’s day last year. My 25th birthday,” Alexia began to list, counting the events off on her fingers rather condescending.
“Guys, please calm down.” You attempted.
“Will you ever get over me missing your 25th birthday? Or are you going to have it engraved on your tombstone? ‘My sister missed my birthday once and I never shut up about it.’” Alba yelled, getting to her feet and walking closer to where Alexia was sitting at the kitchen counter.
When Alexia rose to meet her, you stood nervously, too, moving a bit closer. “Why don’t we all stay seated?” You tried.
Both of them continued to ignore you, as if you weren’t even there. “That is not the point, Alba.”
“No, Ale, the point is that only your career is important. Everyone has to drop everything for football, but what I do doesn’t matter, and I have to bend over backwards to make things work with your insane schedule. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Alexia.”
“Oh my god, Alba. You are such a bitch.” Alexia sighed, rolling her eyes in a way she knew would make the younger girl furious.
“You are the bitch, Alexia. A selfish, bossy, mean bitch,” Alba yelled, crossing her arms and taking a step closer to the older girl.
“Alba, I swear to god,” Alexia threw back, the volume of her voice making you flinch. You stepped in between them, forcing them to both back up a bit.
“Please stop shouting.” You pleaded, looking between them. Both of them turned to you, annoyed.
“Go somewhere else if it’s bothering you, pequeña! Adults argue. Grow up.” Alexia yelled, sending a glare your way. You stopped back, blinking away tears, looking incredibly hurt. Alexia sighed. “Sorry, nena, I didn’t mean-”
It was too late, though, you were pushing past her towards the door of her house. “No, whatever. I’ll go. Solve your argument by yourselves for once.” You snapped.
“Nice job, Ale, you made the el bebe cry.” Alba said mockingly.
“Shut your mouth, Alba. Pequeña, come back,” Alexia called, but the door was already slamming shut behind you.
You wiped at your eyes furiously, getting into your car. You’d always hated how sensitive you were, how anyone raising their voice at you made you cry. You couldn’t argue, couldn’t disagree without dissolving into tears. Normally, angry tears. You’d always been like this, and your sisters often made fun of it, but were aware of the fact that you hated yelling, and tried to avoid doing so. Even when they were fighting with each other. Today got too out of control, though, both of them taking this specific issue very seriously.
They’d have to figure it out themselves, this time. You were done with this. They knew how you felt about conflict, and yet they always put you in the middle. It was exhausting and hurtful being caught in between them. They were adults, they could solve this argument.
You and Eli didn’t live far from Alexia, and you reached home before you were really ready to. You needed to erase all evidence of your tears from your face before heading inside, because Eli could not know about this. You and your sisters did not tell on each other, for one thing. For another, there was a possibility the trip in question could be rescheduled and you didn’t want to ruin the surprise.
You checked your face in the mirror, took a deep breath, denied Alexia’s phone call, and headed inside, prepared to pretend that nothing was wrong.
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You got past your mother with very few questions asked, as she was distracted reading over Alexia’s new Nike contracts. Your sister still had Eli read all her contracts, a habit you and Alba teased her about often.
Eli did come knocking, though, only a few hours later, while you were in your room getting some homework done. “Nena?” She called from the hallway, not hearing a response to her knock.
Still, you didn’t say anything, so she pushed the door open, only to find you asleep at your desk, your head resting on a pile of photographs, your computer opened up to photoshop. A black and white photo of your sister at training was pulled up, and Eli quickly averted her eyes, knowing very well she wasn’t supposed to see this particular assignment until you were done.
“Mija,” Eli said, covering her eyes as she heard you stir. “Go to bed, it’s late, and you are exhausted.”
“Do not look, Mami!” You cried, sitting up completely and quickly flipping everything over and shutting your computer.
“I’m not!” Eli replied, laughing at how secretive you were about these photos.
“Okay, everything is away.” You said, standing to give your mother a hug before getting into bed. She squeezed you tight, as she always did, kissing your cheek before letting go.
“Goodnight,” she said, giving you a kind smile.
“Goodnight mami,” you replied, knowing she was smiling because she knew you were about to get back on your computer as soon as she left the room.
“Oh, do you know why your sister’s are fighting? I texted the groupchat with them, and they both replied to me separately.” Eli asked with an eye roll, quite used to your sisters’ antics.
“Something dumb, probably.” You said with an unconvincing laugh. Your mother gave you a weird look, like she didn't believe you, but didn’t push it.
As soon as she was out of the room, you were, in fact, back on your computer, finishing up the final touches on a photo of Alexia. You were really too excited to be preoccupied with your sisters at the moment. You were in school studying photography, and after a recent exhibition at your school, a gallery in Barcelona had reached out and asked you to shoot a series for them to display. They’d given you full creative control, which was an insane amount of trust to put into a 20 year old, and you were determined not to mess it up.
If that meant staying up late making sure every photo was perfect in the next couple days, so be it. You were proud of this work, and that wasn’t really a common feeling for you. You’d grown up in the shadow of your two sisters. Alexia was the best female footballer in the world, and Alba was… Alba. Everyone loved her. Nothing you ever did seemed to really make anyone pay attention, except for your Mami. Eli had always been careful to celebrate your and Alba’s accomplishments, like she celebrated Alexia’s, even if they weren’t of the same magnitude. Your sisters were a bit better than the rest of your family and friends, paying attention to what you did, but it always felt a bit like your mother was making them do so.
This was your chance to do something impressive of your own. Something that everyone could understand, everyone could be impressed by. It was an opportunity you were not about to waste. You didn’t realize the potential that other people had, though, to ruin it for you.
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The next few days were busy. When you weren’t working on your photos, making sure they were perfectly edited and printed properly, you were worrying about what people would think about them. Or you were trying to pick the perfect outfit for Saturday evening, the opening of the gallery. There wasn’t a ton of time for you to respond to Alexia’s repetitive apologies, or to Alba’s pleading for you to be on her side. It was annoying, really, that during such an important and stressful week, they couldn’t leave you out of their argument.
You finally had enough on Friday, pulling up the groupchat with both of them in it, and sending a rather harsh message. It wasn’t like you to be harsh and snap at them, and you were hoping they would get the message that they’d upset you, and you wanted to be left out of this.
If one of you texts me one more time about this idiotic fight, I am going to tell Mami that it was you two who dented her car, not the neighbor backing into it. I am so tired of being pulled into the middle of this. Both of you apologize to each other for being mean, and get over it.
You hoped that would be the end of it. When your phone buzzed a few minutes later, though, you knew that had been a naive hope.
Alexia had responded first.
It should not be hard to pick a side when I am right, nena.
Alba responded after that.
You always let Alexia get away with things you’d yell at me about. You can both apologize to me when you are ready.
You weren’t really sure how Alba had decided that you’d sided with Alexia, but you certainly were not going to be apologizing to her anytime soon. You left them both on read, figuring they’d make up before the gallery opening tomorrow night.
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You were up pretty much the entire night before the gallery. This time, not because anything needed to get done, but because you were nervous. You were thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong. By the time morning rolled around, you slept for maybe a couple hours, and created a decisive list of every bad thing that could happen today.
You actually hadn’t thought of everything, but you wouldn’t know that until later.
You’d passed out just as the sun had started to rise, and Eli came in to wake you up only a few hours later.
“Nena, despierta,” she said softly, setting down a mug of coffee on your nightstand and shaking your shoulder.
You bolted upright in bed, and looked around frantically, startling your mother. “Am I late?!” You gasped, moving to get out of your bed as fast as possible.
“No, no, you aren’t late. It is only 11. Relax, mija, everything is okay.” Eli soothed, gently pushing you back down onto the bed.
You let out a relieved sigh, rubbing at your face with your hands. “Sorry.”
“Did you sleep at all?” Eli asked with a disapproving look.
“Not much. I tried, I swear, I just couldn’t turn my brain off.”
Your mother patted your cheek reassuringly. “You’re almost done, nena. It’s all going to go perfectly.”
You nodded, trying to believe her words. You just had this weird, nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong. There wasn’t time to focus on this feeling, though, no matter how much you wanted to. There was simply too much to be done. Accepting the hug your mother offered, you got up, ready to prepare yourself for the long day ahead.
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You didn’t really think anything of it when you didn’t see either of your sisters right away. You were busy greeting other people, family and friends. Some of Alexia’s teammates had made it, and you spent some time taking in the awestruck expression on Mapi’s face when she saw the singular photo of her included.
That was the best part of the whole thing, you decided. Getting to see everyone’s reactions to seeing themselves up on the wall.
The theme was people you loved, in their happy place. The project was joyful and fun, radiating happiness. Looking at the photos made you smile, and you were glad to see that everyone seemed to have the same reaction as they took their time looking at each image.
You had Mapi giggling at something Ingrid had said, a candid taken after a Barça game. Ingrid was smiling back at her, like making her girlfriend laugh was the only thing she wanted to do for the rest of her life.
You had your Mami, sitting in the stands of one of Alexia’s games, looking on with pride all over her face. You had her pinching Alba’s cheek, a fond smile on her face as your sister said something that was, no doubt, ridiculous.
You had your aunts and your uncles around the dinner table, all laughing hysterically.
You had your friends at the beach, all lounging and staring out into the ocean, looking peaceful.
You had your best friend sitting in the driver's seat of her car, singing along passionately to her favorite song.
More than anyone else, though, you had your sisters.
Alexia preparing to take a penalty, determined. Celebrating with her teammates after a goal. Cheekily blowing a kiss to Olga in the stands. Smiling proudly at Vicki after an impressive goal. Proudly wearing the captain’s armband in front of a completely sold out stadium. Leaned against Olga on the couch after a movie night, out cold. She was completely peaceful, with Olga looking down at her adoringly.
You had Alba at the school where she taught. Candids of her face, when one of her students got the answer right, or made her laugh. With her dog, holding him up at the aquarium, eye level with one of the dolphins. You had her watching Alexia play, too, a grin on her face that you were sure she was unaware of. Your favorite of Alba was a photo you’d taken in your Mami’s kitchen, while she’d been baking. Alba was sneaking a taste of the cake batter, and you’d captured her mid-wink, giving the camera a smile while Eli’s back was turned to her.
They hadn’t seen any of these photos; you’d almost gone crazy not showing them, and not giving in to them when they begged to see.
You’d finally managed to break away from a crowd of your friends, having a moment to yourself, when you realized that you still hadn’t seen your sisters yet. Ale’s teammates were here. Some of Alba’s friends were here. The whole family was here. You checked your watch, a frown on your face, seeing that they were both already over a half hour late, which was unlike both of them. It was only when you saw Olga looking up at one of the photos she was pictured in, all by herself, that you really got a sinking feeling in your stomach. She was talking to Irene when you walked over and interrupted, gently pulling Olga away from the conversation.
“Where is Ale? Is she coming late?” You asked, confused by the sad look on Olga’s face.
“No, nena, I’m sorry. She didn’t want to see Alba, so she decided not to come. I tried to convince her to, but she didn’t listen.” Olga said delicately. You looked like you’d been hit across the face, honestly, and Olga wanted nothing more than to march home and drag Alexia over here, but she knew better to try to convince the blonde to do something she had decided she wouldn’t. “She said she texted you?”
You pulled your phone out, taking a deep breath when you saw almost identical texts from both of your sisters.
Can’t make it tonight. I’ll come see it another time. Good luck!
Sorry, hermanita, I can’t come tonight. Love you.
You had been so excited for them to see their pictures. There was a little note up on the wall, too, a statement thanking everyone for coming. In it, you mentioned being excited to allow your sisters to finally see the photos, as they’d been begging to for a while now. And they hadn’t come.
A wave of embarrassment washed over you, your cheeks flushing red. You were angry, too, but you blinked your tears back, looking up at Olga and trying to look more put together than you felt.
“No Alba either.” You said, your voice cracking slightly.
“Oh, nena, I am so sorry.” Olga whispered, pulling you into a tight hug. It was too soft, and too comforting. You pulled away rapidly, shaking your head.
“It’s fine. I don’t care.” You said, cutting the brunette off before she could say anything else. “I have to go talk to someone, thank you for coming, Olga.”
You rushed away from your sister’s girlfriend, focusing on taking deep breaths. You couldn’t be sad, not right now. So many people had come here to celebrate you and your work, and you weren’t going to ruin it. You could be upset later. It was almost excruciating, pretending that you weren’t upset that your sisters hadn't come, but you managed it. You kept up a pretty good façade for the rest of the evening, even when you saw Olga speaking in hushed voices to Irene and Mapi, even when everyone kept asking where Ale and Alba were. You held it together. Because you, unlike them, could pretend that nothing was wrong for the sake of others.
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Your mother knew you better than anyone. You should have been thrilled, ecstatic. Everything had gone so well. Your photos had been a hit, the owners of the gallery had been thrilled. She realized neither of her other daughters had shown up, but she assumed they had talked that through with you. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with you, but when you declined going out with some of your friends as the night came to an end, Eli knew something wasn’t right.
She had every intention of letting you come to her, but you weren’t talking. As everyone began to file out of the gallery, saying their final goodbyes, Eli overheard you tell your friends you were going to go home because you were tired. You didn't say a single word to her aside from telling her that you’d see her at home, before you practically fled the building, heading for your car. She didn’t couldn’t imagine what was wrong, never expecting her daughters to have done what they did. Eli didn’t even think of them being a possible reason as to why you were upset. Mapi pulled her aside, though, before she could go after you, an infuriated look on her face.
“Do you know what your daughters have done?” She asked quietly.
Eli frowned. “No. What have they done?”
Mapi shook her head. “They both bailed on tonight over text to pequeña. They are in some stupid fight that they’ve put her in the middle of, and they didn’t want to see each other, so they didn’t come.”
Suddenly, Eli was quite furious at her eldest daughters. There would be hell to pay, she’d make sure of it. How could they be so selfish, and ruin your night like this? You’d been almost beside yourself for weeks about this night, and she knew the people you wanted to impress most were your sisters. And they hadn’t come. Before she yelled at them, though, she needed to go home to you, because she was very sure that you weren’t okay. Your odd behavior made sense, now, and Eli’s heart ached at the thought of you driving all by yourself while you were so upset.
“I will deal with them.” Eli said quietly. “Thank you for telling me, María, and for coming. It meant a lot to her.”
Mapi smiled sympathetically. “Of course. Let me know if you need help kicking some Putellas ass.”
Eli chuckled. “I will.”
She set off to her car after that, ignoring Alexia’s numerous phone calls. Likely, Olga had arrived home and laid into her for not coming, and Alexia was looking to be let off the hook from her Mami that she hadn’t messed up that badly. Eli wouldn’t be doing that.
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You didn’t make it far into the house. In your new dress, one that was reminiscent of the dress Alexia had worn to win her first balon d’or, you’d collapsed onto the couch, harsh sobs ripping their way out of your chest. You cried until your makeup ran and your chest hurt. Until your Mami arrived home, rushing through the door, her heart breaking when she saw the state you were in. Eli was by your side instantly, pulling you into her arms. It was rare that a hug from your mother didn’t make you feel better, but this was the case today. You weren’t really sure that anything would help, but you still buried yourself into your Mami’s arms, wishing more than anything that she could fix this for you.
“They didn’t come, Mami,” you sobbed.
“I know, mija, I am so sorry.”
“Am I not more important than their stupid fight?” You asked, looking up at your mother with a devastated expression on your face. “I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.”
Eli felt anger fill her at a level she’d never quite felt before. “I am proud of you, cariño, so proud of you. It’s all going to be okay, I promise. Everything is going to be fine.” She soothed, running her hand through your hair, shushing you softly. Her fury would have to wait, until you stopped crying. Eli would always put you first when you needed it, even if your sisters didn’t.
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It was late by the time you’d stopped crying and headed up to bed. With a soft goodnight to your Mami, you’d slumped upstairs, barely changing into your pajamas before you collapsed into your bed, absolutely exhausted. Being disappointed was tiring, apparently. And you were more disappointed than you’d ever been in your life.
Downstairs, Eli waited until she heard your door shut before she pulled her phone out, returning one of the 15 missed calls from her eldest daughter. Alexia picked up quickly, her voice dripping with guilt.
“Mami, I-”
“No. Do not try to explain yourself. You and Alba have done a terrible thing, Alexia. I am not sure how you will make it up to your sister, but you will. You will figure out how to fix it, you will apologize, you will mean it.”
“Sí, Mami.” Alexia said, her voice small like when she used to get scolded for kicking the football in the house or holding the tv remote high out of her sisters’ reach.
“I am so disappointed, Alexia. In you and Alba both.”
“I know, Mami.” Alexia replied, blinking hard to fight off her tears. “I’ll fix it, Al and I will fix it.”
“You will. Goodnight, Alexia. I love you.” Eli was furious, but she’d always say it, always make sure her daughters knew how loved they were.
“I love you too Mami,” the blonde choked out, feeling worse about this than she’d ever felt about anything in her entire life.
Eli called Alba next, who was significantly more clueless about the situation. Neither had known the other wasn’t going, but it was beyond your mother how either of her daughters could have underestimated how important to you this night was. Alba was in tears, like Alexia, by the end of the call, also promising her mother she’d fix it.
Eli knew the level of guilt Alexia and Alba must have been feeling at the moment, considering how protective they were of you. They never wanted you to be hurt, but you were. And they were the reason why. As she checked on you, ensuring you were asleep, she knew that her older daughters would go to the ends of the earth to make this up to you.
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Alba was sitting on her couch, willing herself to be the bigger person and pick up the phone to call Alexia, when she heard a knock at the door. The brunette knew who was there before she pulled it open, not flinching when her older sister was standing on her front porch.
Alexia had a drink carrier in one hand, and two bags in the other, giving Alba an unreadable look. “Can I come in?”
Alba nodded, stepping aside to let her sister in. The blonde headed for the living room, setting the coffees down, and grabbing hers out of the holder. Alba grabbed the other, noting that it was her favorite coffee, and her favorite breakfast pastry, from her favorite bakery. A bakery Alexia didn’t particularly like, but had clearly stopped at just for Alba.
It was a peace offering. One that Alba took, grabbing the coffee and the pastry, sitting on the couch next to her sister in a much less tense silence. They made up in the way only sister’s could, with no words necessary for either of them to know that the other was sorry for what had been said.
“We fucked up.” Alexia said after a minute, glancing at her sister.
“We really did.” Alba replied.
“We have to fix it.” Alexia declared.
“We really do.” Alba agreed.
“Are you going to keep agreeing with me, or are you going to come up with a solution here?”
“As the one who started the fight that led to us letting our sister down, I think it should be you who solves the problem, Alexia.” Alba retorted, a smirk on her face.
Her sister shook her head, shoving the brunette’s shoulder lightly. “You are supposed to be the smart one, hermana. Get thinking.”
“New car?”
“New house?”
“Can we buy her a country?”
They broke into laughter, the tension completely gone from the room, before they really got brainstorming. They were a good team when they weren’t fighting, and it wasn’t long before they’d come up with something that they hoped would make up for their horrible behavior.
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The minute you saw Alexia’s car pull into the driveway from your spot on the couch, you were standing up, prepared to flee the room. You’d known this would happen at some point today, but you weren’t ready to see them. You felt so humiliated and so neglected, you were sure that seeing them would have you in tears, and you didn’t really want to show that emotion in front of them. Not now, not when they were the reason you were so upset.
You knew how important family was to your mother, though, and you knew that if she told you to stay and talk to them, you would. Looking at her cautiously, you took in the wary expression on her face.
“Do you want to hear them out, mija?” Eli asked gently.
“No. I don’t want to see them right now. Please don’t make me.” You begged.
“I won’t make you do anything. Go upstairs, I’ll tell you when they’re gone.” Eli sighed, and with her permission, you practically sprinted up the stairs to your room, closing and locking the door behind you.
Your older sisters walked through the doors to the house like they were afraid of what awaited them inside, and it seems that they should have been. Eli stood from her chair, walking over to them, looking unimpressed at the large present in Alexia’s hands.
“Hola Mami,” Alba greeted softly. They both wanted to make this up to you, of course, but they also hated when their mother was mad at them.
“I do not think that buying her a present is going to fix this.” Eli said pointedly. Alexia and Alba exchanged nervous glances, relaxing slightly when Eli allowed them further into the house. “What is it?”
“It’s the new camera. The brand new canon model that she wanted, with all the extra lenses and storage and stuff.” Alexia said, feeling less and less confident about how she and Alba had chosen to go about this.
“And you think that is enough?” Eli asked bluntly.
“It’s a start.” Alba said, a bit defensively. “We know we messed up, Mami, and we missed the opening night but we can go see it today. Are you not being a little dramatic about this?”
Alexia shot her younger sister a look, knowing exactly how hurt you were, because Olga had returned home from the gallery and told her.
“You did not see her last night. When she realized you weren’t coming? She completely shut down. She talked to everyone she needed to, but I did not see her smile the rest of the night. She rushed out of the building just as the evening ended, and by the time I got home, she was sitting on the couch, sobbing. It was supposed to be her night, and you ruined it.” Eli snapped.
Alexia and Alba both looked appropriately ashamed, their heads dropping, gazes pointed at the floor in an almost identical fashion. They felt guilty, obviously, but Eli wasn’t quite sure they understood that it wasn’t just about them missing your event. It was so much more than that.
“She asked me why she is not more important to both of you than an argument. I do not want to spoil the gallery, but I do not think you understand how embarrassing it was for her to have countless photos of you two up on the wall, when you did not even come.”
Both her daughters’ heads snapped up at this. “Of us?” Alba asked. “The project was of us?”
“It was about her loved ones. You two were featured more than anyone else. She was so excited to see your reactions to the photos.” Eli continued, only making them feel worse.
“Please, Mami, I cannot hear anymore.” Alexia said softly, her heart aching at the thought of how upset you must be at the moment. Every detail that her mother added made it worse. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done anything like this to you before, and the thought that you might not forgive her was filling her with anxiety.
“No, you will hear all of it.” Eli said, shaking her head. “She said to me, ‘I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.’”
“We are proud of her, she has to know that.” Alba cut in desperately. Her mother just shook her head.
“She does not. Nothing she ever does feels very important to either of you, because it is always something you have done before. This was something that was her own, and she just wanted to share it with you. Everything your sister does is so that you two will be proud of her, and pay attention to her.”
At this, Alexia stood up from the couch, walking over to the window and putting her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent cries, and neither her mother or her sister were very surprised at the emotional outburst. Alexia was always emotional when it came to you; she remembered the day you’d been born, every milestone in your life. You were your very tough sister’s soft spot.
“Do you think we can fix it?” Alba asked quietly, terrified of her mother’s answer.
With a deep sigh, Eli nodded her head. Alexia turned around hopefully, hanging on to Eli’s every word. “Your baby sister has always been more forgiving than both of you. She is hurt, but she will forgive you. She loves you both too much not to.”
Every word Eli said felt like a bullet to the chest to both of your sisters, something your mother was well aware of. She wasn’t going to sugar coat this. It was silent in the room for several minutes, every member of the family lost in thought. Alexia looked furious with herself, Alba looked like she was close to tears, and Eli just looked disappointed. She’d always trusted your sisters to take care of you when she couldn’t, but she wasn’t so sure she had that confidence in them anymore.
“I have an idea.” Alexia said finally, looking between her mother and her sister hesitantly. They both agreed to what she proposed, though, and it wasn’t long before Eli had pulled out some paper and pens for her daughters. They both sat on the floor around the coffee table and got writing. It was reminiscent of when they’d do their homework in the same spot years ago, sitting on the floor so they could play with you while they finished their assignments.
Now, though, you were painfully absent from the scene in front of your mother, and Eli could only hope that this would work.
-------
Alexia and Alba agreed that only one of them would go upstairs, give you the two pieces of paper, and let you be for the evening. Alexia was desperate to see you, while Alba wasn’t sure she could do so without crying, and she didn’t particularly want to put that on you at the moment. You hated seeing your sisters upset, and she didn’t want to inadvertently guilt you into forgiving her before you were ready. So, Alexia made her way upstairs, agreeing to Eli’s warnings to leave you alone if you wouldn’t let her in.
Her knock on your door was uncharacteristically gentle, and her voice was almost shaky as she announced herself.
“Nena? Can I come in for a minute?”
Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, feeling rather satisfied to see the guilt all over her face.
Alexia stepped into the room, looking so nervous and so unlike herself. She was fidgeting with two pieces of paper in her hands, barely able to bring herself to look you in the eye. “I am so sorry, hermanita. More sorry than I can put into words.” She didn't seem to know what else to say, and you rolled your eyes.
“Do you think that is enough?” You asked.
Alexia shook her head rapidly. “No, I know it isn’t. Alba and I are going to fix this, nena, I promise. Whatever we have to do, whatever it takes. We will make this up to you. There is nothing more important to us than you.”
Your eldest sister could tell you didn’t believe her, the way you looked away from her was a dead giveaway.
“I know you are upset, and that is okay. I just… can I give you a hug, nena? You can still be mad at me and everything. I’d just really like an hermanita hug.” Alexia said vulnerably, tears clouding her vision. She had underestimated how painful it would be to see you so upset with her, but her chest truly ached as she took in the betrayal and disappointment on your face. A few tears fell from her eyes, and it was this bit of emotion that had you nodding your head, stepping forward as Alexia wrapped her arms around you almost painfully tight.
It made you feel better, even though it probably shouldn’t have. Your sister’s hugs always felt warm and safe, and today was no exception. Even though she’d hurt you. It was still Alexia, and she was a hard person to stay mad at. Still, you pulled away before you wanted to, and the blonde cleared her throat, holding out the pieces of paper for you.
“From me and Alba. We will be downstairs, if you want to talk.” Your sister opened and closed her mouth a few times, before shaking her head, mustering a weak smile, and leaving the room. She shut the door behind her, something she never did, always insisting on leaving it open just to bother you.
You opened your sisters’ letters, not quite sure what you would be reading. You weren’t quite angry anymore, just sad. You were never one to hold a grudge, but you weren’t sure how they were going to be able to make this stop hurting.
You underestimate, however, how well your sisters knew you, and combined with the information they had from Eli, they knew just what to say. You read both the letters a few times, tears streaming down your face for what felt like the 12th time that day. This time, though, they were good tears.
Both letters were similar, but very… specific to each of your sisters.
Alexia’s was practically a bullet pointed list, in her messy, big handwriting. There was a mark on the page that looked suspiciously like a teardrop, and Alexia talked about her emotions in the letter the way she always did in real life; saying as little as possible, while still somehow saying a whole lot.
Alba’s was a real letter, paragraph after paragraph of neat writing, beautifully articulating what she wanted to say to you. It was always a bit surprising to remember how perceptive Alba was. She was a forgetful person, but not when it came to the things that mattered. This was clear in the letter, as she listed small details out that you hadn’t thought she’d noticed.
Both of the letters were an apology. An apology, and a deep dive into how proud of you Alexia and Alba were. They apologized for not making it clear, before going back to when you were a baby, and they watched you walk for the first time. Through the years, they had overlapping and different memories of things you’d done that made them swell with pride. There were things you remembered, and things you didn’t, but they made you feel special all the same. Alexia and Alba did pay attention, that much was clear. Even if they weren’t always the best at showing it, they paid attention to you.
It did more than a verbal apology could have ever done. It was something tangible, kind, warm and loving. It made you feel loved, and seen. It made you feel like you mattered. You weren’t Alexia, and you weren’t Alba, but you were you, and they felt that to be something much more special.
You tried to hold out a bit longer, you really did, but you were putting the letters down and rushing downstairs before you could really stop yourself.
You passed the kitchen on the way to the living room, where your Mami was preparing dinner, a small, relieved smile on her face. Wishing you had something funny and unbothered to say, you walked into the room, seeing your sisters sitting on the couch, looking pathetically distraught.
“Hola.” You said softly, feeling indescribably happy when both of their faces lit up at the sight of you, and you quickly crossed the room, wedging yourself in between them. They made room for you, as they always did, allowing you to fit easily into your spot squished with Alexia on one side, and Alba on the other.
They each wrapped an arm around you, and both tried to pull you in opposite directions. It was ironic, the way they used you to play a silly game of tug of war. This time, however, they stopped pulling when they realized neither of them would win. Instead, they both wrapped you into a very awkward and suffocating hug, arms wrapped around you from seemingly every direction.
“I love you, nena.” Alexia whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
Alba did the same to your cheek. “I am so sorry, hermanita, and I love you so much,” she whispered.
“I know.” You said softly. “I forgive you.”
And if it had been either of them in your position, it would have taken a lot more. You were the forgiving sister, though, and you’d really just needed proof that your sisters thought that you were as important as you felt them to be.
When Eli came in the room a few minutes later, it was to see the three of you in a rather familiar position; you in the middle, each of your sisters holding on to as much of you as they could, completely content. They’d always like to hold you like that, starting when you were a baby. Alexia would carefully put you on the couch in between them, and put a movie on. They would take turns telling you all the important details your brain was far too small to comprehend, but you didn’t squirm, and you didn’t fuss. You would stay plopped right in between them, one of each of their fingers gripped tight in your hands.
It was a lot different now, because you were all bigger. It looked like an uncomfortable pile of limbs on the couch, but Eli knew you were all as comfortable as you’d ever get.
-------
Neither of your sisters seemed very willing to let you out of their sight anytime soon, which you were sure would grow annoying very fast. For now, though, you enjoyed the attention, especially when Alexia pushed the wrapped box that had been sitting on the table into your hands.
And, you’d already forgiven them before you’d seen the camera they’d bought you, one that you’d been desperately wanting for a while. If you hadn’t forgiven them, though, you would have now. You could be bought, and your sisters were well aware of it. As was your Mami. She rolled her eyes as you stared in awe at the camera, as Alexia and Alba looked on proudly, sharing a discreet fist bump. Personally, Eli thought you’d let them off kind of easy, but she shouldn’t have underestimated you. You were a youngest child, and you knew how to get what you wanted.
“Can we go see your photos after dinner?” Alba asked, not even getting a glance from you, your attention completely zeroed in on the camera in your hands.
“Nope.” You replied. Alexia and Alba looked uneasily at each other, and then at their Mami for guidance, before you spoke again. “Alexia, you are going to clean my room. And Alba, you are going to make me those cookies I like. We can go see the gallery tomorrow.”
Your face was smug, and your mother stifled a laugh as your sisters looked disgruntled at each other. Begrudgingly, though, they both nodded.
“Anything for the princess.” Alexia mumbled, and Alba snickered quietly.
“What was that?” You asked, turning your attention to your sisters. They looked at you in defiance, smirks on both of their faces, not willing to let you completely walk all over them, even if they deserved it.
“You heard me.” Alexia teased. “The baby princess always gets her way.”
“Really, Ale?” You asked calmly, before turning to Eli, your new camera briefly forgotten on the table in front of you. “Mami, do you have any plans in two weekends? I was thinking we could take a trip just the two of-”
Alexia cut you off by rather aggressively throwing herself at you, covering your mouth with her hand. “NO HERMANITA!” The blonde shouted. “Oh, gross, nena, really?” She groaned, pulling her hand away when you licked it. You smiled triumphantly, managing to push away from her a bit.
“You are not a princess, nena. Just a little baby.” Alba chimed in, reaching over from her chair to pinch your cheek in one hand. “Now keep quiet before you ruin the surprise and give Ale a stroke.”
Your mother shook her head, taking pity on her eldest daughter, who looked prepared to explode at the thought of the surprise being ruined. “Do you think I do not know you were planning a trip for the four of us, Alexia? Honey, you asked me several times if I was free that weekend, and reminded me not to make any plans then either. You also asked me for hotel recommendations, and pretended it was for you and Olga. You are a bad liar, mija. I have known for weeks.” Eli laughed.
Alexia frowned, shoving you and Alba both away from her as you both collapsed into giggles, despite the fact that this was entirely her fault, and you and Alba were blameless. She knew there was teasing coming her way, but the smile on your face was well worth it. Order had been restored, and both of your sisters had made promises to themselves, and to each other, to not let their arguments hurt you anymore. You were just happy to have them both there, at home. All four of you together, how it was supposed to be.
-------
it will really always be funny to me that my sister and i do not say the words "i'm sorry" to each other. like we'd both rather die than apologize. she could hit me with her car and i wouldn't want her to apologize because... ew. anyway sometimes having a sister is cool and sometimes its not but i love mine.
everyone applaud me for not splitting this into two parts. seriously i am astounded at myself right now.
hope you all like it :) give me all your thoughts.
#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso one shot#woso fanfics#alexia putellas x reader#putellas!reader#platonic reader
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i have been thinking a lot about mystra’s relationship with gale, how reducing her to “his ex” really is an understatement. she was and still is so much more than that. moreover, using the term “ex-girlfriend” in relation to her plainly feels wrong and diminishes the influence she has over him, as well as the role she played in his life since his childhood (and it also trivializes the abuse he suffered through her).
there are several instances where gale gets defensive when his companions mention or ask him abt mystra. he claims that their relationship was no less real even though most of their interactions were incorporeal.
we have already established that gale is an unreliable narrator in this particular case, still not having fully come to terms with the fact that he was groomed, manipulated and abused. he ping-pongs between bouts of realization (even in his romance), gaining clarity that he was merely used and eventually discarded and that mystra never truly cared for him, back to making light of his situation, idealizing her once again. realizing the extent of his trauma, that he is indeed a victim in this scenario, unlearning what he has been made to believe from a young age is a slow and painful journey. he is in the process of healing, but it takes time. time he deserves just like anyone else.
which makes me wonder what their relationship really looked like, once the lines between teacher, muse, and lover began to blur. i also feel like one of the reasons why part of the fandom still struggles to identify mystra as his abuser, is because she is a white woman who initially presents herself in a soft-spoken, benevolent manner… and well, the fact that gale himself is ambitious to a fault and a lil insane about the promise of power. he also briefly mentions "crossing mystra’s boundaries” when he confides in tav and tells them about his folly. (“i am, after all, the villain in this story.”) which led to a looooot of misinterpretations.
leaving the overall lore and mystra’s treatment of her other chosen aside — what we can discern from her interactions with gale in-game, is that mystra is civil as long as she remains in control and gale follows her demands, but as soon as there’s even a slight mention of challenging her power or defying her rule, she rather quickly changes her tone.
there is also one particular exchange between them that just won’t leave my head:
“you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a savior."
even if we choose to blatantly ignore the fact that mystra is a deity, his goddess - there is no possible way that their relationship ever could have been equal by any mortal standards. the power imbalance that comes with her being his teacher and a symbol of his admiration, plus the sheer control she holds over him and his powers are simply too great. don’t even let me get started on how it is a common tactic of abusers to isolate their victims from any outside influences so they can exert full control over them. and how up to meeting tav and their merry band of misfits, every single soul he was close to was inevitably tied to mystra in one way or another. he briefly mentions his colleagues and then there’s elminster, also mystra’s chosen and former lover, and tara, who is a fine wizard in her own right. he spend so many years in service of her, dedicating his life to her, that now there is no one left he can truly call a friend. most of his little anecdotes and stories he tells are restricted to his childhood and university days, everything else was mystra.
evidently, ordering gale to detonate the orb is the most efficient course of action in her eyes. he is just as expendable as any other mortal, after all. maybe once significantly more useful given his status and the extent of his powers, but she doesn’t feel sorrow nor remorse for ordering him to end his life. his death is simply the most convenient means to an end.
another thing i would also like to briefly touch upon is the trigger/detonator itself. a dagger to the heart. it could have been literally anything else, a simple incantation. it is well within mystra’s power to stabilize the orb and also to remove it from his body entirely. but no, what she requires of gale is to stab himself. one might argue that it was simply a cinematic choice meant for a more dramatic effect, but it really leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. especially considering the fact that she is commonly known and referred to as a jealous goddess. it almost makes it seem like yet another form of punishment or mere pettiness. after his long period of isolation, gale is now surrounded by fellow humans. people he cares about, even perhaps people he might eventually consider good friends — which is enough of a reason for him to not want to die, to keep going and try to find another way, rather than to blindly follow mystra’s bidding. now there’s a group of people who support him and are genuinely invested in him staying alive. hmmm...
#baldurs gate 3#bg3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3 spoilers#baldurs gate 3 spoilers#mystra#yes again ugh#i know we have been through this so many times#also another thing i forgot to mention:#apparently there are several ending variations where gale relinquishes the crown of karsus to her#but mystra only temporarily stabilizes the orb and doesn't remove it#huh#this was a long one sorry#bg3 meta#grooming cw#abuse cw
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i. don’t really know what to think about the whole forever situation. because i have seen people say “he’s addressed this a long time ago so why are we bringing it up” but i haven’t seen WHERE he’s addressed it in the past. nary a tweet or clip of anywhere he may have talked about it, but i would love to see an older clip of him talking about this if possible
I’ve seen people say “his tweets and messages were translated in bad faith to give english speakers a bad perception” which. ok yeah understandable but if that’s the case i still don’t know what exactly the situation is or how serious it is
“she was 13” “she was 15” OK WHICH IS IT!!! both are bad but one is still significantly grosser than the other and i don’t know which is true!! or are there multiple girls!!! i don’t know!!!
“he met a fan for flirtatious/sexual reasons” “he met a fan for normal content creator reasons” WHICH IS IT!!!! I DON’T KNOW!!! i guess only he and the fan would know what the intent was when they met, and even then i don’t know if they met alone or if it was a normal ass fan meetup with multiple other people there
“it’s been 7-8 years, he’s changed” ok. now we are making some sense. he has not exhibited this kind of behaviour in years it seems and he appears to be the kind of person who would not say or do these things now. no one is irredeemable and no one is beyond change. still, it is important for some people to know. many fans would rather know this and make the educated choice on whether to support him or not than continue to support him in blind blissful ignorance. even though it’s stressing me out and i’m still clueless about a lot of it, i’m glad i know anyway.
“what about the past transphobia and the ableism and the and the and the-” That Is Not Relevant To This Conversation. this is a different situation. he has apologized for his past opinions and everyone has had ample time to come to terms with them and make peace with supporting him despite his past beliefs.
“he’s deleting past tweets” i mean if someone was digging around my account for things i’ve said that i no longer stand by, i would delete shit too. sure as hell doesn’t make him look innocent but i would do the same. i HAVE done the same, albeit for much more minor and trivial reasons for posts i made when i was like 15, but still
“he apologized and said he’s getting a lawyer!! no guilty person would do that!!” your content creator is not an angel. guilty people take their accusers to court all the time and get away with it. also, it is up to everyone individually to decide whether to believe him or not. you cannot push others to believe your side but you can give context to some things
there’s nuance to this like there is with everything, and people are jumping to conclusions saying either “he’s an innocent little lamb how dare you!” or “he should be deplatformed and we should never speak of him again!” i will never fault anyone for supporting the alleged victim. if your decision is to stop watching him immediately or even stop supporting the qsmp itself, no one should ever fault you for that. it is ultimately up to you to make that decision. the situation is not clear enough for me to make a decision, so i will withhold judgement for now. i will not doompost about it, and i will not call out people for defending or dropping him.
but for the love of god, just. everybody keep your cool. especially english speakers, we may not have full proper translations for the messages and tweets. take a deep breath. if you want to find more info to form an opinion now and spread information that people don’t already have, go ahead. if you want to step back and not think about it for now, go ahead. there is no shame in taking a step back and thinking about other things. you are not morally obligated to be invested in this situation. you are not morally obligated to drop him immediately and you are also not morally obligated to keep supporting him just because he’s friends with your favs. stick to your gut and do what you feel is right. you will be okay. this is not the end of the world.
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The One That Got Away - By Katy Perry (CHAPTER TWO)
Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader
Prompt: "In another life maybe?" You mumble to the beast who clicked his tongue in return. Perhaps, he thought in his head.
A time when you first met.
Tags: Fluff, canon based plot with a slight change by the author (Cute Add-on: The Kimono he’s significantly known for is something that you gave him.)
Previous Chapter
Several days have passed since Sukuna last came face to face with you, and during this period, he has built up quite a notorious reputation for being responsible for Itadori’s death. Though initially he hadn’t thought of doing anything to fix it, the thought of never seeing you again annoyed him. “You could also say we’re in my mind. In other words..” Sukuna looks down at Yuji, watching the way he puffs his cheeks in an effort to prevent accidentally swallowing any of the liquid beneath him. “-we’re not dead yet. If you accept my conditions, I’ll fix your heart and bring us back to life.” – “Cocky bastard,” Yuji mutters, clicking his tongue. “You act all big, but I know you don’t want to die either.”
“The situation’s changed. In the near future, I’ll be able to see something interesting.” Sukuna thinks back to the moment he encounters you for a second time during his fight with Megumi, unaware of the grin that gradually spreads across his face. “I’d also like to investigate something further.” Itadori raises an eyebrow. “Investigate what? (Name)-san?” – “I have two conditions,” he states firmly, interrupting him before he could ask more. “One: when I chant ‘extension,’ you’ll hand over your body for one minute. Two: you’ll forget this promise.”
Itadori’s voice reverberated through the domain, a blend of uncertainty and frustration evident in his eyes. “No way, not after the shit you pulled. I’m not lending you my body again.” Sukuna, unimpressed, rolls his eyes in response. “Very well, then I’ll promise that I won’t kill or injure anyone during that minute,” he grumbles with exasperation. “Such a bothersome fool.”
–
You relax by the riverside, your feet dipping into the cool water as you let out a soft hum. Kazuyuki, who has been fishing nearby with his spear, glances in your direction, his lower body immersed in the flowing river. “I’m done,” he announces, wading towards you with purposeful strides through the gentle current. “I caught enough to feed both our families for at least a day,” he told you, his voice filled with pride.
You respond with a smile, acknowledging his efforts. “That’s wonderful! I wish I could do something to help..” Your friend, with a gentle smile on his handsome face, shakes his head in refusal. “There’s no need for you to worry. I promised your father that I would take care of you. All you need to do is rely on me.” Despite feeling grateful for his support, you can’t help but wish you had the chance to take on some tasks yourself. However, every time you attempt to do so, your own family members always intervened, insisting that certain responsibilities were not suitable for women.
“Are you coming along? Or do you plan on staying here for a while longer?” Kazuyuki asks the second he’s out of the water, wasting no time in drying his feet on the grass. “I’ll stay for a little longer, but I’ll be back before they notice,” you assure him.
He walks past you, playfully tapping your forehead along the way. “You better be, otherwise your Mom will go crazy and scold me again,” he warns with a chuckle. “Okay, okay.”
Waving him goodbye, you laugh and bid him farewell. He’d always cover for you whenever you wanted to extend your time outside, even though you never really had a specific reason other than to observe the gentle ripples of the river and the occasional passing animals. It was nice having him around.
Will your family pressure you into marrying him? Not that you minded, you have known Kazuyuki for a long time and he has been a constant source of support since the passing of your father. But.. there was always a certain element missing whenever you considered the idea of developing romantic feelings for him. Perhaps he was too kind? Or maybe your taste in men was just questionable? You’re unsure of the reason.
As your mind continues to drift, time slips away unnoticed. The sensation of the crystal-clear water caressing your legs brings you a sense of comfort, one that easily soothes your anxieties. Have you unknowingly developed a routine of sitting here until dusk?
In the past, you and your father would spend evenings here, relishing in the tranquility of the night and reveling in the emergence of fireflies. This place has always been a haven of serenity, devoid of any lurking threats in the darkness. It’s no surprise that Kazuyuki never objected whenever you wanted to stay longer.
-SPLASH
Your thoughts are disturbed by the sound of something struggling in the water a few meters ahead of you. ‘Ah-’ You rapidly stand up, watching as the bunny fights to keep its head afloat.
It’s not like you didn’t know how to swim; you were rather good at it. But, knowing this river by heart, it was deep in the center. An area that even your friend from earlier avoided trespassing. Was this how your night was gonna end? Either walk away and let the bunny drown, or even drown beside it? Luckily for you, the river had always maintained a constant flow, never picking up speed despite the change in season.
Curse you and your love for animals.
–
After some time, you finally manage to reach the opposite bank of the river, immediately exerting your remaining energy to hoist yourself out. You knew you could have easily swum across if it weren’t for the biting coldness of the water, but of course, tonight just had to be the night that the weather began to lower in temperature.
Letting out a sigh, you slowly loosen your embrace around the creature, expecting to see it peacefully huddled up against your stomach.
What you saw however, was far from what you had thought in mind.
There, it lay motionless on your lap with a deep gash that stretches across its stomach- Its blood flowing out as it stains your white dress. “Wh-?!” Overwhelmed with fear, you release the lifeless animal and instinctively retreat, leaving your hands smeared with mud from your frantic backward crawl.
“Tsk.” A disapproving sound reaches your ears from behind, causing your panic to come to a stop. A person? Out in these woods? Slowly, you pivot your head around, anticipating the sight of a stranger, someone human, only to be confronted by two pairs of eyes fixed on you from the shadows.
Before you can even let out a startled cry, he emerges from the woods, his massive, muscular frame fully visible under the moon’s gentle glow. “What sort of idiot would dive into a river for a mere creature?” he questions, propping one of his four arms beneath his chin as he surveys your distressed state, capturing every detail of your horrified expression in his mind. “I commend your courage, but your recklessness overshadows it all.”
“I-” Your gaze shifts back to the lifeless bunny lying on its side, a pool of blood slowly seeping from its belly. “It’s dead, I thought-” Just as you begin to express your disbelief, your attention is diverted to the sound of his steps coming closer, his presence commanding your full attention. With a firm grip, he forcefully grasps your chin, compelling you to meet his piercing gaze. “-that you could save it?” You nod. It was impossible to ignore the intricate tattoos that adorned his skin, his bare upper body on full display. From your vantage point, he appears almost godlike, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon, his features illuminated in a way that accentuates his otherworldly aura.
Sukuna observes the way your countenance softens, -softens? He furrows his brows in confusion. With a tilt of his head, he asks, “Do you have any idea who I am, you fool?” As he applies more pressure with his fingers, the expression of fear returns to your face, almost amusing him to the point of laughter.
From the way you part your lips to the curious look in your eyes, it was obvious that you were unaware of his identity. He swiftly withdraws his hand, causing you to lose your balance momentarily. “Consider yourself lucky as I am feeling generous today, leave before I change my mind,” he declares, turning his back to you completely.
Though afraid, you build up the courage to respond, fearing that the freezing water might hinder you from safely swimming back. “But-” His audible sigh interrupts you, compelling you to lower your gaze from him. “..I don’t think I can go back. The water’s too cold and I-”
However, the moment you lift your eyes from the ground, you find yourself staring at his back from the opposite side of the river.
What?
.
.
.
Your mind struggles to connect the dots. Weren’t you a few feet away from him just a second ago? He doesn’t give you a moment to react before he starts walking away, shrugging off your pleas for him to wait.
“Thank you!” you yell, watching as he disappears into the dense forest. Never before had you encountered a man who resembled him. Was he even human? Could you even consider him one? Then again, you refrain from passing further judgment, considering that you live in an era where sorcery was quite prevalent. It was plausible that he too possessed magical abilities, especially with what had occurred just now.
-
That was the first time he had ever crossed paths with you. Nearly every night, you constantly stayed out late, secretly crossing to the other side of the river using a boat you had convinced Kazuyuki to position by the shore prior to your plan. Questions of who he was, and what kind of power he had, urged you to keep coming back despite his lack of appearance. Never once showing up after that one fateful night.
Was it your Family’s Cursed Technique that he could sense from you what made him prolong the action of wreaking havoc to your village? Or was it your curiosity that makes you overlook the potential danger in order to meet someone who appeared as monstrous as he did. Whichever it was, he’d be lying if he said that watching you frantically make attempts to see him again wasn’t entertaining, not that he’d ever admit it. After all, It was almost too pitiful to look at.
On the twelfth night, he emerges, scoffing to himself at the way your face illuminates with sheer delight upon catching a glimpse of his figure. Although he has encountered numerous individuals who initially react in a similar manner, their expressions quickly transform into terror once they recognize him as Ryomen Sukuna, the formidable ruler of curses.
Naturally, their admiration proves to be short-lived as they inevitably inquire about his name, prompting them to flee in fear. Though, their attempts to escape were futile, for they soon became a macabre feast for other curses, their lifeless bodies strewn across the ground.
Your gentle voice pierced through the silence as he drew nearer. “It’s you, I thought I’d never see you again,” you confess. He cocks a brow, finally coming to a conclusion that you really must be stupid. “And, well-” You take a step back, nervously adjusting the bag you had brought with you. “As a token of my gratitude, I wanted to offer you something.”
Ah,
Sukuna grins sadistically, relishing in the anticipation of your reaction once you finally realize who he truly was- Would you scream like the rest? Or would you stand there in shock, unable to mutter a single word.
You take out what seemed like only fabric from your bag, Was this all you had to offer him? Ridiculous. -making sure to clean off any dirt that may have gathered while you were occupied with rowing the boat. “It’s nothing much, but I hope this is okay.” What would you do if he were to rip it apart right before your eyes? He licks his lips, the idea alone causing him to clench his fist in an attempt to stay calm.
However, as you carefully unfold the layers of fabric, a beautifully crafted white kimono adorned with delicate blue trimmings is revealed, causing his train of thought to come to a halt. “As a kid, my mom used to teach me how to make these.” In that moment, a perplexed expression replaces his previous demeanor as you proudly exhibit the garment. “-and I thought since I didn’t see you wearing anything that night, I should make one for you as a thank you gift for helping me cross the river. It might not fit too well, but I made sure it was open sleeved, that way you can just have it over your shoulder if you don’t wanna wear it properly.”
.
.
.
A heavy silence enveloped the space between the two of you, intensifying the eerie ambiance created by the distant sound of crickets chirping in the background. Does he not like it? You frown, your confidence from before slowly being chipped away from the sight of his brows furrowing. Doubts crept into your mind, wondering if he disliked the gesture you had made. Perhaps his lack of response was intentional, a deliberate choice on his part. The realization made you feel foolish and self-conscious. “It’s fine if you don’t want it, I’ll just bring it back home,” in an attempt to rectify the situation, you hastily try to stuff the kimono back into your bag.
“No need.” You meet his gaze once more, uncertainty vanishing from the sight of one of his hands stretching out. The commanding tone in his voice as he utters the words, “Hand it over,” left no room for argument.
Perhaps he’ll entertain you a little longer.
Next Chapter
Author’s Note: I rushed this shit so it’s not as good as the previous chapter. (Sorry for that, had to deal with some assignments from college) The next one will be way better. Just wanted to make a cute head-canon of how you gave him his well-known Kimono that he still wears.
Tag list: @arysbruv @anakinishotdoe @enyathedrakaina @anmath @lannabarroso @sanrolii
#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna fluff#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you
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caught in the rain ( jaemin )
genre : fluff
word count : 0.9k
summary : your plans with jaemin change due to some gloomy weather
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“yaaah! go, go, go!”
jaemin’s voice bounces off the brick alley walls as you two try to escape the sudden heavy rainfall, hopping over puddles as if you were avoiding landmines in a battlefield. rain falls from the sky angrily, but you both giggle joyfully, finding your situation reminiscent of a rom-com you once watched. jaemin reaches back for your hand, not daring to leave you behind, and tucks you under the side of his jacket.
you two were off to visit the park and take photos together, but you hadn’t made it very far from home before the sky opened up, dampening your plans — and yourselves, of course.
after finding solace on the porch of your apartment complex, you admire jaemin’s (now drenched) appearance. droplets of water form constellations in the dark fringe that hangs in front of his forehead. you watch as one trails down a strand of his hair, eventually falling onto his nose then pooling in the dip of his cupid’s bow. you think he looks gorgeous, and by the way his eyes take you in adoringly yet speechlessly, you know he feels the same about you.
“rainy day in today then, yeah?” he smiles.
after shuffling off your squeaky shoes at the door, you gravitate toward the space heater, wasting no time to seat yourself in front of it and absorb its warmth. jaemin hangs his coat on a clothing rack to dry before he catches a glance at you, chuckling as he finds your crouched form adorable. he grabs a throw blanket from the couch and stretches it across his arms-width, wrapping you in it from behind and squeezing your shoulders gently in a hug.
“you warm enough, love?” he frowns, concern evident in his tone. you're sure he can feel the slight shiver dancing over your body.
“i’m okay, jaem,” you assure him, leaning back into his embrace. “how are you, though? you took most of the hits from the rain out there.”
“had to keep my angel dry,” he assures with another squeeze around your shoulders. jaemin stands, leaving the blanket draped around your shoulders. he wipes a few stray raindrops off his neck and cheeks and you spot the dark splotches of water that paint his clothing.
it's almost ridiculous how handsome he still looks despite the downpour he was caught in. he shakes his head and combs his fingers through his hair, styling it almost flawlessly, as if the rain was a professional hair gel product.
“i’ll go get us sweatshirts, yeah? then let’s cook something to warm us up," he suggests.
jaemin retreats into his room and reappears with two of his crewnecks. still sitting on the floor, you look up at him with doe eyes. he leans over you and motions for you to raise your arms, cooing at you, then pulls the sweatshirt over your head. jaemin loves to treat you like royalty, performing even the smallest acts of service to make you comfortable. and it makes you melt every time.
once he throws on his own sweatshirt, he takes your hands and lifts you to your feet. together, you pad into the kitchen, splitting apart only to gather the various ingredients and utensils you need to make your favorite stew. you're filling a pot with broth to boil when jaemin snakes his arms around your waist, pressing his body to yours from behind and lightly kissing the sensitive area on your collarbone.
“i’m sorry we didn’t get to go to the park today, baby,” he mumbles into your shoulder. once he notices you’ve set up a cutting board on the counter for him to help dice the vegetables, he detaches himself from you and begins working promptly.
“we can always go another day,” you smile, bumping his hip with yours as you let the sound of chopping fill the space between you.
after a few moments, you notice the sound get significantly quieter. with a quick glance up, you notice jaemin has stopped cutting the vegetables to stare at you. his eyes are wide and the corners of his lips are pulled upwards in an adoring grin.
“jaemin, you’re going to hurt yourself if you aren’t paying attention,” you scold him earnestly, but your cheeks still heat up with his unwavering gaze.
“i’m being careful, i just wanted to look at your face,” he hums. “you look so cute when you’re focused.”
finishing the meal preparation with a blush painting your cheeks, you set the table and light a few candles while jaemin separates the steaming stew into two dishes — he always insists on being the one to plate your meals.
you never notice, but every time he secretly gives you a bit more, always wanting to make sure you’ve eaten enough.
sweet talk and the heavy rain thumping on the windows make up the soundtrack to your dinner. jaemin’s hand rests on your knee while you enjoy your meal together, and you feel so at peace in your kitchen — the warmth radiating between your loving gazes is enough to make you forget about the cold, gloomy weather outside.
#nct dream#jaemin#nct imagines#nct x reader#nct scenarios#nct drabbles#nct fluff#nct dream imagines#nct dream x reader#nct dream scenarios#nct dream fluff#jaemin imagines#jaemin x reader#jaemin scenarios#jaemin fluff#nct jaemin
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Azriel x reader
A night in a shared hotel room leads to confessions of love.
Word count:2260
Warnings: possessive Azriel, some suggestivness at the end
I joined the night court long ago, I don't really remember what happened but I was only just an adult when Rhys, Azriel and Cassian found me stumbling about in the snow with no memory of how I got there. They took me in and I found good friends among the court as they became my family. Finding my own magic and skills. I am fast and strong able to beat most in a fight. People learn the hard way not to underestimate me.
Groaning I follow Az into the battered inn shaking the snow from my clothes and feathery wings. The fluffy flakes have stuck to some of the feathers meaning I have to manually brush them off. Azriel stomps back over a singular key dangling from his hand "They only have one room." I shrug shivering "Long as its warm I don't care."
He huffs slightly and starts up the stairs having to stoop under the doorway. The room itself is tiny Az taking up a shocking amount of space, it consists of a small bathroom and a small double bed squashed against the wall and a dresser with a rickety looking chair but its clean and relatively warm.
I am too tired to argue about anything and drop my bag on the dresser peeking into the bathroom there is no way I can fit in the bath with my wings let alone Azriel who is significantly taller. I remove my jacket and begin to fill the sink with no hot water I make it quick scrubbing the dirt from my hands an arms before leaving the bathroom for Azriel.
I hear the water start followed by a large bout of swearing. I bite my lip to stop my laugh I forgot to warn him about the hot water situation. Minutes later he emereges hair dripping and shirtless. "Little cold?" he glares but light shines in his eyes so there is no malice behind it. I tuck my wings in and sit on the edge of the bed "I don't mind sharing. The floor is far too cold."
Az doesn't respond so I turn onto my side getting as close to the wall as I can so he has plenty of space. The bed is not built for those with wings let alone someone of Az's size, the bed dips significantly under his weight making me laugh as I slide into his side "Hello." he rolls his eyes slightly and adjusts his weight so the mattress evens out once more allowing me to move back to where I was.
The room is freezing the thin blanket offering little warmth. I fall into a light sleep exhaustion winning over. Before I fully wake I feel a sense of warmth and content moving closer to the source of heat I find its difficult to move a weight on one of my wings.
Blinking I find I am facing Azriels chest, it takes a moment to fully comprehend our position. One of his wings is under my side another draped over the top while my own almost mirror wrapping around him. His shadows are also wrapped around the both of us twining our limbs together. Azriel grunts slightly his whole body stretching out and I freeze terrified of moving. I'm trapped until he moves his weight.
I look up and find Azriel already awake staring straight back his face bright red. I think its the first time I've ever seen him blush. We both try and pull apart in a tangle of limbs failing completly when he ends up on his back with you sprawled on his chest faces inches apart. Blushing furiously you scrambled up managing to free yourself and fall onto the floor. Knowing how much he struggles with physical contact you stand "Az I'm sorry I didn't. I don't."
He stands combing a hand through his hair still visibly blushing"Its fine." His shadows are dancing around the room wrapping around my legs and arms chuckling slightly I glance down heat instantly rushing to my face as I notice Azriel's situation. Quickly I return my gaze to his face "I'm going to change." Hurridly I enter the bathroom filling the basin with water to splash on my face.
Its true you I have always harboured a crush on the stoic illyrian. He is handsome, kind and though people rarely see it has a wonderful sense of humour. Everything about him draws me in but I have never said anything not wanting to ruin our friendship. It took Azriel longer than the others to trust you but I spent a lot of time proving yourself to him.
Taking a deep breath I exit the bathroom finding Azriel fully clothed and surrounded in shadows. "Bathroom is free." he nods not saying a word as he finishes packing. I pack my own bag slowly and officantly putting my two short swords into place finished by the time Azriel reappears shaking water from his hair I smile slightly "Looks like the storm has passed we should be back in Velaris by this evening."
He nods and grabs his bag remaining silent. I put it down to embarrasment and don't pry following him silently out the room and out into the woods. There is a clean blanket of snow over everything the tiny ice crystals blinking in the sunlight. I smile brightly and expand my wings taking off into the early morning sky the soft flakes fluttering slightly as I move.
Az joins me in the sky the two of us heading towards Velaris. Cassian is first to greet us at the house of wind grinning broadly "Welcome home." before either of us can react he has thrown a snowball hitting Az square in the face. I bite my lip coughing to hide a laugh as Azriel wipes the snow from his face scowling at his brother. A shadow whips out wrapping around his ankle sending Cassian crashing too the floor.
Mor and Rhys walk into the room Rhys shaking his head looking dissapointed "You are back less than five minutes and already fighting?" Cassian grins standing up "I couldn't resist." Mor rolls her eyes "Didn't you get it all out your system last week?" Rhys chuckles "Cas is still sore that he lost. Az, Y/N anything to report?"
We both shake our heads and he nods "Excellent I still want a written report for tomorrow though." Cassian grins "Get caught in the storm last night?" I smile "We stayed at an inn. Didn't want to risk flying in it." he nods solemnly "Very wise." I roll my eyes at him shooting a smile at Azriel "I'm going home I'll send my report this evening. Bye Cass."
Cassian waves flopping down on one of the sofas while I fly home and sink into the bathtub glad for the warm water and space. Changing into comfortable trousers and shirt I sit at my desk and write out my report sending it directly to the house of wind by magic.
Azriel seems to be avoiding me over the coming days at training, dinners always finding excuses to leave the room when I enter. After a week the others begin to catch on Cass and Rhys cornering me after a dinner "What is going on?" I stare up at them confused "Sorry?" Rhys sighs "With Azriel."
I sigh rubbing my forehead "I have no idea. Every time I try and talk to him he finds an excuse to leave. Believe me if I knew what I had done I would apologise for it."
Cassian raises a brow "So hes ignoring you for no reason?" I sigh "I don't know he's been ignorning me since the inn..." Cassian gasps "Did something happen with you two?" I shake my head "No, nothing really. There was only one room left so we ended up sharing a bed but nothing happened."
Rhys grins sharing a look with his brother before leaving I watch them leave confused before shaking my head and heading home. Unlocking the door I remove all jewlery and kick my shoes off to the side jumping when there is a knock at the door.
I open it slowly finding Az his shadows dancing around him as he fidgets with his hands "Azriel?" I cross my arms sighing "Ready to explain why you've been ignoring me? Look if I did anything to offend you I'm sorry. I..."
"You haven't done anything." I must look shocked as he sighs deeply "I'm sorry. May I come in?" I step back allowing him in before shutting the door leaning against it. Az looks uncomfortable his shadows constantly moving around as he shifts his weight.
"Az what is going on you've been ignorning me since the Inn." he sighs taking a step closer "I didn't handle it well I'm sorry. I feel very strongly about you but never wished to pressure you into anything. I know you don't feel the same way..."
"Don't feel the same way," I laugh "Az I'm crazy about you." his face blanks and I take a step closer "Is that why you've been avoiding me? You thought I didn't like you?" He shrugs his shadows winding closer and I can sense there is something else he isn't telling me. I step closer taking one of his hands in mine slowly tracing the scars.
I look up meeting his gaze, he leans down slowly almost nervous as his lips brush against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck his sliding around my waist deepening the kiss. Heat floods through my body electricity shooting through my veins as something inside clicks into place something that feels like home, like a piece I've been missing. I don't know how I missed it my mind becomes clearer Azriel filling every gap.
My whole body sings mate. Azrael wraps his hands under my thighs pulling me up, I wrap my legs around his waist every fibre of my body wanting him, needing him. He pulls away pupils blown growling low "Mate." both of our chests are heaving as he leans in kissing me again moaning against my lips. "Mine."
I moan in response pulling away for air brushing hair out of his face his shadows twining around my arms tickling my skin, I frown kissing him gently this time "You knew didn't you?"
He nods grip tightening on my thighs as he backs me into the nearest wall "I knew from the moment we first met." he presses a kiss on my jaw working his way along speaking between kisses "I have loved you for years never knowing how you felt."
"I never told anyone." I run my fingers through his hair pressing kisses along his cheeks "You kept it to yourself all this time?" he locks his gaze with mine shadows playing with my hair "When you didn't react to the bond I thought I was wrong. But the longer I spent around you I knew I was correct. When ever you weren't around I missed you, when ever Rhys sent you on a mission I worried. I felt drawn to you at every moment wanting too kill any male who got too close."
He runs his hands up my sides "I wanted to tell you. I didn't know how." He kisses my cheeks "I'm shouldn't have kept it from you. I understand if you're mad." I smile blinking back tears "I'm not mad Az. I love you. Have loved you for years."
He tilts his head to the side "Why didn't you say anything? I thought you where ignorning our bond its why I never acted on it." I shake my head tighting my grip on him "No. Az I had no idea. You really thought I was ignoring you?" I sniff willing the tears not to fall "I could never do that to you. I promise you I didn't know. I think it something to do with my memory loss but I don't know. All I know is that you are mine. My mate and I love you with every fibre of my being."
Smiling softly he leans his forehead against mine shutting his eyes "My soul belongs to you Y/N L/N. Every part of me is yours." I cup his face bringing his lips to mine in a soft kiss pouring every ounce of my love into it before pulling away grinning "I believe I owe you a meal." he shakes his head slightly peppering kisses down my throat "Later."
I smirk pushing him away "No we are going to do this properly. You can control yourself for a little longer spy master." I nip at his ear making him growl while you jump to the floor walking through to your kitchen. Azriel slinks after you his shadows wrapped tightly around me waist carassing every inch of skin that is visible while I try and focus on what I am doing.
"Y/N you are testing my patience." I chuckle and turn around an apple in hand "And I thought patience was your strong suit. Do not fret spymaster I have no desire on making you wait." he glowers but takes the apple I offer biting into it and chewing painfully slowly.
He doesn't bother with the rest placing it on the counter smirking "Now I have waited long enough mate." his voice drops dangerously low as he backs me into the counter giving you a look that makes you weak in the knees "You are all mine." ...
#x y/n#x reader#acotar#azriel#acotar x reader#batboys#sarah j maas#azriel x reader#azriel x you#a court of thorns and roses#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin
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𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄
summary: losing your virginity can be daunting, even more so when you’re dating the avatar of lust; luckily, asmo is only interested in making this as comfortable for you as possible
pairing: asmodeus x afab! reader (gn pronouns)
warnings: nsfw/ minors dni, slightly angsty (insecurities) but with comfort, porn with a hint of plot, loss of virginity, corruption kink, use of toys (vibrator), fingering, asmo being a demon+ demon form! asmo, soft!asmo, consent king asmo, cream pie/ unprotected sex, use of petnames (sweetheart, darling, love, hon/honey), marking
this is a repost because i'm moving my nsfw works onto this blog!!
obey me! masterlist
Being with Asmo was borderline perfect; he was an angel of a demon, if you overlooked his crazy parties and the tendency to voice just about every dirty thought coming to mind. With you though, he was always gentle and very patient. Sure, Asmo being Asmo, he has always been very straightforward about how much he wanted you, both in- and outside the bedroom, but he had always reassured you that he loved you no matter what and was willing to wait for you to be comfortable with taking things further.
Truth was, you had never had sex before, something you had told him early on, even if it meant setting your own face ablaze with embarrassment. So the thought of being this inexperienced while your boyfriend was the literal Avatar of Lust had anxiety ball up in your stomach.
Said demon, however, had only cooed at you, pulling you into a soothing hug before confessing that he was already aware of it but that he very much appreciated you being so honest with him. That was the day you learnt lust demons apparently had a knack for spotting if someone was a virgin or not and you considered crawling into a dark cave and never coming out again.
You had, however, decided against it and had continued your life in the Devildom as usual… well as usual as a human living in literal hell could be. After your conversation with Asmo, you had found yourself lying in bed at night, your thoughts swirling around the cute demon and quickly drifting into more sexual directions, especially on days where you’d spent a lot of time with and around him. Faintly you had wondered if his charm worked on you after all, but you had tossed the thought aside with your panties as you tried to scratch the desire inside of you, desperately trying to bring yourself to a high with your fingers but only ever ending up frustrated between your crumpled sheets.
Perhaps motivated by your denied pleasure, you had stammered out you were ready to take your relationship to the next stage, making Asmo pause scrolling through Devilgram and turning his entire attention on you. Your hands had felt clammy as they curled into his plush comforter and you had avoided looking at him but soon thereafter, soft fingers had grazed your chin and pulled you out of your own head and back to the demon looking at you with so much love and adoration in his sunset-coloured eyes.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he had said as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. “It means a lot to me.”
After making sure you didn’t feel pressured into this decision, Asmo had sat you down and worked out what you felt comfortable with, what didn’t appeal to you at all and what you weren’t sure about, all under the rule of being subject to change in the future. He had also asked about any experience you had, whether that was using your fingers or if you owned any toys. Upon hearing you used to have one but that it was still up in the human realm, he had playfully suggested going shopping for a replacement. Despite having nudged his side at the comment, you really appreciated him taking the time to understand your situation and you felt significantly less nervous about your inexperience after talking to him.
Against what some might think of him, Asmo had not tried to jump you the second you had given him the go ahead, no. Instead, he treated you to a relaxing self-care evening to ‘scrub away the stress that must have come from making that decision’, letting you soak in his grand bathtub, sharing his expensive creams with you, painting your nails and doing face masks with you.
In fact, it wasn’t until you were lying on his bed another night, curled up in his warm embrace while watching a film, that anything changed at all. It wasn’t even that the scenes on screen were particularly spicy but something about being so entirely surrounded by him, whether it was his sheets, the scent of his shower gel clinging to his skin or his cologne drifting up to your nose from the shirt you had snatched from his closet, made you crave the demon lying behind you.
“Asmo,” you crooned, shifting to face him as he hummed at your call, bright eyes blinking down at you curiously.
“What is it, honey?” Using this chance to sneak some affection, he leant down to let his lips wander over the juncture where your shoulder met your neck, inadvertently encouraging the desire starting to pool below your navel.
“Do you… do you remember what we talked about when we had that spa evening last time?” You gingerly asked, skirting along the edges of the topic at hand.
“We talked about lots of things.” His chuckles vibrated against your collarbones. “You have to be more specific than that.”
“You know what I mean!” You whined. “Are you really going to make me say it?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to or I might be getting the wrong idea, darling,” he said, tongue trailing your soft skin and amusement clear in his voice. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“I- I think you might be getting the right idea,” you stammered, your heart beating out of your chest to the point you were afraid it might jump right into his hands. Not that it wasn’t already lying there in a metaphorical sense, at the point of melting as he poked it to his liking with his perfectly manicured hands. “Asmo…”
“Hmm?~” This time the amusement in his voice was apparent, the demon not even trying to hide it.
“Kiss me… Please…” Your whisper was quiet as your eyes skirted down to his glossy lips, before flicking up to his again as one of his fingers traced the curve of your bottom lip.
“So polite~” You watched his stunning eyes slide to half-mast as he leaned in, stopping right as his lips brushed yours, just to tease you even more by moving his head back and making you subconsciously chase his lips. He chuckled airily. “Guess I can’t deny a sweet thing like you, especially when you ask so nicely.”
Then he connected your lips seamlessly, enveloping yours in a pillowy softness you’d only ever find in dreams. Slowly, his hand found its way to the back of your head, nails massaging your scalp gently as he angled your head the way he pleased to guide the kiss. When his tongue swiped languidly over your lips, coaxing you into allowing him entrance, Asmo skilfully pulled the first moan out of you and swallowed it eagerly.
You ran a curious hand up his chest as he deepened the kiss, pure passion radiating off of him and seeping into your brain, jumbling your thoughts around like clinking marbles. With your mind fogging over with lust, it was all too easy for him to roll you over, slotting himself on top of you, careful to not put most of his weight on you.
Following his eager hands running down your sides, Asmo’s lips, too, trailed downwards, leaving lipgloss smudges all over your jaw, throat and collarbones. You couldn’t see it, your eyes closed as you basked in his attention, but Asmo’s downright glowed in his dimly lit room as you tilted your head to the side and bared your vulnerable neck further to him.
“Oh sweetheart, you’re so good to me,” he crooned, as he licked his lips, drinking in the sight of you, hair dishevelled, collar of his shirt pulled down and his gloss shimmering against your skin. It was a sight that could only be improved upon by getting you to writhe in his sheets as strings of pleasured moans spilled from your lips. Oh, Asmo could already feel his fingers tingle at the image, a shiver running down his spine in anticipation. Well, the best way to get you there would be to get you au naturel first.
Playful fingers crept under the hem of his shirt, dancing along the growing sliver of skin he was exposing, his pearly white teeth showing in a fanged smile at the goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch.
“You’re too cute for your own good,” he mumbled, almost dazed, as his lips attached to your skin once more, tongue darting out for a first taste, one that made him groan low in his throat and crave more. “So sweet~ How did a darling thing like you fall into the hands of an Avatar of Sin? I bet every demon down here would love to sink their claws into a human like you. But too bad, you’re all mine. All mine to taint.”
The whimper the demon pulled from you as his nails traced over the sensitive skin of your stomach was pure music to his ears and he’d be more damned than he already was if he couldn’t hear any more of your sweet sounds. Though, this night was about you. He’d make sure you were comfortable, that your first sexual experience with someone else would be pleasurable. After all, once you had a taste, he was sure you’d come back to him for more all on your own.
“Darling, can I take this off?” He tugged on the hem of the shirt that was already halfway up your chest. When you only nodded with pleading eyes, he giggled at your enthusiasm but still caught your chin with two fingers. “Sorry, love, but that won’t do. I need your genuine, verbal consent, even if we’ve done this before. Doesn’t matter if I have to pull it from your pleasure-clouded brain later on as long as it’s the truth. So you better memorise that fast, alright?”
“Yeah,” you breathed out as he placed a quick kiss against your temple. Your fingers pushed a soft strand of champagne-coloured hair out of his face, giving you a better look at his slightly dilated pupils before you spoke again. “Help me take my shirt off, please?”
“Sure can do,” Asmo hummed before carefully sliding the garment over your head and arms. When you’d snuggled into bed with him earlier, you’d foregone a bra for the sake of comfort and, now, skilled fingers immediately traced the path of your collarbones, down your sternum before cupping your breasts. “See how perfect these look between my hands? It’s like they’re meant to be worshipped by me.”
It wasn’t the first time you were nude in front of Asmo and it also wasn’t the first time he’d touched you. From bathing together to choosing an outfit, he’d always been a very hands-on kinda guy, as long as you let him. It was, however, the first time where he was working you up for more with his touch and it made your lungs constrict with equal parts nerves and excitement.
If that hadn’t been clear from how he massaged the supple flesh between his palms, it would have definitely been understood when his pink lips wrapped around one of your nipples, fangs slightly indenting the skin around it, while his fingers rolled the other one between them. Despite the new sensation, it felt good, your hand finding its way back into his hair, carding through the strands as you exhaled slowly.
When Asmo was happy with the marks he left all over your chest, he licked over some of the deeper bites, even if he never broke skin at any point, before trailing kisses further down your centre. By now, there was no lipgloss left to smudge, no matter how kiss-proof it was supposed to be.
Reaching your hips, his sharp teeth caught the waistband of your pyjama pants, snapping the elastic back against your skin when he pulled away to slide the remaining garments down your legs, again with your approval. Gliding his smooth hands up your bare legs, parting them as he resumed his position between them, Asmo guided your thighs to rest over his. The compromising position had heat curling in your abdomen and your heart rate speeding up without him actually touching you yet.
“Is this alright, darling?” He checked in with you, head coquettishly tilted to the side. “Although there’s no need to be nervous, I want to remind you that we can stop at any point, okay?”
“I know,” you confirmed. “But I want this, Asmo. I want you.”
“My, my, you certainly know what to say to make me excited. Look at you, you look so beautiful with your legs spread out for me. Oh this is going to be so much fun, I’ll make you feel so good.” While he was speaking, his fingers had already wandered up the inside of your thigh, his touch so light you barely felt it against you, yet it had the most tantalising effect. Especially when he skirted around the sensitive area of your core, never quite touching where you needed him most, your hips wriggled for more friction on their own. Something Asmo shut down with a playful tut and a hand pushing you back down, his demonic strength making itself known. “Ah ah ah, sweetheart. We agreed that I’d guide you through your first time, right? So be good and behave and I’ll give you exactly what you want~”
“Asmo, please don’t tease me.” Despite your words, you couldn’t deny that it felt good. Not when you could feel the way your slick started to coat your folds the more he stroked his nails around them.
“But you look so cute like this, I have to indulge just a little,” he giggled. Then, without a heads up, he swiped his thumb through your slit, catching some of your arousal and smearing it over your clit with scary accuracy. Surprised by the sudden stimulation, you let out an audible gasp as your hips twitched in his hold. “Ooh, that was a gorgeous face. Show me more.”
Without much resistance, he slid one finger inside your entrance, savouring your warmth around him before setting a steady pace and checking your reactions. When there was no discomfort from your side, he soon added a second one, changing the angle every now and then to map out your body.
Getting to work yourself definitely didn’t compare to how Asmo curled his fingers inside of you, the experience of someone else in charge of the movements providing a level of excitement you didn’t have on your own. And while it clearly wound the knot in your stomach tighter than ever before, it still wasn’t enough to get you there and wisps of anxiety slithered past the cracks in your lust.
Shouldn’t this feel amazing? Shouldn’t you be at the point of shamelessly moaning his name by now? But if you couldn’t even orgasm like this, with the Avatar of Lust between your legs, was there something wrong with you? What if—?
The pressure of his thumb running circle eights against your clit effectively cut off your string of doubts as you inhaled a sharp breath, clenching down around the fingers working your insides.
“You’re overthinking again, love. Lust isn’t something you think about, you just feel it. There’s nothing wrong with taking your time, we’re both learning together here.” Asmo leant down to pepper a few kisses around your navel, his voice patient and gentle before picking up a little mischief. “But if your brain decides to be mean, I might just have to shut it off completely.”
That promise certainly made you clamp down harder on him, a shiver running down your spine in anticipation. In turn, Asmo let out a laugh as he eased his fingers out of you, his eyes fluttering shut and a lewd moan bouncing around the room as he cleaned his fingers off with his tongue. The sound would’ve made you rub your thighs together if Asmo’s waist wasn’t preventing you from closing them.
“I didn’t want to overwhelm you on your very first orgasm but I promised I’d make you feel amazing and I’m holding myself to that.” With a snap of his fingers, something small and pink appeared in his hand, something you identified as a small vibrator. To test the waters, he let the thing buzz to live before gently rolling it closer to your sensitive areas. “You don’t mind this little buddy joining us, do you?”
When the vibrations rolled against your clit, you opened your mouth with a surprised noise, your knees locking his hips in between them. “N-No I don’t mind.”
The demon downright purred in satisfaction as he brought his fingers back to your pussy and resumed his thrusting, still experimenting with the angle and the settings on the toy. Your mind was starting to race again as he hit a different spot inside you and focused the vibrator on a different area and-
“Oh!” You threw your head back into the pillows, one hand digging into Asmo’s hair, the other into his sheets, as you locked your feet over his butt, his pact mark tingling against your skin. The spasming of your hips was reigned in by the palm holding the vibrator when your back arched off his mattress and your teary eyes clenched shut. Your lips parted in an ‘o’ shape as laboured breaths and rhythmic moans passed through them.
The sight of you giving into pleasure had Asmo’s hips rolling into the bed of their own accord in time with your walls fluttering around his digits, the lust oozing from you as you approached your high making him near delirious with power.
“Is that it, darling? Is that the spot?” He moaned, his dick straining against the fabric of his underwear as he kept the pace and angle of his thrust consistent, his mind swimming with desire for you, fuelled by the pleasure he was already giving to you. “That’s it, you’re doing so well, you’re almost there. You look so gorgeous falling apart on my fingers, such a perfect human, giving yourself to me. Come on, cum all over my hand, I know you want to.”
You followed his voice through the fog like a sailor following a siren as he pushed you further and further towards release, your stomach clenching and unclenching without any rhythm now. If you didn’t fall over the edge soon, you thought, you’d truly go insane over the foreign pleasure he made you experience, his hands not letting you wriggle away from the intensity.
Then, with a loud moan of his name, bliss washed over you, from your thrown-back head to your curling toes and it made everything worth it. You could feel the pleasure sizzling through your veins like molten lava, melting your bones and leaving you to writhe on his sheets.
Asmo continued to languidly pump his fingers, coaxing as much arousal from you as he could while the vibrator was still buzzing on the lowest setting until you pushed his hands away when the overstimulation started getting to you.
Leaving you to catch your breath and return to your body, Asmo held eye contact with you, sunsets half-lidded before fluttering shut completely when he brought his fingers up to his mouth. Like he’d done earlier, he cleaned your slick off of them, but this time his moan was obscene as he pressed his hips down into the mattress, his tongue flicking out provocatively as he licked in between his digits.
“Mhm, just as I thought, you taste divine~” Asmo’s tongue flicked over his lips, catching every bit of your desire clinging to them. “It’s hard to find a delicacy like this in the Devildom, so sweet I could eat you right up. Next time I’ll have to help myself to a proper taste but I know what you really want right now.”
Pulling your centre flush to his hips you could feel his erection through the smooth silk of his pyjama shorts, the material soaking through with your release immediately and clinging to your folds as he rubbed his dick against you. Both of you sighed in unison at the welcome friction; gone were your anxious nerves, you needed to feel him inside of you now. And you weren’t above telling him either.
“Asmo, please, I need you so bad,” you whined, hands trying to reach for him but merely grazing over his hips. “I want you so much, please.”
You watched him shudder at your begging as his hands reached to unbutton his sleep shirt, the pink silk slipping off his shoulders, slowly revealing more and more of his flawless skin. He was basking in your undivided attention on him, making sure to pose perfectly to give you a show, despite having you in his bed already. It was working in his favour though because, as the light framed his champagne locks perfectly, he could see your eyes rake all over him and your fingers twitching to feel his skin against yours.
He took his time sliding his stained bottoms off, revelling in the way your lips parted as his dick slapped against the planes of his abdomen. Just like the rest of him, it was perfect. Flushed a light pink towards the tip with a few veins decorating the shaft, Asmo was just the right amount of length and girth to make your mouth water and walls clench around nothing, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.
“Like what you see, pretty?” He teased as he settled back above you, his natural body heat enveloping you once more as he leaned up to press more open mouthed kisses along the path of your collarbones, throat and shoulders, his tongue darting out to taste the salty flavour sticking to your skin.
Warm hands caressed your hips in soothing circles as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the gesture so gentle in contrast to the words being spoken against the shell of your ear. “So beautiful, so sensitive, so soft, I can’t wait to ruin a pretty thing like you. All you have to do is relax and indulge; you can do that for me, right? Just give in to the pleasure, give in to me, and let me do the rest.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, dazed by his close proximity, “I can do that.”
“Such an obedient human, you make me so proud,” Asmo cooed. Shifting his weight onto one forearm, his other palm slid down your body, wrapping around your thigh to hike it over his waist. The position allowed him to thrust his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick and catching your clit on every forward motion.
This time there was no mistaking it, his eyes did glow in the dim room, shifting between your bodies and your face, your mewls of stimulation and the tears clinging to your lashes drawing his attention effortlessly. Without resistance, he let you pull him down for a deep kiss, one full of passion and want and need, mirroring perfectly how your hips had started bucking up against him.
Swallowing each of your breathless noises, Asmo parted from you by tugging on your bottom lips, fangs digging into the plushness. “Are you ready? If anything makes you uncomfortable, tell me immediately.”
When you gave him the okay, he positioned the glistening head of his dick against your soaked entrance before taking his time to push past the first tight ring of muscle. He let his head drop forward as your warmth enveloped him, whereas you threw yours back against the pillows at the stretch.
There was a slight sting as he pushed in further but it was completely drowned out by the addictive feeling of being filled. You couldn’t believe you went so long without his veins gliding against your velvety walls, clinging to him as if they tried to remember his shape only. If this was lust then you understood why Asmo as its embodiment was so entrancing and alluring.
Said demon exhaled a shaky breath as he bottomed out, his hips flush with yours, willing himself to hold still as you adjusted to his size. Throughout the centuries, he’d thought he’d made just about every experience he could, always making sure whoever he was with had their needs met. He’d charmed countless humans, demons and one or the other angel alike, tumbled into their beds and fed off their lust, satiating both himself and them.
But there was something different about this. This night, there was seemingly no end to his desire; he craved more, he needed more of you. Of you and your lust. Just like when you shared your power with him, there was something about the sin dripping off of you that made it hard to control himself.
Luckily, you were just as impatient to feel more of him as he was, every initial inhibition thrown out the window. Instead, you pressed the heel of your foot into his lower back, encouraging him to go even deeper than he already was. “Asmo, move, please…”
Not needing to be asked twice, he pulled his hips back until only the tip remained inside before thrusting all the way back in, setting a slow but deep pace that had you twisting in his hold. Using the knowledge of your body he’d gained earlier, he had no problems hitting your most sensitive spot dead on to see your back bow in sheer ecstasy.
Embarrassed by the lewd moans and whines echoing around his room, you bit down on the back of your hand, trying desperately to muffle the sounds, only for Asmo’s fingers to curl around your wrist and pull it away again.
“None of that, darling, I want to hear you. You sound so cute with my name on your lips like it’s the only thing you can think about, don’t deny me this pleasure.” He punctuated his sentence by delivering a particularly hard stroke to tear a sinful moan from you as he intertwined your hands, squeezing down on your fingers as you clamped around his cock. “Besides, if anyone gets to bite you, it’s me.”
Now, with your hand pinned beside your head, all your noises were spilling freely, combining with the sound of skin slapping and the obscene squelch of your cunt fluttering around Asmo’s girth to create the most beautiful symphony. Your body felt like it was on fire, the demon burning you from the inside out as beads of sweat started rolling down your temple when the clenching of your walls around your lover started gaining in frequency again.
Trusting you to keep your hand away from your mouth, Asmo slipped it between your bodies, circling your clit and pushing you to greater heights than before, encouraging you to cream all over him. Losing yourself in pleasure, your sentences became more incoherent, all rationale seeping from your mind.
“Oh my god! Asmo!” You wailed at a specific thrust that made your knees jerk against him, free hand tugging on the roots of his hair, clamping down harder at his melodic groan that followed.
“Praying to a demon? What a naughty human,” he chuckled, voice now a lot more strained, his focus entirely on working you up further. “You should’ve learnt by now not to tempt a demon but you’ll see where that lands you.”
The knot in your stomach was so close to snapping, various muscles already flexing under the onslaught of pleasure. You just needed a little more.
The Avatar of Lust was almost in disbelief at how close he was himself. Normally he had better control than this, able to outlast just about anyone if he so desired. Yet, on this night, control was slipping from in between his dexterous fingers faster than he wanted to admit. Seeing you shed your inhibitions and submitting yourself entirely to him and his sin, however, was driving him wild. The ecstasy cursing through your pact only added to the sensation. It was entirely different to any other fling he’d had over the centuries.
Asmo was positively drunk on you, the essence of your lust flooding his senses and making him tremble where he pressed you deeper into the mattress. Pure power was clouding his mind and every one of his nerve endings felt like lightning was passing through it.
There was a rustling in the sex-heavy air as his leathery wings unfurled behind him, flapping with each jerk of his hips. Claws were digging into the skin of your thigh as he tightened his grip on you, no doubt leaving little imprints to find in the morning. Your hand in his hair now closed around the base of one of his horns, feeling the ridges of each segment dig into your palm.
When he went back to sucking on the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, sharp fangs scraped against the skin of your throat, a silent reminder of the true nature hiding behind his bubbly personality. Yet, the notion that one of the most dangerous demons of hell was currently so close to all your most vulnerable areas didn’t scare you. If anything, it was exciting.
Before you could do so much as warn him, you seized up around him, pushing yourself as close to Asmo as you could when you came with a loud moan of his name on your lips. Wave after wave of sinful bliss washed over you, pulling you in whatever direction they pleased, like a shaky leaf on the tides.
The sensation shot straight through your pact and down Asmo’s spine, his hips stuttering as he groaned so low in his chest it almost sounded like an animalistic growl. You felt like a doll with its strings cut, boneless and floating as he rode out your orgasm while chasing his own, following no rhythm but still teetering you on the verge of overstimulation.
With one final snap of his pelvis, he pushed himself in as far as he could before searing hot ropes of cum painted the depths of your insides white. Rolling his hips, he coaxed the last bit of pleasure from both of you, then collapsed on top of you to catch his breath.
For a few seconds, only the sound of your shared breathing could be heard, heartbeats in sync against each other’s chest as Asmo lazily pressed more kisses along your skin, especially in places where he’d left a visible mark. You were in return carding your fingers through his sweat-matted hair, tracing the curve of his horns gently with your fingers. The sensation made him giggle.
“That was a first for me, too,” the demon admitted, sounding not at all shy about it.
“Hm? What was?”
“I don’t usually slip into my demon form without meaning to,” he answered your curiosity. When bright eyes met yours, there was so much adoration shining in them you were glad your knees couldn’t physically buckle. “But you looked so beautiful and felt so amazing, I was transforming before I even knew what was happening. More importantly though, what about you? I sure hope I could live up to the expectation.”
“No, you far surpassed it,” you chuckled. “To the point where I seriously doubt anyone else could make me feel this way.”
“That’s good,” he mused, wiping away a stray tear drying on your cheek. “I’m hardly a possessive guy but with you it’s different. The thought of someone else seeing you like this, of you moaning someone else's name, bothers me. I want to be the only one driving you to sin in this way.”
“I think that can be arranged,” you hummed playfully. Leaning down, you gave the crown of his hair a loving peck and he laughed into the crook of your neck.
“Come on, darling, let’s get you cleaned up,” Asmo cooed, carefully pulling out of you and taking a moment to appreciate the visual of his cum dripping out of you and onto his sheets.
Holding out his hand for you to take, he waited as you uncurled yourself from the bed, gingerly swinging your legs over the side of the mattress. Only to almost greet the floor as your wobbly legs gave out underneath you as if they were made out of jelly. Despite being busy laughing, Asmo still caught you effortlessly, supporting your weight before sweeping you entirely off your feet and carrying you to the bathroom bridal style. Again, his slender build betrayed his true strength, lifting you as if you didn’t weigh much more than a feather.
“Oops, I should’ve warned you,” he sing-songed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Although you flatter me, you could’ve just told me I fucked you good enough for you to lose the ability to walk.”
“Stop making fun of me!” You whined, hands coming up to hide your face, which might as well be set ablaze from the heat rushing to your cheeks.
“Oh I’m not making fun of you, sweetheart. You’re just so adorable, I can’t help myself,” Asmo laughed that airy laugh of his. When you looked up at him, his half-lidded gaze was already on you as he licked his lips, fangs peeking out as you noted he still hadn’t shifted back into his more human form. His voice dropped as he studied the way your throat convulsed when you swallowed.
“In fact, you’re so sweet, I just might make good on my promise to eat you up once I get you into the bathtub.”
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Sorry if this is a bad question, but do you think the Palestinians can keep their gains? I know this is an important win psychologically no matter what happens next, but is there any chance for changing the borders on the map?
Sorry if this naive or not relevant to the actual events
no its very relevant! Really too early to tell I think, at the absolute minimum I think this conflict could last several weeks, wouldn't be surprised if longer though. Either way the entire regional politic has already been changed forever, and I'm sure there will be defacto territorial change one way or another
Main factors/possibilities (rougly sorted in terms of my perceived importance/likeliness) imo:
A) level of coordination that Al-Qassam & other militants taking part have (idk what comms they'd really have available at this point, particularly with the blackout) as well as how robust logistical supply chains are for deliveries of weapons, personnel, and ammo, but to start out w 5,000 missiles in 20 minutes (though israel claims 2,500) definitely indicates a major degree of planning & coordination, probably months in advance if not more - so many contingencies were probably accounted for
B) how much Hezb'ullah enters the offensive, even pinning down a couple battalions around Sheba farm or the broader Golan heights can be a pretty pivotal, but if they actually are able to take territory that changes things significantly
B-2) how much non-muslim groups in lebanon accept hezb'ullah joining the offensive - israel can escalate here & potentially fracture the offensive by staging a ground invasion/aerial attack into Lebanon, as long as non-muslim groups read that as "because hezb'ullah instigated it" instead of as israeli aggression on them. I have no read on lebanese public opinion here so idk.
C) Whether the Syrian SAF steps up strikes against israeli occupational military targets in the Golan Heights in the next couple days
C-2) amount of explicit coordination between Hezb'ullah & SAF
D) how the situation develops in the West Bank - expect a lot of retributional violence by Israeli civilians here.
D-2) Abbas & his govt have already taken quite a strong stance where they dont quite endorse hamas' operation, but put blame squarely on Israel - if West Bank escalates decisively they might take a much stronger stance.
E) How many israeli political prisoners Hamas has taken (israel has admitted to 130, hamas says "more than dozens") - PIJ also claims 30, how important they are, & how many of their own civilians Israel is willing to potentially kill in order to achieve broader military objectives.
E-2) If Israel arent willing to do that, then that also means a lot of their vaunted air force is largely useless here & combat will largely take the form of urban street battles, which tend to favor irregular insurgent combatants (esp when the regular army is used to unquestioned aerial supremacy)
E-3) what happens during the land invasion of Gaza (said to happen in about 24 hours, and something that would be surprising if wasnt expected by hamas), which is likely prompted by the large number of detained political prisoners. If this ends without something that can be spun as a clear victory for IDF, then this will be a major demotivating factor against their international perceived strength & massively increase morale among palestinian militants & civilians
F) If gazans are able to make a land bridge to the West Bank, then things are going to escalate in a significant way. Sderot is right now the frontline here, about 20 mile straight shot
G) how much more of the barrier around the Gaza strip is able to be destroyed, particularly at checkpoints
I) if the Saudis officially announce a pause in normalization talks
I-2) if other factions in the House of Saud take advantage of the mass-unpopularity of normalization with israel among saudi citizen (ie not immigrant labor) population (~2% support support among saudi youth according to Arab Youth Survey 2023 https://arabyouthsurvey.com/wp-content/uploads/whitepaper/AYS-2023-WP_123_English.pdf - seems like a fair assumption this isn't limited to the young). Even absolute monarchies have limits in terms of unpopular choices.
H) how much of a united front palestinian refugees (across the region but in Egypt & Jordan in particular) are able to mount & what political ends they're able to force pressure on - Sisi has rhetorically genuflected to Israel being the one to provoke escalation while also condemning both sides, but Jordan's Abd'allah has pretty much stuck to both sides so far
H-2) If the youth survey is a good proxy, Jordan would likely be the one where the governing regime would have most difficulty avoiding taking a stand against israel (~6% in favor of normalization)
J) if Israel officially declares military operations against Iran, then that's going to be a major escalation path.
J-2) More likely imo will just step up operations particularly in Iraq against shi'a militants, not sure they'd really want to escalate in Syria at this exact moment
K) how long the Netanyahu-centered Unity Govt takes to form, especially how much Gantz tries to push himself into the center
L) How much the US/european politicians publicly supports israel rhetorically & with guns without public pushback (that's where posting can actually help, particularly politicians). Right now the political class has basically all fallen in line in support of Israel, so normalizing discourse in support of palestine does do something, particularly if it has quantifiable achievement like BDS (particularly S)
M) Now is also when israeli civilians protesting against the corruption of their government would make the most difference. Strangely the recurring protests have been canceled. lol.
Z (wildcard)) Ansar Allah (houthis) or other non-coalition yemeni militant groups start an offensive against the Israeli-UAE occupation of Socotra. UAE alone is still militarily powerful and islands have obvious defensive advantages but scrambling to coordinate a rebuff of Israeli military positions all that way away would definitely start to strain logistics
#probably missing some important factors im not thinking abt here feel free to add on#land invasion of gaza is most imprtant specifically re land control i think#maybe azeri invasion of armenia proper would strain iranian logistics is another potential factor#but that only depends on how much of a role theyre playing now that the offensive has started#doubt theres much minute to minute communication
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One of my complains in the TWST designs is that most of their designs have the same hairstyles. I understand short haired people like Kalim, Deuce, Trey, and many more, but people with long haired like Jamil and Leona because I literally can see them having the same hairstyle in most of their designs especially their fairy gala concept designs on them having a different hairstyles (I can think of their overblot designs, Jamil's fireworks, and Leona's pe wear). At least Idia has different hairstyles with his overblot design, glorious, and ghost bride which makes it unique, even Vil has his hairstyle change notable with him sometimes having his hair bun or only part of his hair braided. It feels like those with long hair have a unique potential to have a different hairstyle.
Mmm, I get what you’re saying 🤔 and it is sad that we couldn’t get some of the gorgeous hairstyles shown in the Design Note (like the Leona and Jamil images above!)… The potential is definitely there!!
I think it’s not always feasible for the devs to give characters different hairstyles for new cards (especially for a cast of 22)?? They’d have to do rigging for the models every time there’s a significantly new look, and it’s just easier to go with the same hairstyle to save time and effort, or a preexisting hairstyle (such as Leona’s ponytail). (They’d run out of ideas really quickly if they did attempt new hair frequently anyway 😂 and maybe even get themselves trapped in a situation where new hairstyles are expected and then they can’t deliver…) There’s also the possibility that the team does consider new hairstyles but then just settle back into the default because they genuinely think that’s the most fitting look to go with the outfit (or they don’t have the time/resources to implement it, which brings us back around to my original point; I imagine this is the case even moreso because TWST has increased the frequency of new cards as of late).
If I had to guess, they probably save the more unique looks to use sparingly and for situations where it makes the most sense to have new hairstyles. This includes Vil who is fashion forward, Idia who has hair so long it has to be reasonably contained somehow, sports club kids who need to keep their hair out of their faces while they practice/play, and/or very formal occasions where they have to look special like Ghost Marriage. The Clubwear line of cards in particular seems to feature new hairstyles for many of the boys (though not all), so there’s that to look forward to? Plus all the fan art of alternate hairstyles made by passionate TWST fans!!
Personally, I don’t mind too much that we don’t get tons of different hairstyles in the game. There’s just enough variation to keep me on my toes and pleasantly surprised whenever there does happen to be a change in the status quo ^^ 💇♀️
#twst#twisted wonderland#Leona Kingscholar#Jamil Viper#Vil Schoenheit#Idia Shroud#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#notes from the writing raven
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Star-Crossed pt.4/? | Lo'ak x human!fem!reader (NSFW)
Warnings: once again, both Lo'ak and the reader are 20y/o, , MINORS DO NOT INTERACT with this or anything on my accounts. NSFW!!! this is the smut chapter. Nothing else. you can still skip this without losing any plot of the story.
words: 2.3k
summary: the reader is a human left behind on pandora, she grew up with the remaining humans who'd been allowed to stay on the planet after the war and has been friends with the Sully clan her entire life. She and Lo'ak were best friends until he began to pull away from her in their teen years for seemingly no reason. This story is about them reconnecting on the day of her twentieth birthday, and dealing with the feelings they have for each other and the obstacles that come with them being from two different worlds.
part 1 part 2 part 3
tag list: @aleromania , @ghostjoohoney, @cherry-blossom34, @stephenandfiveswhore , @neteyamforlife, @mochi-yu , @halibanana @notquitehero @vanillacoffeeaddict @kitsune0077 @mara-brekker @sully-stick-together @luthien-naenderthal @phantomalex14 @vanillawhale @omiivr @barbii04 @grierpilots @itszzmoon @wavyteals @punkrockrogers @fanboyluvr @Iwesodra @roguesimagination @kathrynlupin @anxietydrogz @b0rednb1tchy @xkaykay
Lo'ak was aware of the 'fight or flight' response that was said to be experienced by humans and other animals on Earth. Grace, Kiri's biological mother, had written entire journals about how, amazingly, Pandora's inhabitants went through something slightly different . It seemed that the entirety of the 'flora' and 'fauna' of Pandora was so interconnected, a prey knew whether it was time to run to live another day or give in and die, and predators also could sense whether or not a life should be spared once in a while. It was all to due with the balance of life, that Eywa so dutifully protected.
That didn't mean that the non-Na'vi dwellers of the planet did not feel fear or a basic strive for survival. Simply, that Eywa would sometimes intervene to give the two parties a way to reach an understanding.
Lo'ak was more than certain his human side was keeping him in a state of paralysis at that moment. But he didn't think that being intimate with his human better half was the sort of situation Eywa could give him insight on.
Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. He'd never even once considered the possibility that y/n reciprocated his feelings. Over the years he'd done his best to steer clear of any sort of... compromising thoughts he may have had of her — though he wasn't always successful.
Fortunately, she'd always seemed to prefer to wear significantly more clothes than Spider, but that had also left Lo'ak with a seemingly infinite number of questions.
"It's okay if you've changed your mind, Lo'ak..." y/n said softly, snapping him out of his reverie. She covered her chest and turned to look for her shirt again, suddenly feeling rather self conscious about the way she looked. She'd taken Lo'ak's silence and stillness as rejection.
The Na'vi quickly chased her lips for another kiss, whispering a thousand apologies to her in his native language. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. How could she not see it herself?
Lo'ak tentatively let one of his large hands leave y/n's cheek. It caressed her flushed neck, the dip of her shoulder until it finally came to cup the weight of her breast. Y/n could still feel him hesitate with every step, even shaking a little from how much he was afraid of hurting her. "Like this..." She guided Lo'ak's fingers, showing him all the different ways he could tease and tug at her nipple. "D-doesn't... doesn't that hurt?" Lo'ak attempted to recreate the motion on her other breast, now playing with both.
Y/n shook her head, desperately getting rid of the rest of her clothes so she could take care of the throbbing ache between her legs. Lo'ak had gotten surprisingly good at fondling her breasts in record time, and she wanted to show him exactly what he was doing to her. In between the middle of moaning his name and taking care of her aching cunt, she got a glimpse of the almost feral way he was staring down at her.
Lo'ak was drinking in every single detail of y/n's tiny body, dwarfed even more now that she was writhing in his lap. The second he saw her glistening pussy, an almost shameful wave of jealousy overcame him. He wanted to be the only one to ever see y/n that way, to get to pet her sweet little cunt. It was all his, and y/n could read it in his extremely dilated pupils.
"Everything okay, yawne?" Y/n panted sweetly, searching for another kiss. "You know I like it when you talk to me..." Lo'ak immediately showered her with more kisses, hating himself for stalling yet again. "No--yes... you just... you have a very pretty... syulang..." He said, his ears bending down in embarrassment. It took y/n a few beats to understand what Lo'ak meant by 'flower', and her cheeks felt quite warm at the realisation.
"I mean... all of you is... perfect. You're perfect." Lo'ak said with slightly more determination in his voice, hoisting y/n up in his arms so he could leave a kiss above where her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. She let out a keening sound when he took her left nipple in his mouth, still incredibly attent to being as gentle as he could. Y/n let him take his time exploring her, and Lo'ak worshipped her body until she was a trembling, moaning mess in his arms.
Y/n wanted to do the same. She wanted to run her hands over every single part of him. But it was kind of difficult when Lo'ak had her laid out on her back while he kissed and licked his way between her folds, seemingly unaware that he was going at a torturously slow place. Y/n begged and whined, but she was too far gone to even know what she was asking for anymore. Meanwhile, Lo'ak was completely intoxicated by her taste, keeping one of his large hands on her stomach so she wouldn't jump while he used his tongue to toy with her clit, always making sure to not as much as graze her with his teeth.
"Lo'ak, please..." Y/n let out a small sob, and Lo'ak looked up, sheepishly pulling away from the literal paradise he'd discovered between her thighs. "Did I hurt you?" He asked, but she furiously shook her head. "No... not that, yawne. Just, please... want to touch you..." It didn't matter that she'd been edged for so long, she suddenly didn't know how to ask Lo'ak to use his fingers. Or something more, which he wouldn't do anyway.
"But I like making you feel good..." Lo'ak didn't know how to say he'd been painfully hard and leaking just from eating her out, but now that y/n was sitting back up, there was no way she couldn't see his arousal. His loincloth was doing a rather poor job of hiding how much he wanted her. "I can't get enough of the way you taste..." He said in a shaky breath, cupping y/n's sex to feel the wetness there. She instinctively squeezed her thighs around his hand and he understood.
Lo'ak knew y/n used her fingers to play with herself, but his own were considerably larger and longer. How could she possibly take them inside of her? "Please, yawne, I need you..." She coaxed him to relax once again with her words, getting rid of the last clothes that were separating them. Y/n took in the sight of Lo'ak's large cock standing proudly, and curiously began to touch him with both hands.
Then sight of y/n's smaller hands tentatively trying to work his erection almost made Lo'ak go cross-eyed. "W-what are you..." He cursed, burying his head in y/n's neck when she began to play with his head, using her thumb to put the exact right amount of pressure as she teased the sensitive tip in quick circles.
Y/n bit her lip and giggled at the deep purring sound that came out of him. Almost as if to get back at her, Lo'ak slid one of his fingers deep inside of her, following the warm curves of her inner walls. Only when y/n let out a loud moan of relief, did he fully realise what he was doing. "Fuck, Lo'ak--" She reprimanded him softly for giving her no warning, but quickly began to rut herself down onto his digit, finding a rhythm at was good for her while squeezing down on the base of his shaft with both her hands. The pressure almost made Lo'ak see nothing but white.
What had he been so afraid of? The two of them were clearly attuned to each other's needs, and he never wanted to stop giving y/n pleasure like the one he could hear in her voice at that moment. Lo'ak began to curl his finger inside of y/n, before tentatively pumping it in and out of her while she held onto his neck for dear life.
It didn't take him long to understand where most of her pleasure was coming from, so he took matters into his own hands. Literally.
"N-no, no..." She whined when he took his finger out, but he kissed her, silently telling her not to worry. Lo'ak got them back in their original position, with him lying on his back and y/n sprawled out across his stomach. He ran his hand down her spine, and she lifted her hips up a little when she understood, letting him hook his fingers into her cunt from behind while he kept a firm grip on her ass.
Fingers. Because she was now taking two of them. And beautifully too, if Lo'ak had anything to say about it. He'd never seen her so completely lost in herself; and there she was now, giving in to the white heat of the fire he could feel inside of her. It was almost too much. Every desperate cry, every languid rotation of her hips, every scratch she left on his body, wanted to make him take y/n for himself. He wanted to see if she could sing just as beautifully while bouncing on his cock. But he knew exactly how dangerous those thoughts were.
He held y/n impossibly closer to him and pumped in a third finger along with the rest. Y/n's face contorted in something Lo'ak could not explain, but before he could stop himself, she was stilling in his arms. Her walls clamped down on his fingers, gushing around them. Y/n's body went as still as a rock as she tried to ground herself through her orgasm, suddenly feeling very cold and high on adrenaline at the same time. She needed Lo'ak to hold her tight.
The last thing she would have ever expected was for her lover to give out a horrified wail that she herself felt tear through his chest.
Y/n was bleeding. He'd made her bleed. "I hurt you." He panted, unable to look away from the blood on his fingers. "I knew it, I should never have-- "
"Yawne, calm down." Y/n tried to reassure him, touching his face gently. "I did not hurt me, I didn't even realize..."She sighed, feeling guilty for not having warned him sooner. "It's completely normal."
"Normal?" Lo'ak asked, bewildered. "You are bleeding." How could he have thought for a single second he could have trusted himself to hold y/n without causing her harm?
"It can happen sometimes to humans... more often than not during their first time... "She explained. "Something inside me just ripped, is all. It burns a little now, but you were making me feel so good I barely even felt the pain..." The thought of three of Lo'ak's fingers being more than enough to break her hymen made the possibility of taking his cock slightly more daunting than she'd previously imagined. But that didn't mean y/n no longer wanted him with every fiber of her being. "It won't happen again, if that makes you feel any better..."
Lo'ak pulled her close and kissed her. "You are so strong." He whispered, thinking about how lucky he was to have someone who had so willingly given themselves to him. Who trusted him with every part of their being. He hoisted y/n in his arms and took her to the bathroom, cleaning them both off with warm water and a soft towel. Even after all those years, he still remembered where everything was in her home.
As he did so, he knelt down in the small room that was clearly not built to accommodate someone of his stature and began to leave delicate kisses over y/n's mound and between her folds. It was his way of apologizing for the discomfort he'd caused her. "Are you trying to 'kiss it better'?" She giggled softly, running her hands through his braids. "Lo'ak, I promise you I'm okay..."
"Yes..." Lo'ak answered her question. "But I also just love kissing you here..." He admitted, looking up at y/n with nothing but reverence in his eyes.
It was hard to keep their hands off of each other for the rest of the night. Y/n desperately wanted to worship Lo'ak's body in the same way he'd done with her, and she wasn't going to rest until he finally let go and let someone else take care of him for once.
After a passionate make-out session against her bathroom sink, they'd stumbled back into the warmth of their bed and Lo'ak was once again aching for her. Y/n took in every single one of his reactions as her hands worked their magic over his cock: his grunts, his soft growls, his furrowed brow, and his hooded lids. Although nothing got to her quite in the same way as when he would bare his teeth, giving her a little glimpse of his sharp canines. Lo'ak was incredibly vulnerable at that moment, and he was all hers.
"Fuck, fuck y/n... " He unwillingly bucked his hips into her touch, almost throwing y/n off him by accident. "Oh shit--- sorry baby, come back here." Lo'ak reached for her and manhandled her back into his lap, unable to bite back a smile when she laughed a little. He enveloped himself around her completely, making sure the incident wouldn't happen a second time, as y/n brought him closer and closer to the edge.
Lo'ak exploded between them without much of a warning, surprising y/n with the heaviness of his load. She let out a soft moan as most of it painted her stomach, working Lo'ak's cock with her hand until he'd given her every last drop. The Na'vi was ready to apologize, embarrassed even in a state of afterglow, when he saw her bring her own finger to her lips to get a taste of his essence.
Lo'ak felt unable to breathe as he took in the debauched sight of y/n, her belly and lips covered with his seed while she looked up at him innocently.
It was going to be a long night.
#loak x reader#loak sully#loak fanfiction#loak#loak smut#loak fluff#loak angst#loak x human reader#loak x fem reader#avatar the way of water#avatar way of water#avatar 2#lo'ak x reader#atwow#atwow x reader#avatar 2009#avatar x reader#avatar x y/n#avatar fanfiction#avatar x you#avatar x human reader#lo'ak x you#lo'ak x y/n#lo'ak x fem reader#lo'ak x human reader#lo'ak smut#lo'ak fluff#lo'ak angst#loak imagine#loak headcanons
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Time and Tines (1/3)
Plans (see series)
Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader
for @sweeterthanthis's Bittersweet Symphony Writing Challenge
Can’t change the way we are,
One kiss away from killing.
—Bishop Briggs, River
Summary: Steve meets the mysterious woman staring at him from across the room.
Warnings for vague injuries, mention of needles, manipulation/brainwashing, SEMI-DARK fic (like I've read worse but it ain't sunny, folks). MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. This work has heavy themes unsuitable for minors. There is plenty else to read on my Light Masterlist if this is not your cup of tea! WC 3.6k
The event isn’t overly loud, but the lights are lower and he is surrounded by people. Steve isn’t fond of crowds, not when he’s not working, not when the event is actually meant to be fun for him. He isn’t Captain America right now. He isn’t the center of attention. He isn’t bothering to mingle. Instead, he’s chosen to humor a long-winded medical rant from the Avenger’s resident doctor of the past half-year.
Salvatore Avani enlightens Steve on several ways he can assess and replicate Erskine’s serum without taking a drop of any super soldier’s blood. It would be an interesting project if Steve hadn’t heard it all before, over and over, from every hopeful doctor and scientist to cross his path. At least Steve gets to be out of his suit for a while and…in another suit, though this one is significantly more forgiving to his stance and skin.
“You see, Captain, your strength can be wielded for so much more than fighting. It could give safety and security to people working unmechanizable jobs,” Dr. Avani points out.
“Not sure that’s a word, sir, but I understand.” Steve swirls whisky around in his tumbler, ice long melted, and wishes—not for the first time—that alcohol still had an effect on him. “A certain amount of modernization does protect those same workers from danger…and no one had to be dosed with anything,” he concludes before emptying the glass in hand.
As Avani opens his mouth to retort, a weight lands on Steve’s shoulder.
“Sorry, Doc,” Bucky interrupts, “just a quick word.”
“Of course, gentlemen.” The doctor turns back around to the bar to order himself another cocktail.
Bucky leans to whisper in Steve’s ear.
“So, punk, we got a situation at three o’clock.”
His whole body tenses, which doesn’t look all that different because Steve has excellent posture, but he deposits the finished glass on the counter and looks over his right shoulder past his friend.
Eyes. Intense and focused eyes meet his before darting down. A few people meander in the space between but you’re all Steve can see for a long moment.
“There it is,” Bucky mutters in recognition.
“Did you just make me look at a dame across the room?” Steve runs a hand over his freshly shaven law and hisses. “Jerk.”
“Uh, that dame’s been staring at you for a solid twenty minutes, but you weren’t noticing. You’re welcome.”
Steve lowers his head, suppressing a grin as best he can and glancing again to his right.
You’ve turned away. You’re fiddling with a glass of clear, bubbly liquid. Vodka soda? Gin and tonic? Those are Steve’s first guesses, but he can’t tell which since both lemon and lime wedges float above the ice.
“Two of whatever she is having,” Bucky asks the bartender helpfully, clapping a pat of encouragement on Steve’s back.
The man behind the bar gives a quizzical look and then shrugs.
Buck winks at him as Steve heads for your high-top table. No one else stands around you. No rings on the hand beside your drink. No way you don’t know he’s coming over even with your eyes down.
“Hi, mind if I join you?”
You smile without looking up. “Only if you brought gifts.” Your voice is small, a little shyer than Steve would expect from someone brazen enough to watch him that long from afar, but he sets his offering on the table anyway.
“I do,” he replies softly, matching your tone, “although what it is is a mystery to me.”
Still smiling, you drain your original glass quickly and confess, “Sierra Mist.”
Steve sucks air through pearly white teeth. “Yikes. More of a 7-Up man myself.”
“Go figure. Captain America has brand loyalty.”
He fails to stop the burst of laughter punched from his chest. It doesn’t scare you though. He’s actually pleased it seems to relax you. He sets his own hand on the table approximately an inch from yours.
“Touché.”
A faint tremor rolls through that hand but stops after you make a fist and release it.
Steve just starts saying random things that come to mind, and shockingly, it works.
Conversation flows for while as he notices that your dress straps don’t stay put very well and there is a barely visible seam at your hairline. Why you would need to wear a wig, he has no idea. He finds himself almost compelled to say your natural hair is perfect, just like you.
And this is why Steve doesn’t let himself out much.
During one comment regarding the other guests, he sneaks a peek over at Bucky—still beside Avani—and is flashed a thumbs up which he immediately hopes you did not see.
Chatting continues.
Steve isn’t a good flirt, but it seems he’s getting lucky with little lines tonight. He’s willing to push his luck.
“Well, after all this sweetness, maybe we should dance off some energy.” Yet sugar, like alcohol, has no discernible effect on Steve Rogers.
“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. I’m a miserable dancer.” You lift your bejeweled clutch up alongside your lemon-lime soda. “Besides how would I carry it all?”
“Well, if they’d make dresses with fuller skirts like they used to,” Steve teases, pushing his half-full glass aside, “you wouldn’t have that problem. The world regressed that way. Real shame.”
“Not a fan of form-fitting gowns?” you cock your head with wide eyes.
Steve’s gaze snaps to his shoes, hoping to choke off the heat rising in his cheeks. It only chokes his words. “Oh, oh god, no. They’re lovely. I meant, ya know, pockets and…I just—I didn’t want anything to stop you.“
“Me neither.”
You take him in with warm assessment and one last evaluation of the room, tucking your lip between your teeth briefly. “You’re in luck,” you add with a laugh. “I’m about to blow your mind, Captain.”
He watches you open the clasp, fish around inside the tiny bag—barely an envelope, really, but Steve learned from Natasha that ladies can hold a scary amount in those things,— and pull out a silvery length like a party trick from the minuscule confines. The new strap allows you to toss the purse over your shoulder.
You present the transformation like it’s a superpower.
“Nifty,” Steve coos.
You nod an acceptance of his awe. “I am nothing if not prepared.”
“And now—“ he offers his hand again “—out of excuses. Bucky tells me I am ‘a sight to behold’ and not in a good way. Shall we prove him right in solidarity?”
You head to the open floor, guided by Steve’s lead. “Not gonna try to prove him wrong?”
He swings you around to face him. “How would I always win as Cap if I bet like that?”
You hum while Steve settles a hand over the satin at your waist. “Picking your battles, huh?” Free and delicate hands land at his shoulders before one smooths down his sleeve, your eyes never leaving his. “And I’m a fight waiting to happen?”
He gets lost for a few bars until he shows his true colors and winces.
“Well, my toes are fighting with yours, clearly.”
But you simply laugh.
Steve’s brain turns over the steps and his apologies and then finally lands on a good line way after the fact. “Or, no, wait, I’ve got it now.” He squares his shoulders a little more and deepens his voice, comically.
“You’re worth fighting for.”
The snort huffed in his face is perfect, the grin that splits your painted lips over shiny white teeth blinding and well worth his efforts.
“Oh wow. See!” He earns a featherlight slap to the chest. “You do have your charming moments, Captain Rogers.”
“Steve, please—“ he fakes leading you off the floor “—and could we go repeat that in front of—“
“—the extremely grumpy man gripping a beer bottle?” Your sights land across the room toward the bar. “I don’t know, Steve. Your critic looks pretty…something.”
Steve frowns when he sees Bucky. As his friend speaks with Dr. Avani, Bucky’s face pinches solid as stone, overly serious beside the doctor’s casual body language. Buck indeed looks pissed for no reason.
Steve squints in apology. “He’s not—that’s just—I promise he’s not like that—“
Where’s that teasing joy from a minute ago?
He contemplates that still when your hands release him, and his focus snaps back.
“I need to use the ladies’ room anyway,” you shrug, rubbing a palm up and down your bare arm.
“And then fireworks?” Steve inserts hopefully, almost removing his suit jacket right then to drape over your shoulders. He sounds like an excited schoolboy, and he’s again glad that Bucky is far enough away not to know how obvious he’s being.
You smile, a graceful tug at the dark, matte lipstick sculpted over your full—Rogers. Then a little nod is all you offer before turning to the hall, bag bouncing at your hip on its magic chain.
Steve watches you go, meandering over to Bucky while glancing in your last known direction, until his friend grunts to get his attention.
Avani is gone, but Buck’s face remains sour.
“What on earth did Doc say? Some intel for a mission?” Steve’s only half-curious and fully-distracted though.
His friend just waves off the mood. “Where’s your girl?”
“She’s not…” Steve shakes his head.
“Fine. Where’s your girl for the night?” Bucky raises one eyebrow.
“You know that sounds even worse now than it did back then, right?”
“Well?” Bucky looks around inquisitively.
“Powder her nose—” Steve smirks with rosy cheeks “—then watching the light show.”
He gets a solid smack between his shoulders and a proud nod.
Steve tries to remain patient, he really does, but after a few minutes and nearly every guest settled into their own viewing spot across the long balcony, he checks back over his shoulder.
Nothing.
He excuses himself from Bucky’s side and wanders toward the hallway.
Yes, he knows he’ll look too interested and a bit stalker-esque, but he doesn’t want to miss the show—he doesn’t want you to miss the show with him. There’s gonna be this beautiful display in the sky and you’ll be engrossed enough that he can just look at the changing colors glow across your…
What?!
Around one corner of the wall, Steve sees a foot, one shiny, brown men’s dress shoe, and then another. Someone’s kneeling—shaking if rolling toes are any indication—and then there you are standing over him.
“Doctor Avani?” Steve croaks, watching you raise a syringe and needle high over the man’s head.
You ignore Steve’s arrival.
The doctor’s eyes don’t break from you as he shrieks, “Captain, she’s mad. She—“
“How dare you? Bastard,” you bite out, heaving your weapon at the doctor’s exposed throat as Steve lunges forward.
It punctures the thick, luxurious navy fabric of Steve’s suit, and he feels the slight swelling pressure of liquid entering his forearm.
You release your grip, eyes wild and teeth bared. Gone is the sweet and serene woman with whom he shared a drink and danced.
The syringe stays lodged in Steve’s flesh as he pushes the doctor aside to shield him, but it’s too late for you.
Bucky followed behind him and now wraps your arms behind your back while you struggle to inch toward Avani, spitting insults.
“What was it?” Bucky demands. “What’s in there? What poison?”
Steve rips the needle out, checking it for any clues.
With a scowl, your fierce gaze stays on the doctor.
“Ask him. It’s his brand of suffering.”
Steve watches behind the two-way mirror for a while, deciding how to approach you. After chatting with you for the better part of an hour at the event, he still knows absolutely nothing about you. Every single piece of your preliminary file is news to him. He has to start from scratch, which is, ironically, what you are trying to do to the seam of your wig when he finally enters the interrogation room.
“Tea or water?” Steve sets down the cups.
You stop fidgeting for a beat. “Water is fine. Thank you.”
Polite. You stabbed him with a needle, injected him with an unknown substance, and you’re polite about it? He doesn’t understand the nonchalance. If you meant to kill Dr. Avani, then why aren’t you upset that you failed?
With your hands cuffed and the chain laced through a handlebar built into the table, it’s an awkward strain on your neck. You shove your shoulder high and pulse your head back and forth. Your wrists are thin, thin enough that one good, hard pull might actually snap one.
Polite and uncomfortable. Steve figures showing some courtesy might loosen your tongue.
He unlocks the cuffs and places the water in easy reach, keeping the tea for himself.
He sits and you sip. It’s peaceful when it shouldn’t be.
Avani has no clue who you are or what you want, but Steve couldn’t get many answers during the chaos that ensued after your attack. His own heart rate skyrocketed for a few minutes before normalizing. Otherwise, he’s fine.
He tilts the tea in your direction.
“Here’s hoping you didn’t waste truth serum on me,” he cheers. “Might be the only drug completely useless both after and before Erskine’s formula.”
You’re amused, a smirk lifting fading, dark lips. “Ah yes. Good, honest Captain America.”
“To a fault.”
“No.” Your seriousness stops him cold, and Steve’s smile fades. “It’s not a fault. You’re just rare.”
You value honesty. He can work with that.
“Is that why you chose a drug specifically for the doctor? You didn’t want to harm anyone else, even by accident?”
That shuts you down instead. Steve’s jumped too far, too fast. He’s not allowed to use the same easy tone as before this mess. Maybe he should have found some 7Up…
Silence descends until broken by your heavy swallows of water.
You’re staring down at your reflection in the table’s surface.
“I love stainless steel,” you mutter to no one in particular. “It’s like diffusion. I almost look normal.”
“You mean because you look different?” Steve pulls out your ID found in that small purse. “Why don’t you look ‘normal?’”
You shrug, finally dislodging the precarious strap and it dangles down your arm. “Lost weight.”
“And the hair?”
He was right. Your natural hair in the photo is beautiful. Why the hell are you wearing a wig? If it were obscuring your identity, he imagines you would know not to carry around a real ID.
“Time” is your only answer.
You’re skirting around the truth, lying by omission, waiting for the exact right questions which Steve doesn’t know yet, so he asks something for peace of mind, something that will tell him how long to play this game. “Are you gonna be honest with me?”
Your answer comes easily enough. “Are you gonna be helpful to me?”
Simple. Straightforward. Cutting. It’s said with sorrowful eyes.
He can’t promise anything when he doesn’t know why. “If your purpose is to kill a man then, no, I can’t help you with that.”
Your empty cup lands on the table with a light tonk.
“Maybe I’ll wait until someone who can help walks through that door.”
“In this situation, I believe I’m what’s known as the ‘good cop,’” Steve sighs. “Don’t think you want to dance with the ‘bad cop.’ He’s pretty annoyed he didn’t peg you for an assailant first.”
Nothing about your demeanor changes, not a flinch, not a blink. “Good thing I don’t want to dance with him.”
“He’s not much of a talker either. I’d be a better—“
“I didn’t say I’d talk to him either.”
Steve leans on his elbows, splaying wide across the table. “Just tell me your story. I am here to listen.”
“That makes this sound like a first date.”
“Bucky would likely agree—“ he snorts “—and he’d make a point to say this is going about as well as any date I’ve been on this century. Please,” Steve tries again, “ talk to me.”
There’s a long pause. Your intense gaze remains steady. Whatever your reasons, they don’t strain your moral fortitude. You are a believer, faithful to this unknown cause.
Carefully, quietly, you respond. “It’s not my story to tell. Ask your doctor.”
“If it’s not your story, where are the others? Can they tell it? Are they alive?”
Steve is more perceptive than you counted on judging by your slight head shake.
You flop yourself backward in the seat.
Steve was right. It’s not a what you act for, it’s a who. And they are dead.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says earnestly.
This—that simple sentiment—gets the greatest reaction so far. Your lip twitches, and you shimmy against the hard chair. You scratch at your wig again, before your focus returns to the table. There are tears welling in your eyes.
No one has said that before now, he realizes. How long has it been since they passed? Why are you the only mourner? Why aren’t you moving on?
Suddenly, irritation stirs in Steve, and he can’t believe how stubborn you’re being when he is your best option. He is the only one that will have this soft spot for you, the only one who truly wants to help because he truly wants to know why.
“So you’re avenging,” he bursts, tossing his arms out, dramatically looking around the bland room.
Protocol dictated they take you to the nearest precinct for questioning. Only if you were enhanced, only if you had special abilities would you be transported all the way to the compound. So on his night off, while attending a party that actually entertained him for once, you’ve shown up with a syringe that doesn’t do anything and made him miss the fireworks. You’ve made him lose time being content, a rare gift in his line of work.
Steve is frustrated, to say the least. He stands to pace his side of the table.
“Avenging, huh? Gosh, I wish I knew anything about that… anyone in this building even… wherever will we find someone who understands?”
“You don’t do sarcasm very much, do you?” you snip, energy level remaining low compared to his spiked bluster. “I’d like to tell ‘bad cop’ what a terrible dancer you are now. He’s not going to be surprised you made me cry, is he? That’s probably normal, too.”
“Surprised? No.” Steve knocks on the mirror, sick of playing, sick of being wrong, sick of choosing unwisely. “How could he be when he’s been listening this whole time?”
You’re trapped, but you aren’t acting like a caged animal. Something is…off, and Steve realizes he’s too close to the situation—ridiculous as that may be—after just two hours of knowing you. His best friend will have better luck.
Bucky opens the door a few seconds later, armed to the teeth as an intimidation tactic.
It’s disconcerting that your expression brightens once a man sporting three guns and—counting the hidden few—eight knives enters the room. That’s got Steve’s attention.
“So she’s giving you trouble?” Bucky mutters.
He’s grateful Buck doesn’t go the ‘you sure can pick ‘em, Rogers’ or ‘better luck next millennium’ route. Steve shakes his head.
You itch at your wig, face twisted, and glance up at Steve.
“May I take this off?”
Still polite. The niceties are actually making his blood boil at this point because he does not get it yet.
“Fine,” he snaps, rolling his eyes when Bucky purses his lips at Steve’s tone.
“Listen, doll, I think the best course of action is to let you stew in here for a while. When you’re ready to tell us what you know, then—“
“Oh, I can tell you what I know now,” you say casually, pulling out bobby pin after bobby pin to tuck between your teeth. “I know the protocol for a low-level threat like myself is the nearest local law enforcement facility, I know that—due to an unfortunate instance of food poisoning from a birthday cake earlier today—most of this precinct is empty. I know that all three of you would prefer to incapacitate your targets rather than kill them.”
You set the little pile of pins down on the table by your undone chain, pulling a hair comb from the back of your wig to finally release it.
“There’s only two of us here,” Steve says in confusion.
“No.” You point the forked hair comb at Bucky and push yourself out of the chair. “Winter’s in there.”
Before the words can even register, you slam the tines of the tuning fork against the edge of the steel table. The noise is piercing and specific.
Steve covers his ears, but Bucky doesn’t move. He can’t turn away from you.
“Restrain him,” you order, “and get me out of here.”
“Buck, wait—“
The vibranium arm threatens to crush Steve’s windpipe as the force slides him up the mirrored wall.
The Winter Soldier’s cold, vacant grey eyes watch as Steve’s vision fades to black, and Steve wonders how the hell he could be so wrong.
Then it’s quiet and he wonders no more.
A/N: This story is a doozy, gang, but I promise, explanations are ahead!
[Next Part] [preview]
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ms appleton was nowhere close to having total control over soy sauce: perspectives on food and postwar japan
there's a popular post going around this month by @inneskeeper about how a single person changed japanese soy sauce forever. i've made my own post showing why this the story is incomplete and based on some factual inaccuracies, but i will be honest in saying that i would not be so engaged in responding to this post if it were not wrapped in a shockingly reductive narrative. i'll use this quote from op as a summary of the general idea they're trying to convey:
[...] I think that it is incredibly important that more people in the world are aware that leading into the Cold War, Japan was forcibly coerced into giving total power over a significant cultural touchstone/ingredient/way of life to a single foreigner who had a complete lack of respect for what shoyu is, even going so far as to say "I want to change Japan's taste preferences". I cannot imagine a more direct and blunt parallel to settler-colonialism mindset. I truly cannot. [link]
i will attempt give a larger view of that era and convey why this singular view is at best oversimplifying and at worst an incorrect projection of other trends upon what is an almost unique event in history.
note: i am not an academic historian; i will do my best to provide sources, but they will mostly be secondary.
i will use the three i's presented by prof. ian shapiro of yale, interests, institutions, and ideals, as lenses through which i will provide a more holistic view of the events at hand:
tl;dr:
the united states did not have uniform interests entering the cold war and the occupiers had a varying set of visions for japanese society and economy.
both the japanese public, the american occupation, and the japanese civil government had a more important goal: preventing hunger. japan was not coerced into handing over a tradition; it was suffering the consequences of its own colonial empire-building.
both countries were interested in building a healthy consumer economy, and ultimately the tastes of the public held most sway.
the idea of "a guy" being in charge of things has been a common theme in american foreign policy, but the idea that "the guy" was singularly responsible for massive change belies american perspectives and biases that often misrepresent the truth abroad.
i - ideals
i think this lens is maybe the most sympathetic to @inneskeeper's narrative: it makes sense that a settler-colonial nation with a deep root of anglo-protestant self-righteousness and evangelical tendencies would want to impose its vision of society upon a defeated foe. that said, it is not the only ideology at play in this situation, from both japan and the usa.
let's talk about main value the united states likes to impose upon foreign societies: democracy capitalism. i think what is interesting here is that this single word can have multiple interpretations in practice, and we can use this soy sauce story to look at the diversity in opinion of what capitalism means.
first, a capitalism tied to liberal ideals: a free and open market without monopolies as a promoter of egalitarianism. this concept was brought to japan by many of the administrators in the american occupation that have previously observed or enacted roosevelt's new deal in the aftermath of the great depression. [1, p.57-58; 2, p.98] we see a focus on trust-busting and a strong aversion to any significantly concentrated capital. pre-war japan was dominated by structures known as 財閥 zaibatsu, vertically integrated groups that are helmed by a family-controlled holding company owning a set of subsidiaries in banking and industry with interlocking stock ownership and directorship. the zaibatsu structures, emerging since the late edo and early meiji periods, have become inextricably linked to building the japanese imperial war machine (though somewhat forcibly). [3] on the american side, as a result, certain american elements viewed trust-busting as a way to democratize japan through the economy. [2, p.34; 4, p.19; 5, IV-2b] this included maj. gen. marquat, ms. appleton's boss at the ghq/scap economic and scientific section (ess). [4, p.31] japan's first postwar prime minister, shigeru yoshida, and his ministry of foreign affairs, seemed to agree with the deconcentration of capital. [4, p.20] this is not to say that the americans were particularly sympathetic, as gen. macarthur and others were quite convinced of the japanese population's inability to shed its feudal tendencies; rather, the americans found an opportunity to build a new liberal, democratic society to their liking. and yes, there was some punitive intent; the united states and allies did just finish fighting an 8-year-long war against an expanding empire. [4, p.30]
opposite the liberal view is the conservative, if not pragmatic, ideal of capitalism: as a bulwark against communism. japan was an industrialized nation with a developed economy, and as far as the looming cold war is involved, the united states wants both a healthy consumer economy and one that is integrated in the new world economy (i.e. one with american interests as stakeholders). [4, p.31-32, 44] if "deconcentration" of capital, as it was called by the occupiers, were to run its course, some americans (and lobbyists linked to japanese industry) feared that japanese society would be thrown into chaos, or worse, the rapprochement with the soviets under a socialist economy. [4, p.22, 32] the victors did initially break up many of the tightly-woven zaibatsu, but the overall health of the economy was eventually prioritized as a bulwark against communism, thus the number of zaibatsu slated for dismantling was reduced, and the main deconcentration proposal (FEC-230) was disavowed. [4, p. 32]
all this debate within the american occupation, plus some interjections from the japanese business community, about the nature of the rebuilding japanese market and economy was held from 1946 to 1948. this culminated in the "reverse course," in which cold war objectives won out in occupation policy, though the free market as a liberalizing principle was not discarded. [4, p.44-46] in the same space, there existed both a punitive drive to disperse the old japanese economic engine and a desire to build a new, genuinely local, consumer society as a protection against communism.
“Nothing will serve better to win the Japanese people over to a peaceful, democratic way of life than the discovery that it brings rewards in the way of better living and increasing economic security.” - col. r.m. cheseldine, u.s. war department [4, p.44]
it is important to distinguish this from the colonialist drive, which is to capture markets and resources for the sole benefit of the homeland.
in the context of soy sauce, the release by ghq/scap of american soybeans to japan was announced in 1948, after the reverse course has taken hold. [6, p.157] in addition, kikkoman was not even a zaibatsu, it was a company with roots in family ownership, vertically-integrated structures, and eventually found to engage in monopolistic practices, but was not of a large enough scale or diversification to qualify. [7, ch.3] the list of zaibatsu is actually quite limited. [wiki] all this meant that the anti-trust case brought against noda shōyu k.k. (kikkoman's predecessor) in 1954 in the tokyo high court is an entirely domestic affair (scap handed over power in 1949 and the position was abolished in 1952). [8, p.53] that said, the 1957 ruling against noda in noda shōyu k.k. v. japan fair trade commission (jftc) was the result of an aberrant and unfavourable reading of the act on prohibition of private monopolization and maintenance of fair trade, article 3; the act was passed in 1947, when scap was in power. [8, p.53] since article 3 is quite short ("an enterprise must not effect private monopolization or unreasonable restraint of trade."), it was open to wide interpretation, leading to the argument by the jftc that price-fixing as a leading player in an industry constituted monopolistic behaviour. [9] in that sense, we can see echoes of the debate around monopolies from the occupation era.
through the lens of ideals, we can see that in the periphery of this story, there is a friction between competing visions of capitalism in practice. in that sense, while it agrees that the usa had some desire to reshape a foreign country to its own ideals, it also shows how @inneskeeper's narrative unduly reduces the american occupation to a singular actor with singular motives, and one that is akin to colonial empires in other parts of history.
research questions:
did american attitudes towards monopolies affect the free distribution of semichemical fermentation methods? [6, p.160]
what direct links can we make between occupation-era attitudes towards monopolization and japanese governance regarding the food industry?
ii - institutions
from the point of view of institutions (i use the term loosely), it's a lot more apparent how the situation has a lot more factors flowing in many directions. i will largely focus on three structures: the japanese food industry, the allied victors, and the japanese civil government.
when discussing the food industry, it's important to note that this is what sustains the inhabitants of a place; while condiments are a trivial part of sustenance, the way it is made and its ebbs and flows and shed a lot of light onto the needs of people. japan, since the early 20th century, had been a country that could not sustain itself off the resources of its home islands. as a colonial empire, it relied on food imports from korea and taiwan, and in the 20s and 30s pursued the low-lying plains of manchuria (northeastern china). this reflects in its soybean consumption as well: japan consumed about 1 million tons of soy each year in the 1930s, and at least two-thirds of it was imported from the colonies or manchukuo (the puppet régime ruling machuria). [10] within what we now call the "home islands" of japan, hokkaido, the one remaining settler-colony of japan to this day, produces the most out of all regions. [11, p.4]
(time for some math: [10] states that about 949 000 tons of soy sauce was consumed in japan per year in the mid-1930s. a quick look at soy sauce recipes reveals that 1kg of soy produces about 4 litres (and assuming about 4kg due to density of water) of sauce. with the 4:1 ratio, we can therefore estimate that about 237 000 tons of soy was used per year to make sauce immediately before the war.)
the end of the japanese empire meant losing direct access to those production areas: manchuria was returned to china, and korea and taiwan were placed under various allied (usa, china, ussr) administrations. with japan needing to supply its troops over an ever-growing front line, caloric intake by the average japanese already dropped well below necessary levels for an adult by 1944. [12] by 1946, the defeated nation was at the brink of starvation. american analysis towards the end of wwii determined that soybean production in the home islands could not rise beyond its pre-war levels without sacrificing other land use. [11, p.5] in order to survive, the soy industry needed to replace about 70% of its sources in short order without encroaching upon other agricultural sectors necessary to sustain life. there was immense pressure.
regarding the allies: the japanese empire was largely carved up by three victors, china, the ussr, and the usa. the ussr, having been the least active in the defeat of japan, with its most important contribution being the verbal threat of invasion, was not actively threatening aside from the spectre of spreading communism (as mentioned in part i). china, on the other hand, regained the lands that produced much of the food japan was consuming. while the republic of china (ruled by the kmt) was still in power, it was able to continue supplying food to neighbouring nations. [14] however, civil war broke out between the kmt government and the communists almost immediately after the end of wwii. [13] 1948 saw active fighting in northern china, thus hampering any exports of food; the kmt régime collapsed and fled to taiwan in 1949, and the communist government stopped all trade with the western bloc at the outbreak of the korean war in 1950. [14] with china being unable to supply japan, there is only one remaining option for food imports: the usa. soybean imports in the usa was generally coordinated by the garioa program and through private trade. american exports of soybean to japan skyrocketed from 6000 tons in 1946 and 34600 tons in 1947 to 119500 tons (about 12% of pre-war consumption) in 1948, 152500 tons in 1949 (almost all imports to japan that year), and 305000 tons in 1950. [15, p.67, 69] japan itself likely produced between 300 000 and 450 000 tons of soybeans each year, which meant that in 1947-48 japan was consuming definitively less than two-thirds of its pre-war consumption. the soy industry as a whole, and certainly the soy sauce industry, was in a desperate state.
unlike the collapsed german and italian régimes, the japanese government retained a functioning structure after the rapid end to hostilities in the pacific theatre. [16, p.194] this meant that instead of being tasked with the groundwork of running a country, the allied powers had an existing civil government to administer directives and policies; the u.s. eighth army served as an enforcement and reporting arm of scap. [16, p.195-197] during the war, from 1939 to 1942, the imperial government instituted various food control laws that collected and distributed food from producers under a quota system. [17, p.221] such quotas, as as well as rationing, persisted in the immediate months after allied victory. however, with the surrender of japan, public confidence in the government plummeted, significantly hampering its ability to administer food. the average caloric value of rations in tokyo could only fulfill about a third of an adult's needs; hungry city-dwellers increasingly opted to buy on the black market (which had poached imperial military stock) or physically go to the countryside to acquire food directly from farmers outside of government rationing. [18, p.30-31; 19, p.835, 843] scap policy directed the japanese government to "reinstate" agricultural quotas, and in 1946, it issued the emergency imperial food ordinance which empowered government expropriation of food for the production quota and enforcement of such policies; the u.s. eighth army participated in enforcing the policy within the civil administration. [17; 18] the yoshida government,the first democratically elected administration in the new state of japan, was keenly aware of the necessity of food in rehabilitating japan, as well as the importance of competing against the black market in order to once again establish the rule of law. [18] as such, the tight government control of domestic food production lasted much longer than in other industries, causing pressure for "non-essential" segments like the seasoning industry.
(as an aside, in line with certain ideas discussed in part i, scap directed land reform which redistributed much of the arable land in japan, increasing productivity of land and eliminating the interest of large landowners thought to be threatening to democracy. [18])
as discussed in my previous post, chemical alternatives to fermented soy sauce have been developed since the early 20th century. [6] during the war, substitute methods (especially amino acid-based ones, e.g. hvp or mixed hvp-honjozo) replaced fermented honjozo* methods as resources became more scarce. [20]
*honjōzō (本醸造) means "genuinely fermented".
in early 1948, it was announced that 20 000 tons of soybean meal would be made available by the eroa fund for the purpose of making seasonings, to be allocated by ms appleton at ghq/scap. [14; 6, p.159] this amount is only about 10% of the soybean consumption of soy sauce manufacturers before the war. on the surface, for an industry marginalized by the need to stave off starvation and maintain social stability, securing the imported soybean meal can be seen as a life-or-death situation. however, given the wartime state of sauce production, the struggle to acquire the soybean meal is more akin to an attempt to return to fully soy-based fermentation methods. the invention of the semichemical #2 method which increased soy usage productivity and secured most of the soybean meal for the soy sauce industry can be seen as a faster intermediate step to return to traditional fermented methods used before the war. it's also important to note that over 80% of soy sauce in japan has returned to traditional honjozo production, and that large companies such as kikkoman and yamasa have attempted to return to honjozo methods as early as the late 1950s. [20]
from this point of view, it does not seem particularly apparent that a single administrator had the power to change an industry, but rather her decisions were the impetus for developments to happen within the domestic industry. ultimately, japan's soy sauce industry was suffering the consequences of its industrialization and the failure of its colonial experiment. in a wider view, we can see this as a detail in the friction between two imperial projects. (consider this: out of the major parties involved, japan, china, usa, ussr, and other minor players in the pacific war, gb, netherlands, france, all of them entered the 20th century with imperial projects.)
research questions:
are there japanese sources that can verify production and imports during the 1940s?
there was a soy sauce control corporation formed by the imperial government in 1942 (全国醤油統制株式会社) that dictated resource allocation and quotas for the soy sauce industry. it seemed to have only been dissolved in 1948. what was its role after the war and what relationship did it have with scap?
iii - interests
as for interests, i will limit its scope to answering "who materially benefits." the groups at play are generally the same as the previous part, so i will be brief in elaboration.
the most obvious interest is that of the japanese public: their main material benefit in the late 1940s is to be nourished enough to stay alive (see part ii). while soy sauce is an important part of japanese cuisine, as a condiment, it is a nutritionally trivial part of its diet. it is then understandable, that japanese society and scap would be willing to temporarily sacrifice an immediate return to traditional production in favour of methods that would leave more food for direct consumption.
the next interest to discuss is that of the soy sauce industry, and its desire to return to honjozo (traditionally fermented) production after a period of scarcity during and after the war. it is important to note that regarding the 20 000 tons of soybean meal to be allocated by scap in 1948, the competitor to the soy sauce industry for those resources is the amino acid industry (msg, etc.). [6, p.159] with soybeans hard to come by, the soy sauce industry would have been under immense pressure to aquire the soybean meal distributed as aid. with kikkoman's development of semichemical #2 method, the scap decisionmakers reconsidered an earlier uneven distribution of soybean meal in favour of the amino acid producers. [6, p.160] what resulted next was talk between representatives of the two competing industries, facilitated by the americans. [6, p.160] it is important that taste trials were conducted, with wide support for the new semi-chemical method by the polled public. [6, p.160] at every step of the decision-making process, japanese interests were consulted by scap.
it is also important to mention the "japan lobby" in washington a set of interest groups and lobbyists representing japanese business as to illustrate the bidirectionality of influence in postwar japan. [21] this group arose from the aftermath of the first zaibatsu dissolutions. some key achievements of their advocacy activities include the disavowal of the fec-230 policy proposal from the allied powers (against gen. macarthur's wishes!), and adding revisions to scap's economic deconcentration program. it is plausible that this lobbying set had influence with scap and washington regarding soy sauce, given the tight-knit nature of the japanese business class. that said, the direct link between the japan lobby and soy sauce, should it exist, necessitates further research.
i think it is necessary to analyze from the lens of interests @inneskeeper's claim of the united states occupation forcibly seizing and making changes to a traditional food industry. it is known that the united states seeks to build a strong consumer economy that is open to american investment and imports of american products. [18, p.40] given that the soybean meal managed by scap in 1948 was aid, it would've been in the american interest to support either industry, since they would both eventually rely on american imports once the period of scarcity ends (china would soon cease ot be a reliable exporter of food). there is nothing related to soy sauce that would've been against american interests, business or political, whereas food scarcity has been a real problem facing the japanese and allied administration. in this case, the chief american interest is to stabilize japan as a society against two perceived social enemies: communism on the left and a renewed militarism borne of resentment on the right. with the task of placating a hungry and defeated populace, producing large amounts of soy sauce that is palatable to the public using minimal aid material would be an interest in and of itself for the americans. i think it could be argued whether comments made by americans about how easily japanese tastes can be swayed are insensitive and out of line, but it is also true that the public had much more pressing needs than condiment purity.
@inneskeeper also mentioned the yakuza in some of their posts as a possible interest group involved. the informal economy grew to encompass all strata near the end of the war and immediately afterwards; most urbanites were forced to use the black market to stave off hunger. [19] the yakuza, mafia-like organizations that would operate somewhat openly in the decades before the war, entered the fray as groups that managed informal vendors. [22, p.632] racketeering became rampant in the years immediately after japanese surrender due to shortages and irregular flows of necessities such as food, but as the economy recovered entering the 1950s, the yakuza moved to more conventional underworld enterprises such as as gambling, prostitution, and nightlife. [22, 23] it also moved towards the underbelly of political life, becoming an actor in anti-left politics. [22] we know that the changes to soy sauce production happened in the small window between the end of the war and the earnest start of economic recovery, so it is possible that parties involved would have to deal with the yakuza as a necessary source of material. however, since their sights are set on the industries traditionally associated with the underworld, it would be a stretch to say that they had any real say in the proceedings of this development beyond being one additional obstacle to the soy sauce industry in acquiring ingredients. that said, using a singular product can be very useful as a window into how the yakuza may have coerced informal food distribution channels.
research questions:
what specific outcomes were agreed upon at the "shoda-ouchi conference" between the soy sauce and amino acid manufacturing industries? [6, p.160]
how did the japan lobby affect or facilitate changes in the soy sauce industry?
how did the yakuza affect the informal food economy?
iv - individuals
one thing that made the original story by @inneskeeper so appealing to the tumblr public is the proposition that a single person may have changed japanese soy sauce forever.
it bears repeating that major industrial changes (and i would challenge the categorization of this soy sauce happening as "major" in comparison to the general state of japan in the 1940s) are often the culmination of many small decisions from a wide set of actors. what is interesting about the idea of a singular "manipulator" is that it mirrors a common trope in american foreign policy: the idea of "our guy" (e.g. "our guy in afghanistan" [24, p.277], "our guy in panama" [25], etc.), that is, a singular handler for american interests in a foreign theatre of operations. in this case, since the country at hand is managed by an american occupation, "our guy" in the japanese soy sauce industry is an american, ms. blanche appleton. while american policy sometimes prefers to use this paradigm, it does not necessarily mean it works, not is the wishful american imagination correct when it comes to situations on the ground (see citations above). this trope may also possibly be borne of the oft-cited concept of "american individualism," a value that is as much a contradiction (how can a single person be free to change the world as they see fit, while also live in a world free from the will of others?) as it is a real part of american culture.
in the faulty narrative of ms. appleton, we also see a similar contradiction: how can a foreign woman who is allegedly willingly unfamiliar (as it turns out, probably not true [6, p.160]) with the native culture be in total control of an entire element of its cuisine? what is the meaning of "total power": did she personally decide taste profile of the condiment to her tastes, coerce various native parties to the will of the americans (what will?), or facilitate the solution to a complex resource distribution problem? in any case (except the fancifully implausible first case), what is the singular role of ms appleton? did power flow from her, or through her? perhaps a more interesting way to look at this problem is to ask what would have happened if someone else were in ms. appleton's place. would their personal influence be significant enough as to change the outcome? if so, what would have been the extent of the changes? (we can maybe look at the facilitation of the "shoda-ouchi conference" as one point. [6, p.160]) conversely, what would have remained the same as the various parties involved influenced the situation?
a more helpful view is to see the balance between the ideas, institutions, and interests behind each decision that would paint a more complete picture of this historical era. perhaps it is not as flashy to break down a chapter in culinary history as the convergence of multiple influences, but it is the one that does history most justice.
discussion questions
this is for the test
how significant was the dearth of food in late 1940s japan to this situation, and what similar adaptations of food cultures occurred in other post-wwii nations?
what factors from imperial japan, whether before the sino-japanese war or during the war, influenced this situation?
is there any part of this development that forshadows the economic rehabilitation and subsequent growth of japan in the latter half of the 20th century? if so, how?
what american attitudes were at play in this situation, and what japanese attitudes (if you're familiar) were involved as well?
what influence did china, as the originator of soy sauce, a major source of food in east asia, and a significant allied power, have on postwar japan and how did it influence the development of the japanese variants of soy sauce?
what was the influence of the japanese public's tastes?
bibliography:
apologies for the weird mix of ieee inline and mla bibliography formats, ieee works best with hypertext but doesnt make much sense for non-stem subjects.
Allinson, G. D. Japan's postwar history, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2004. [link]
Moore, R. A., & D. L. Robinson. Partners for Democracy : Crafting the New Japanese State under MacArthur, Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, Incorporated, 2002. [avail. at libraries]
Okazaki, T. “The Japanese Firm Under the Wartime Planned Economy,” in The Japanese Firm: Sources of Competitive Strength, edited by M. Aoki and R. Dore, Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 1994. [link, requires academic access]
Sugita, Y. Pitfall or panacea : the irony of US power in occupied Japan 1945-1952, New York: Routledge, 2003. [avail. at libraries]
State-War-Navy Coordinating Committee. United States Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan (SWNCC150/4), 1945. [link]
Oguri, T. "醤油製造技術の系統化調査 Development of Soy sauce Manufacturing Technologies" in 国立科学博物館技術の系統化調査報告, Tokyo: National Museum of Nature and Science, 2008.
[link; translation of excerpts in an earlier post]
Fruin, W. M. The Japanese Enterprise System: Competitive Strategies and Cooperative Structures, Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 1994. [link]
Haley, J. O. "Marketing and Antitrust in Japan" in Hastings Int'l & Comp.L. Rev. 51 Vol. 2 No. 1, San Francisco: UC Hastings Law, 1979. [link]
Japan, National Diet. Act on Prohibition of Private Monopolization and Maintenance of Fair Trade (Act No. 54 of April 14, 1947), Tokyo: National Diet, 14 Apr. 1947 [link]
Nakamura, H. "The Japanese Soybean Market" in Illinois Agricultural Economics Vol. 1, No. 2, Milwaukee, WI: Agricultural & Applied Economics Association, 1961. [link]
United States of America, Tariff Commission. Japanese trade studies : special industry analysis no. 13, Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1944-45. [link]
United States of America, Strategic Bombing Survey. Summary Report (Pacific War), Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1946. [link]
Crisis, Time, 1944. [link]
Hirano, M. "Using American Soybeans in the Japanese Economy" in The Soybean Digest Vol. 12 Iss. 11, Cleveland, OH: Penton, 1952. [link]
United States of America, Department of Agriculture, Foreign Agricultural Service. United States Farm Products In Foreign Trade, Statistical Bulletin No. 112, Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Agriculture, 1953. [link]
General Staff of Gen. D. MacArthur. Reports of General MacArthur - MacArthur in Japan: The Occupation: Military Phase Volume I Supplement, Washington, DC: Center for Military History, 1966, reprinted 1994. [link]
Smith, H.F. (Chief, Food Branch, Price and Distribution Division, ESS, SCAP) "Food Controls in Occupied Japan" in Agricultural History Vol. 23, No. 3, Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1949 [link]
Fuchs, S. J. "Feeding the Japanese: Food policy, land reform, and Japan’s economic recovery" in Democracy in Occupied Japan: The U.S. Occupation and Japanese Politics and Society, edited by M. E. Caprio and Y. Sugita, New York: Routledge, 2007. [link]
Griffiths, O. "Need, Greed, and Protest in Japan's Black Market, 1938-1949" in Journal of Social History Vol. 35, No. 4, Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 2002. [link]
Oya, Y. "みそ製造業の構造変化とその要因" in 食品経済研究 第30号 (Bulletin of the Department of Food Economics, Nihon University), Tokyo: Nihon University, 2002. [link]
Schonberger, H. "The Japan Lobby in American Diplomacy, 1947-1952" in Pacific Historical Review Vol. 46, No. 3, Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 1977. [link]
Siniawer, E. M. "Befitting Bedfellows: Yakuza and the State in Modern Japan" in Journal of Social History Vol. 45, No. 3, The Hidden History of Crime, Corruption, and States, Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 2012. [link]
Hill, P. B. E. The Japanese Mafia: Yakuza, Law, and the State, Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 2003. [link]
Blaxland, J., M. Fielding, and T. Gellerfy, Niche Wars: Australia in Afghanistan and Iraq, 2001–2014, Canberra: ANU Press, 2020. [link]
Kornheiser, T. "Noriega Our Bountiful Nation" The Washington Post, Dec. 22, 1989. [link]
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Radical Acceptance is basically about accepting our feelings, without pushing them down, even the negative ones.
It means accepting reality and feelings for what they are, though it doesn't mean you don't want to change them.
Here's an example (This is a "small" situation because I think this is best started with a more manageable circumstance first.):
Step 1 - Think of a situation that you have feelings about. (Note that I don't recommend trying this with traumatic events to start which is why I've used the example below.)
Example: Yesterday I embarrassed myself in front of the cashier at the store when she said "Here's your receipt" and I said "thanks, you too!" This has heightened my anxiety about future situations where I need to talk to a stranger.
Step 2 - What caused the event? Stick to facts and don't make judgements about something you've done.
Example: I was distracted by feeling overwhelmed and misunderstood what she was saying.
Step 3 - Accepting the feelings. What emotions do you feel when you think back on this event? Try and be open about this and note any physical changes you might feel like your heart beat increasing.
Example: I feel embarrassed when I think back on it and it makes my hands a little sweaty.
Step 4 - The plan. This is where you come up with a plan on how to handle the situation and/or its effects. If you are not significantly affected by the situation, the acceptance steps may be enough. The DBT skill "Wise Mind" might be a good skill to use when coming up with a plan
Example: I can use rational thoughts to help me navigate this. Realistically, she probably talks to dozens of people a day. She also unfortunately probably deals with a lot of rude people that are more likely to stay on her mind rather than my little mix up with words. If anything, maybe it was refreshing for her because I was polite and chipper with her and maybe she felt the positive effects of that mood I was trying to convey.
Here are some coping thoughts that may help:
I do not have control of the past, only this current moment.
Ignoring my emotions only allows them to fester and continue to bother me.
This is uncomfortable, but I am going to get through this.
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Luke + “Can I watch you?” (get some of that voyeurism in there mayhaps?) (also hugs, i definitely know how this situation feels)
I got carried away <3 merry chrysler
warnings: 18+ only! minors do not interact with my posts! reader with afab body but no gendered terms, mild risk-taking, accidental voyeurism, dubious consent but both reader and Luke are into it. not proofread.
A/N: about 1.3k! I didn't have a reason why they're on the Falcon but I wrote this imagining it was a post-ROTJ cleanup mission or diplomatic meeting. I struggled to settle on a premise, then made myself laugh at how impractical this would be but it's the fantasy (tm). Would love to maybe expand upon rotj!Luke having simultaneous shame and desire to watch reader/be watched himself. It's not what a good Jedi should want, is it? Anyway! let's get into it!
sounds
The Millennium Falcon has crew quarters. Of course, there has to be somewhere to sleep. But it doesn't mean there has to be any privacy, apparently. You think it's obvious that Han is used to living here alone or with his buddies– the tiny single beds all cramped into one small room, with no walls separating them. You'd liken it to staying in barracks, but even at the rebel bases you'd have your own sleeping space, no matter how small.
You're not used to sharing a room. It's driving you crazy, not having any manner of solitude at any time of the day. You don't mind sleeping in the same room as your friends, except... you're sexually frustrated. It's impossible to take care of your needs with everyone else around.
It would be significantly less difficult if you weren't harboring a huge crush on Luke that you theorize is reciprocated. You couldn't be sure, but he looks at you like that sometimes, like he could see right through you; like he was contemplating something about you, but you never could tell what. You wonder if it has something to do with the Force, but don't ask, mostly because he pretends he wasn't staring when you catch him.
Your relationship with Luke is not cut-and-dry. Having known him a few years, he's changed, and you've grown close, and apart, and close again, but it was never the right moment to tell him how you felt about him. Lately, though, since the end of the war, something has shifted once more, and he's happier. Lighter. Maybe the moment was now? you think for a half second.
You make the mistake of allowing yourself to think of being with Luke for a moment. You imagine kissing him, letting him touch you, and especially, for some reason, him on his knees in front of you.
No, you can’t confess your feelings to Luke like this, not with the deep heat in the pit of your stomach and a wetness growing in your underwear. You scold yourself for feeling needy enough to be sidetracked. If you're this distracted, you reason, you ought to just deal with the problem.
Han, Leia, and Chewie are off-ship doing something important and meaningful to the mission. Luke is fiddling with one of the Falcon's processors and other small repairs, so he's busy, distracted, nonetheless. He shouldn't even notice your absence.
You weigh your options, and head towards your bed, not noticing that the door at the end of the short hallway doesn’t close all the way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The door to the crew quarters is bizarrely jammed halfway open, and Luke sighs to himself as he prepares to remove the control panel off the wall and fiddle with the wires until it’s fixed. It’s not unusual to him, knowing how much the Falcon has gone through, that something like this might need repairing.
What raises red flags is the tiny noise he hears filtering through the gap in the door— like a quiet gasp of pain or frustration.
Sound carries in the old ship like crazy.
Luke pauses, his mental shields still up. He knows you’re onboard somewhere, but he figured you were restocking supplies or otherwise preoccupied. Why are you in bed? Are you ill?
He hears a faint moan from you, which could have been described no other way but erotic, and he arrives at the startling conclusion that you are not ill at all.
What to do? Well, the appropriate answer would have been to walk away, he reasons, but he can't seem to make himself move at all. Unwisely, he remains motionless outside of the jammed door, as frozen in his tracks as he had literally been on Hoth, but contrary to then, he feels a burning heat as his face flushes red.
"O-oh, mh!" you exhale quietly, but Luke can hear it.
He can hear the soft rocking of the flimsy bedding if he listened hard enough.
And he was listening.
Luke blindly wonders what you look like right now. The door is ajar far enough that he could theoretically look inside, but he'd have to peer around the corner of the room to see you, and he still can't move. He standing like a statue, eyes wide, letting his imagination run wild, untamed and undisciplined.
The embarrassment of not being able to rationalize his way out of this has yet to catch up to him. Polite and proper Jedi do not listen to their beautiful, attractive friend moan and writhe and pleasure themselves, but he's picturing it. He's picturing you, your legs spread and your fingers deep inside your pussy, dripping out onto the sheets unabashedly. Or maybe you're humping a pillow, or teasing your tits, or maybe you've got some type of toy buried inside your cunt, impaled on a dildo that wouldn't even compare with the size of his cock.
Luke suddenly has the thought that he could get you off better than any toy, or even yourself, or that he'd at least like to try. He'd give you anything you wanted, get down on his knees for you–
Luke sets his jaw, trying and failing to snap back to reality. His cock is filling out, more than half-hard in his trousers, pressing uncomfortably against his restrictive pants. He shouldn't touch himself. He won't.
He really, really wants to.
He's interrupted by the sound of your voice again. You're getting louder, and he imagines you getting closer and closer to your impending release.
"Fuck, just fuck me," you whine, to no one in particular, but stars, it sounds a lot like you could be speaking to him.
One hand slides down his torso, lightly palming at his clothed cock, if only for a moment. The brush of contact nearly makes him gasp, but he stifles the feeling, his cock twitching and his stomach muscles tensing. He wishes he could see you so badly. He knows you'd be gorgeous.
Luke also knows he shouldn't allow his mental shields to deteriorate any more than they already have. He shouldn't relax into this, let himself listen to you while he touches his cock. It's wrong. It's against his better judgement. It's scandalous. And it's irresistible.
The second he lets his mental shields dissolve, your emotions overwhelm him. Lust, desire, desperation, for him all come flooding from your mind. He isn't reading your mind, can't picture what you're imagining, but he can feel the need rolling off of you in waves, a subconscious reaching for his presence he doubts you even realize you're projecting.
"oh, Luke," you sigh behind the door, just above a whisper, confirming everything.
This is for him, this is about him. He's nearly dizzy, and he utterly fails to muffle his soft moan as he grasps his cock through his pants.
He immediately senses your distress, mingling with his own. There's some panicked rustling on the other side of the door, before you appear in front of him, hair in a slight disarray, pants low on your hips. You're not angry or upset, but you are startled and self-conscious, shifting and crossing your arms like you can hide from him.
"What–"
"I–"
You and Luke both start speaking at once. There's a beat of silence.
Luke is wrecked in front of you. You know that you don't look much better, but the visible bulge he's sporting as well as the deepest blush on his cheeks that you've ever seen tells you all that you need to know.
It's fun to make him flustered, even though you hadn't started out with that as your intention. You reason that you should probably be mortified, but you can't bring yourself to feel that way when Luke is so obviously affected by you.
You bite your lip and smile a tiny bit at him, allowing your gaze to land on his aching cock, still aching against the restraint of his trousers.
It breaks his resolve.
“Can I watch you?” Luke asks earnestly. It's not what he means to say, but it is what he wants. His breathing is shaking and his shoulders nearly shudder as he asks.
"Sure," you gesture at him to step inside the bedroom, "and if you're good, I'll let you do more than just watch."
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Buckle up, kids, and settle in, for I'm about to share the tale of what went down in the batrachised household last night. There were battles...bonding...bloodshed (well, not really)...batrachised has been forever changed. Exaggeration? Yes, but let me have this.
My roommates and I live quite contentedly in a Patty's Place-esque arrangement: young women, striking out on their own, cozied up in a little residence we all love quite a bit. It's a darling place, full of nooks, crannies, bookshelves! (of very high importance). It has green spaces; airy rooms; bright kitchens; crocheted frogs; what more could we ask for?
Despite our idyllic situation, there has been one slight mar, only one, on our little hobbithole ideal. Wasps. During the summer, we had to battle wasp nests outside with frequency. To give you a sense of how bad it got, the brave savior deserving of a martyr's crown who normally helped us remove them (roommate's dad) took a look at one giant nest and shook his head with a whistle. We had to hire professional help to get them removed - which, not too bad, just pest control in the end. But still, the wasps were fruitful and multiplying in a biblical fashion.
Enter fall. Enter cold. Most importantly, enter death. Death for wasps, as bugs, to quote calvin and hobbes, died by the bucketful. We were free - or so we thought. Oh, how naive those who have never walked paths of treachery and pain are.
One fine fall day, we found a wasp in the living. Horrible, but manageable. It was dying. I finished the job with glasses, a mask, a jacket, shoes, a broom, and significantly, lots of poison, looking like Don Quixote of the broom closet. Finished. Done deal. I patted myself on the back for being a brave household savior. Really, this was the proof that I was a strong independent woman. Good on you, batrachised, I thought.
Then, a second wasp appeared.
Horrible, and less manageable. One wasp is an accident - a door left open too long, a window with a ripped screen. Two wasps is a pattern. Two wasps means more wasps.
However, this wasp was very dead from the get go. I pondered. What to do? Then as so many other fools have done throughout history, I chose to blind myself to the truth. Two wasps - what a freak incident! A pattern, to be sure. But how could there be more? We never saw any buzzing around. Odd. Horrible, But still manageable.
I'm sure you can guess what happened next. Another one appeared, this one alive and angry. Clifford roommate got home at 1AM and had to fend off an angry wasp with a broom and poison, until it disappeared and she decided to throw up her hands and go to bed as was necessary, right, and just. We could no longer ignore the reality in front of us. I called pest control.
The pest control man arrived. He was a cheerful, gregarious man who smelt strongly of cigarette smoke. I decided he was a man to be trusted, most especially when he chipperly let us know that no, we shouldn't pay pest control at all! What a waste of money! The wasps, you see, are in the chimneys. He could remove them for several hundred dollars and the inability to access our house for several hours, or...we could just start a fire. It would get hot in the chimney, they'd get uncomfortable, and they'd leave. Smoke theory and all that.
Great. Fantastic, even. We save several hundred dollars, and get to have a cozy fire! Win win. Maybe we could even make hot chocolate and put on Christmas music! Perfect for the Christmas season. We decided tonight was the night. A half hour of our time, then done.
We received two warnings though.
First, the gregarious pest control man had let us know to be careful when opening the flue, as wasps can fall. "Just jerk your hand out quickly," was what he sagely said in so many words. I repeat, we decided this made sense. After all, we could close the metal curtains. That would keep those ol' darn wasps away. Still, we approached the flue carefully.
Second, my little sister. She listened to our plan skeptically. She gravely said (paraphrasing), somber as a small child, "But these are southern wasps." I laughed. Why shouldn't I? We had heard from our dear friendly expert. She finished with a (paraphased again) line of "What if the wasps go down instead of up?"
Well, there's a fire, little sister! Surely they wouldn't!
Flashforward to us in front of the fireplace. My roommate reaches and opens the flue. There's a thud. The sound of something falling. But nothing swarms out. We release a breath.
Neither of us have lit a gas fire before, so we don't know how and have to look it up--and then, in the meantime, my roommate notices:
A wasp.
In the (unlit) fireplace. Nestled in the fake logs. Looking cozy as a demon thorn with wings can.
We decide worriedly to tape the metal curtains shut. They would protect us, remember? These curtains of chain metal (you might be familiar with chain metal as the one full of holes). Tape them shut. I run to get tape. My roommate watches the wasp. The curtains are taped shut. Ah, another sigh of relief. We continue our research into gas fireplaces.
When we look back, the wasp is on the outside of the curtains.
Reader, here I will be honest: if you're expecting a giant nest to fall down, and us to have to run for our lives, this does not happen. Or at least, it has not happened yet. But in that moment, that trembling, unsteady moment, we knew that anything was possible. We didn't know that a giant nest wouldn't fall. But we did know that we had committed. We had opened the flue. We had woken the beast.
Fear strings through the air tensely, but we continue. Roommate bravely lights the fire. Half an hour. Half an hour, then we're safe.
My memory of the next few minutes is shaky, but I remember one clear, bright detail gleaming out among the rest:
We saw more wasps.
One flew through the air. Slow, lazy. Unhurried. But assuredly directly headed for us.
Both of us scurried out of the room like we'd seen the girl from the ring.
Reader, the wasps had come down instead of up.
Three wasps, to be specific. Even as I sitting here writing this, it's possible we missed more. There was a fire roaring that would hopefully prevent more. But that did little to assuage our fears. I now understand what it's like to live in a horror movie. Around every corner, danger lurks. Danger lurks behind the curtains. Danger lurks in the lights. Danger lurks in the blankets. Nowhere is safe. Anything can happen at anytime. There are creatures in your house, waiting to attack for no reason. It's not your house at all, in fact: it's theirs. The house is on their side. It hides them, cloaks them, shelters them, and in doing so, destroys you (well my mental stability anyway).
Half an hour, and then we're safe. The problem was, that whole half an hour factoid didn't seem to ring quite true anymore. What I was realizing with a cold, gripping understanding, was that there might not have just been one wasp nest in that chimney - there might have been many. If not a downright giant hive. And we had lit a fire, right under their home.
It was time to discuss backup plans. We came up with an escape route on the off chance it was a big swarm. We grimly got out the wasp spray. And most horribly of all, we waited. Waited sturdily. Waited fearfully. My roommate made soup, then froze. "Did you hear that buzzing?" No, I hadn't. Did she hear a distant buzzing in the chimney?? No, she hadn't.
We scoped out the enemy's territory. There was a scout on the ceiling, still except for the occasional shift. Another lazily flew through the room. We had been invaded.
All throughout, that waiting for the worst, something was edging through the back of my mind, snaking through
We were going to have to turn the fireplace off and close the flue. Or, in other words (1) enter the wasp territory (2) turn off the wasp deterrent, and (3) stick our hand up the wasp-infested chimney. It was very much the moment in the horror movie when they realize the only way out is through. We had our velociraptor in the kitchen, except it was a ton of wasps in the chimney. What's more, we had our chosen weapon of poison, but our chosen weapon couldn't be used because the wasps were coming from the lit fireplace, unless we wanted to start a chemical fire.
Half an hour passes. We decide to wait longer. Better to be safe than sorry.
Finally, after an hour, we glance at each other. We have a somber discussion, akin to tributes from the same district about to enter the hunger games arena. How long to run the fireplace? Would more time matter at this point? Who would close the flue?
I decide if I go down, I'm not going down without a fight. Much like a few weeks earlier, I grab a jacket. I make sure I have my glasses on. I grab a mask to cover my face. I have shoes on my feet. I get an extra shoe to put on my hand. I have a potholder on the other hand to close the flue. Don Quixote (Don Avispa?) has returned.
We march into the enemy territory. The enemy watches from above. Bravely, we steadfastly ignore it. I ask my roommate to watch my back and cover me as I turn towards the side of the room. First step: close the windows. Visions of thousands of wasps hiding behind the curtains dance through my head (at this point you should have realized i have no common sense about wasps and would die immediately in a zombie apocalypse). I ripple the curtain gently. Nothing. One window down. Next window: again, nothing. Another window down.
Now, time for the fireplace.
Wizard Hat roommate insists on sacrificing herself to the flue. She's done before; she has the muscle memory. Both of us are concerned that closing the flue will jostle the wasps and cause more to fall down - wasps that if still living, have to be very angry. I hand her the potholder.
The flue closes without incident.
We wait, holding our breath.
No more wasps.
With not a little relief, although still edgy, we make our way to the other room. We still have wasps in the house, but for now, the risk of having a torrent of wasps come down the chimney seems to have abated. I will never forget, though, that time period of waiting.
We decide to stay up a little longer. Just in case. The fireplace is cooling down now, so in a way there's more risk of wasps.
We go to the other room and sit, making conversation quietly. It's not unlike the ending scene in Jurassic park where they're in the helicopter, bruised, worn, but still alive.
It's then I look up. And heading straight for me, straight and low, is a wasp.
We leap up. I hear its buzzing in the room, and I grab the poison. Enough is enough. This wasp is dying tonight.
It feebly lands on the fireplace, and we see that it seems to already be dying. The Lord is merciful when he wants to be. Unfortunately, its proximity to the fireplace means that I can't spray it safely. We talk, waiting for it to move, but then we lose sight of it. My roommate briskly goes to cover her chicken soup. "I don't want a wasp to fall in it." Wise words, and wiser priorities.
It's when she finishes that she notices it on the floor, still somewhat feebly dying.
I have to admit, I'm not the coolest head under pressure. We could have just waited it out. But I had had enough. Wasps? Wasps in my house?? Wasps that had tried to divebomb me??
I went a little berserk, even trigger happy, and sprayed the ever living bejeesus out of that wasp. The spray said it killed on contact, which did not turn out to be true because that wasp was KICKIN'. On the floor, but still kickin'. I sprayed it again. And again. And again.
Finally, it stilled. RIP, wasp. (Rest in Poison).
However, we then faced the fact that I had created a giant puddle of poison smack in the middle of the floor that we now had to clean up. We got out rubber gloves (I noted them for future use of fighting wasps, more armor), and paper toweled away. Once done, we had to face the issue of where to soak the poison-coated gloves, and decided in a plastic tub on the counter.
And so this tale comes to end (for now). We decided wearily to go to bed. We were done with the day. More wasps may come, but we'd shut the door.
The final cherry on top of the sundae though, was the fact that Clifford Roommate was not home during all of this. This means that she got a series of increasingly frantic texts that looked something like this (I invite you to consider the fact that these wouldn't be out of place in a doctor who episode):
We lit the fire and wasps came out be careful!!
keep the doors shut! we have to keep the wasps out!!
don't turn off the light in the living room...the light distracts them
we've closed the flues. the fire is off.
there's one in the room with us now
we're trying to kill it!!
DO NOT touch the gloves in the kitchen, they're covered in poison
Drums, drums in the deep.
All this to say, if ever you decide to light a fire to chase away wasps, be prepared. They might just come down instead of up.
#i now know what it is to live in jurassic park and i now know i would die immediately#poor wizard roommate had to be the lead#long post#anyway here's hoping more wasps don't come out :)
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I find it curious Link Click uses the twins flashback to shove on our faces right away the parallels between Cheng Xiaoshi and Li Tianchen. Both combative boys, protective of their family, somewhat naive in different ways and quite enamoured with looking cool. So yeah, there's parallels, but to be fair the writing is good enough that you can find parallels with the main duo regarding any of the new s2 characters. And I think Link Click cleverly does that so we only realize closer to the finale what is, in my opinion, the strongest parallel: Cheng Xiaoshi and Li Tianxi.
They are both "the babies" of the group. Whereas Cheng Xiaoshi has two endlessly nagging friends who often scold him and push him to do better, Li Tianxi lost both her mother and a brother capable of caring for her, thus her needs go ignored as she grows up with Qian Jin. Qiao Ling and Lu Guang work together with CXS to earn a living/pay off his debt, LTX is used by her family to carry out the shady stuff they don't really need to do (both CXS and LTX get in extremely emotional and vulnerable situations because of it).
Cheng Xiaoshi eventually grows and understands his powers as a duty, and even though LG and QL still try to shield him from the worst*, they look proud whenever he shows what he's capable of (QL even calls him cool!). LTX's one "act of rebellion" is framed as a betrayal and she's straight up murdered. In the confrontation, she even prefers hiding behind CXS, whom she met hours beforehand, exactly bc she knows what her family is capable of.
Both are sensitive people, burdened by well-meaning actions with over-the-top consequences (it hurts to try and explain this one). In (this specific trauma for) CXS case, he was already an adult and in s2 spends the entire time reevaluating and adapting; in LTX's, she was a child and hardly knew how to deal with this guilt and /waves hands/ everything after
I really like this parallel of their running and emotional actions setting off this part of the plot. They cross paths, but the people they help do not have their fate changed significantly by this. But those moments where they FEEL Emma (+Lu Guang in this specific parallel) and Chen Bin were enough to carry LTX and CXS both into their roles in the story.
LTX finally "goes back" to the home she idealized, CXS is waiting at home for his parents. They cross paths, both get shot in that tunnel, but just as quickly go down opposite directions. LTX out of care for her (criminal) brother, parts with him; while CXS waits, he also built a new home for himself with new people he can call family. There's hope for him yet.
*tbh they're a biiiit controlling, but I can see that habit developing through the years, not because they don't mean well
#link click spoilers#link click#shiguang daili ren#cheng xiaoshi#li tianxi#I'm pretty sure I'm missing things but anyway who did cxs possess when he went to the past? exactly#oh look it's the dead ones of the trios (lovingly)#does it count as something in common to have QL basically adopt them both? lmao#huh. I just realized that in the all-white shot only cxs has a shadow. probably bc of the point LTX's walking cycle is but heey#also. I'm trying to put it in order in my mind but LTC and LG also relate in some interesting ways#btw people are welcome to chime in
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