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12-seconds-to-live · 11 months

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(Un)Lost: The art of war

Pairing: F12022/3!Grid! x Fem!Driver!Oc

Warnings: DNF’s, angst, a little bit of love, episodes of anxiety, Seb’s retirement, harsh words.

DRIVE TO SURVIVE SEASON 5 - EP. 1 THE NEW ERA

“It’s freezing in here” I said while I was puting my cap in my head, my Williams cap, ready to sit in the famous black chair of Netflix. “Thank you Netflix for make this possible, Bahrain is being cooking itself now” The producer chuckle.

“So, we’re going to let you introduce you and then make you a few questions. Everything clear?”

“Sure” I look for a better position in the chair and look to the camera “My name is Charlotte Robyn-Jones and I’m engineer strategist for Williams Racing Formula One Team” I said with a smile on my face. I saw the people in the back laugh and I copy the action

“You can’t lie to Netflix, kid”

“I think I just did ... Anyway, 1, 2, 3, Monday to Friday, My name is Charlotte Robyn-Jones, I’m 23 and I’m a race driver for Williams Racing Formula One Team” I tilt my head to one side and laugh “Cool”

“So cool. What’s for you to be at the top of the game right now?, obviously avoiding the question that you must be bored about”

“Being a woman is fantastic, except for that thing every month but I can’t complain. I have to say that it’s not easy. You can dream of some things happening but all the same time, If you really wanted, the answer is get up and look for your better options to make things happen.” I gassped and look down and to the camera. “I remenber when I told my dad that I wanted to give it a try in karting and I wasn’t even 6, he looked at me like I was some sort of silly muppet but then he make me promise that I will do great in school and then he will help me with the racing carreer I wanted. The rest is history”

A series of videos of her carreer show up, from her beginning in karts, F4, F3 and her successfull 2021 in F2 finishing as champion, smiling faces all around and obviously a very proud Charlotte.

“You just mention your dad. What about other members in your family? Friends or even a boyfriend?” I look at the producer with a side smile

“You guys are really something else, right?” they laugh “I’m single ready to mingle. I don’t talk to much about my family, I like to be private about that. I almost dropped all this. My family is my priority and two years ago I lost my mom due cancer so...”

“I’m sorry we don’t...”

“No, it’s okay” I smiled to the camera “She’s not here but I still talk about her like she’s just in the back of the house screaming to the dog for being so silly, she’s still here and I know she’s proud”

“Sure she is. Just to finish ... Any expectations for your team. Everybody wanted to see you in a bigger team like Mercedes or Ferrari, did you hear any rumors about that?”

“Well, certanly I did hear, but the thing is, mmm, I always believe that If you wanna prove yourself is better to start from the very bottom, understand the little things and then you’ll find success, almost glory. Being in this sport is so tricky, like, one day you won in Monaco and the next day you’re out of the points or feeling that all your pasion is going out to your body” I see everybody’s faces like I was saying something fascinating “This is sport is like war, you better watch out your back ‘cause even your own team could kill you.”

“So, this is your year to discover yourself?”

“Yes, my bingo card this year will imply me being playing the art of war that is F1″

“Okay Charlotte, this is all for today. We’ll see you along the year”

“Thanks and don’t spill my secrets. Snitches end up in ditches, they say”

I go out of the room straight to the Williams garage. Sure thing is that this year is going to be wild, after what happened last year between Red Bull and Mercedes, man, I really don’t want to be any member of those teams.

“Hello Ms. Jones, everything all right with Netflix?” My PR, Ava asked. She was in Alex side of the garage talking to other people

“Yeah, they’re like school girls” She laugh

“Yeah, sometimes. Today is media day so since you’re ready with your Williams merch, we can start signing some caps and cards and then continue with your schedule. Or do you want to start with press?”

“Up to you really, better doing the easiest first then I’ll face the sharks” We walk to a conference room when I found Alex with his girlfriend and his PR. Last year I met the girl in a tournament in the UK and we have been really close since then.

“Oh hello you, my girl and my boy rocking together this year” Lily said and hug me, while Alex put a false angry face

“Nice to see you Lily and yes, we’re going to rock or better than that” I said she smack Alex shoulder

“See, I tould you she has spirit!”

“I know, I think that everybody saw that video of her running along the track after her win in last year championship”

That video.

Well, you don’t win F2 championship many times in your life, right?

“I don’t know what are you talking about”

“Everybody know you do”

“Shh” I sit next to the pile of merch with my face on it. It’s 9:45 so I have time ‘till lunch and more interviews.

INTERVIEW ROOM @14:20

W/ Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton and Sebastian Vettel

“Don’t be nervous, ok? I’m not gonna tell what to answer, you’re smart so answer like a pro”

“Like a pro? So I can say <<inchident>> or even ask about the interviewers plans for the summer?” I showed Ava a side smiled

“Please don’t and you’re going to be in between, your name is on the sofa” I enter the room and saw the amount of people organized in the back of the room with notepads, cameras and tricky looks.

“So, welcome everybody to the second session here in Bahrain, we are here with Lando Norris from McLaren, Carlos Sainz from Ferrari, Charlotte Jones from Williams, Lewis Hamilton from Mercedes and Sebastian Vettel from Aston Martin. Welcome to the drivers, we’re going to have a round of questions for this sesion, if that’s ok” I look at the others who nod.

“Hello, this question is for Charlotte” Great. “We want to hear your first impresions of your new team, if you have the chance to meet the other drivers and expectations for your rookie season”

I tried to smiled but I suddenly felt like I wanna dissapear and the lights we’re too bright so I put on my glasses and I hear Lewis laugh and how he copy my action and take the microphone “It’s sunny outside so there’s no need to put the light to bright, thanks guys” And squeezed my hand.

“Yeah, lights, mmm, almost everybody saw me in the car last year when I met the team and my teammate. Everything has been great so far, mmm I spent half of the holidays with the Sainz family, there been close to my mom’s family so, yeah, Carlos and his trainer just help me to get in better shape for this rodeo, something that I’m grateful for” I fist bump with Carlos and laugh “And expectations, well, I prefer to see how it goes after the race, I sent my ideas and questions the past month so I know now that the car is fast and let’s see If we can put Williams on the top again”

Sebastian took the microphone and look at me “Do you know about engineering?”

“Yeah, I finished my degree in mechanical engineering last month, obviously online, so...”

“That’s impresive, kid” answer Sebastian

“Am I the only one scared now?” Ask Lando to everybody. Everybody laugh at that. The interview session went smoothly and not many questions were to me, since Lewis was in the room, the events of november where reminded. Questions about strategies and upgrades for Ferrari and Aston Martin and the chances of McLaren of getting a podium this year. After that, the session ended, Carlos stopped me.

“Welcome officially, girasol” He hug me in the process and we heard a cough

“Are you good, man?”

“Since my friend here it’s so disrespectfull, nice to meet you, yo soy Lago”

“Nunca le enseñaste bien español” I said laughing to the spaniard

“Ciertamente él fue un terrible alumno”

“Please don’t. Back to a common language” I smiled to him and oh boy! such beautiful eyes

“Charlotte, rookie, friend of this guy, fan of dogs, chocolate cake and be on my xbox the whole day” I shake his hand and he gasp

“Marry me”

“In a few years, maybe” I look to Carlos who look at me with wide eyes

“I don’t want him on family holidays, ten moths are too much now” As we were walking through the paddock, a few photographers and fans aproach us. Since Carlando were more famous that I am, so I go straight to my motorhome to lay down for a bit.

What a day.

A few headers on instagram and twitter about the conference

2022 ROOKIE READY TO DRIVE AND BEING A THREAT

CHARLOTTE ROBYN-JONES, NEW SENSATION IN THE PADDOCK

IS THIS THE YEAR OF WILLIAMS?

Mind clear and then start proving myself.

I’m a girl, yes, but right now I feel that I have a chance to be like them, it’s ny time.

A champion, one ready to fight.

I finished my day with more media duties, to 6 pm I was going to wait for Carlos who offer a ride to the hotel. While I was waiting in the parking lot, the papaya pair waved at me.

“Hiya, you must me Charlotte. I’m Daniel, the one with good looks in the team” He said with a smile.

“Nice to meet you Daniel, how you guys doin’?”

“All good, we’re heading to the hotel, ready to kick asses tomorrow?” I saw how Lando seems certanly interested in the question

“I’m feeling normal, but yeah, let’s see tomorrow. My driver arrived so... see ya” I waved at them when Carlos opened his car. Daniel and Lando saw the couple leaving the parking lot when the australian looks at the youngest

“Say it”

“What?”

“Why do you look so shock around her? I mean, even Max who lives in a rock knew about her”

“I’ve been friends of Carlos and I never see her around, it’s weird”

“Ooow, the kid is jealous of the newie” Daniel started laughing and going to his car

“Man stop... I’m not jealous and also I’m a man!”

BAHREIN CIRCUIT @13:45 - FP1 & FP2

“Radio check, please” my race engineer said. Williams had the chance to start fourth in the two practices after Alfa Romeo, Ferrari, Red Bull and Alpine.

“ And I thought my heart was detached, from all the sunlight of our past, but she's so sweet, she's so pretty, does she mean you forgot about me? Yeah, yes, I’m going to send you my playlist for the race, what dou you think?”

“We’ll evaluate that after practice”

“It’s not a no, I wil take it”

“Ok Charlotte, 30 seconds to start heating the tyres and whenever you ready, your flying lap”

“Copy”

“Now, we’ll have Williams coming out the pits to start practice, first our rookie Charlotte, fresh out the oven as F2 champion. She’s heating the tyres and has 15 minutes to do a few laps and see how that car goes”

On the broadcast, the faces of the team principals were on screen, with their expectations on the girl and see how she start.

“Ok Charlotte, you can start in the next lap with Leclerc and Ocon in front of you” I pressed the copy bottom. Here I go.

One thing about me it’s that I brake late but my left foot likes to keep itself on the throttle. A girl have to give it all, right?

“I feel like I’m watching the Mercedes W11 all over again. Wow! I can see a future world champion, multiple times If she wanted too”

“That car is fast” said Christian Horner looking to Max’s engineer “What the hell?”

“Definitely it is”

“Toto, even when she brake the car doesn’t go below 170 km/h. what?” Lewis and Bono stand beside the team principal of Mercedes.

“I think that your eight championship have to wait a bit, I can’t believe my eyes”

“That girl is the real Toretto, don´t you think?” asked Yuki to the french man

��I wanna throw myself down a hill to be honest”

“What the f***?, which car is that?, I almost get dizzy” asked Charles over the radio

“That was a Williams, the rookie, she’s 3 seconds faster than you”

“This is going to be a long season. F***”

“Well done Charlotte. With his pace you can certanly win every race this season”

“Haha, good job to everybody from those in the factory to the ones in the garage. What about Alex?”

“As good as you, the difference is 0.337″

“That’s good”

“Yes, we’ll wait for you in the garage”

As I parked, I could heard the applauses from my team and the people around the garage.

And yes.

A very long season ahead.

intro

That was fun.

For those who doesn’t speak spanish, here the translation:

Girasol: sunflower.

Nunca le enseñaste bien español: you never taught him Spanish well.

Ciertamente él fue un terrible alumno: He certainly was a terrible student.

Hope you liked it :)

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midnightasteris · 1 month

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Sebastian is expressing his love for Ciel through flowers

When looking back at all of Yana's previous artworks, where she depicts Sebastian and Ciel often in pictures with flowers, many have debated the significance of flower symbolism in Yana's pieces. While Yana has said that she enjoys playing with flower symbolism in Black Butler art, she never quite stated the reason behind that. It was not until a while ago when I found this information about the significance of flower language in the Victorian era that I understood how much Yana pays close attention to historical context:

"In the Victorian era, when expressing emotions was often considered inappropriate, the giving of flowers was a common way to convey feelings without speaking them aloud." (source).

this gives further meaning to all the flower symbolism Yana uses in her pieces. It's not merely an artistic choice, and it's not merely her liking flowers. It is part of the narrative. Back in the Victorian era, flower language was the most common way people expressed emotions because being open about emotions was improper, especially in high social classes.

which means that her flower drawings with Sebastian and Ciel have way more textual meaning with the flower language. It even gives it an explanation through the lens of the story, rather than her artistic choice. If given an explanation through the narrative, Sebastian may be gifting all those flowers to Ciel as a way to express something in particular. And if we remember correctly, he's gifted him yellow mimosas (they symbolize secret love), and of course, Yana's most recent artwork where Sebastian is giving Ciel a bright red rose in a cup of tea (Which symbolizes romantic love, lust, desire, passion). Perhaps Yana's flower symbolism is tied even more to the story per se because it's saying that the flowers are Sebastian's way of expressing his repressed feelings towards Ciel. This ties more into the theory that Sebastian's character development slowly ties into the fact that he cannot explain why all of a sudden he's falling in love with this mortal human.

Here's the mimosa art, for a deeper look into it. Ciel is wearing the mimosas over his head, in something that might appear to be a hat. Who is the only person who dresses Ciel? Sebastian, of course. Sebastian made sure to delicately place those yellow mimosas over Ciel's head. He wanted to make sure Ciel received the flowers, if not the message.

And a closer look into the new GFantasy cover. The position of the red rose takes significance because it's in a teacup, which means that Sebastian directly handed Ciel the rose, since he is the one that always makes Ciel his afternoon tea. He gave Ciel that rose because he wanted Ciel to notice.

Thus, the historical context takes on more significance when considering what could've been considered an "impropriety" and therefore not morally correct to declare out loud. Sebastian appears before Ciel with yellow mimosas and red roses, while trying to subtly convey the message that he is, indeed, in love with him.

#sebaciel #black butler #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #kuroshitsuji #meta #meta post #sebaciel meta #Flower language #Symbolism #midnightasteris #Sebastian x Ciel #Ciel x Sebastian #red roses #Yellow mimosas #All part of the language of flowers #the language of love

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nymphoheretic · 6 months

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Synopsis: What if Kyoujuro took Akaza's offer and became a demon? He trades his mortality for the immortality of demon. But for some reason, he can't get your sweet scent out of his head. It calls him like a moth to a flame. So, much that Akaza has to bring you along.

Warnings: Black coded!Reader, slight nocon(but they back off), Dubcon, Corruption, Clawing, choking, biting/marking, spitting, knotting, oral (recieving and giving), blood play, darcyphilia, somnophilia, bondage, collaring, usage of the nickname "Pet" from Akaza, pet play, Master/slave, slut calling, humiliation, exhibitionism, dumbification, nipple play, sadism, double penetration, anal, spitroast, claiming, praise, degradation, and just overall roughness(mostly from Akaza). Let me know I missed anything!

Word count: 5.3k

Pairing: Demon!Rengoku x Slayer!fem!reader x Akaza

Tags: the rengoku girlies(gn) @bakugosbratx @renhoeku @glz-100 @herohibiscus @potofstewie @comatosebunny09 @cherryblossomsenpai @linpunny @unknownspecies @yeahitzally @taisho-era-secrets@auraee @diorsbrando @serenesaku @yandere-kou @mrsrengoku @sukunaes @novagirlxoxo @fuyuswifey @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi @sugardollie-907 @ruggiethethuggie @luxesiren @uronlywifey and the network @enchantedforest-network

A/N: The art in the header is a paid commission by me! Done by the amazing Nightly_uwus on Insta!

Smut under the cut! Reader discretion advised!

Akaza turned to you, still holding your jacket closed with one hand as the other searched for something you could fend them off with. A sadistic smile curled at his lips as he approached you. He knelt down on the balls of his feet and peered at your face. “I said a collar.” He said simply as he reached out, his fingertips stopping just short of touching your throat. His shortened nails grew into long talons as his smile widened. “Unless you want to become a Demon, pet?”

You glared at the pink-haired demon as you grit your teeth. You did not want to be collared like a dog, but you refused to become a demon. You lowered your head as your face flushed hot. You were going to be treated like an animal by this demon. Your fist clenched tighter in the fabric of your jacket as you felt his cold fingers glide over your throat as he wrapped something around it.

“There.” Akaza smirked as he placed with the little pink tassel that now hung from her neck. He used one of the tassels that hung from the rope around his waist. ``That should do until a proper collar can be made.” He glanced over at Kyoujuro, who had calmed down, the flames that had surrounded him dissipating before checking the sunlight that still filtered from beneath the door. “Ah....” he whined out, tossing his hands out. “I’m so bored since the sun is up.” He looked back down at his newest little pet. “You should probably get some rest, Pet. We have a long night ahead of us.”

For some reason you did not like the way Akaza said that. You clenched your jacket tighter as you glared at the two demons, your eyes softening a bit when they landed on Kyoujuro. You still loved him despite him betraying everyone. Betraying his family, leaving Senjuro behind, leaving Tanjirou, Zenitsu, and Inosuke without a mentor like Kyoujuro had promised, and finally for forgetting about the years of love you had shared. Now Kyoujuro was a demon with a vague sense that he knew you, but why just you? You scooched over to a corner of the shack and leaned your head against it all while keeping your eyes on them. “I’m not tired. The last time I slept, I was woken up quite rudely.”

Your mind replayed what had happened when you finally regained consciousness. Kyoujuro nestled between your thighs, his hot tongue lapping at your folds, suckling on your clit as Akaza was fondling your breasts, his own wet muscle tracing over your nipples, and having his long thick fingers shoved so deeply down your throat.

You clicked your tongue as you could still taste the pads of his fingers. Your face ran hot as thoughts of Akaza’s mouth on your breasts again while his fingers slowly worked in and out of your mouth flashed across your eyes. You shook your head to try to get rid of the image, but it lingered like the taste in your mouth.

Kyoujuro glanced over at you and wounded why he was greatly attacted to you. While he swore that he would not touch you again until you did not fear him anymore, a part of him demanded that he lay claim on what belonged to him. You were his and that he could touch you as much as he so desired.

And while you gave him a frightened look, Kyoujuro could not help but to thnk that the fear was not because of him, but Akaza. He just had to know. Waking over to you, the newly turned demon kneeled down to eye level with you. “Are you afraid of me?”

You took your eyes off of Akaza to look at Kyoujuro and fought off the urge to blush. He was still so very handsome even if he had become your sworn enemy. “Afraid? No. Angry and hurt? Yes.” you answered evenly, your eyes staring into his flame colored orbs. You could never be afraid of him. He was and still is your one and only love. You loved him so much that it hurts. Yo clenched your fists tighter into the material of your top as you glared at him. “Why?”

“Why? He repeated. Kyoujuro thought about your question, his claws coming up to rest against his chin. “What do you mean, Why?”

“Why did you betray everyone and become a demon, Kyoujuro!” you screamed, your eyes burning with fresh tears. “You betrayed Tanjirou, Zenistu, and Inosuke and left them without a mentor and with the burden of having to slay you one day. You left sweet Senjurou without his beloved older brother.” Tears threatened to fall and run down your face as you continued your rant.

Kyoujuro had so many people that looked up to him and for him to go and betray everyone like this was unacceptable. “You left Mitsuri and the others behind without a comrade! The master will be so hurt to learn that one of his Hashira turned into a demon.” your tears broke through the barrier that held them back and fell down your cheeks. “How could you be so willing to forget about me and the love we shared?”

The blond demon felt conflcition in his non-beating heart. Love? He was in love with you? That would make sense as to why he felt so drawn to you. Kyoujuro felt an intense need to gather your small crying frame in his arms. Slowly, not to startle you, the new demon wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you to his chest.

He placed one hand against the small of your back and the other petted your head gently. Kyoujuro felt the overwhelming need to apologize to you. For some reason he did not like seeing the tears in your beautiful eyes.

You flinched when Kyoujuro suddenly pulled you into his arms, but quickly melted into the familiar embrace. While it felt slightly different due to his new demonic strength, your body knew that it was Kyoujuro’s arms that you were in. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. It felt so good to be comforted by him like he used to whenever you were feeling emotional. “Kyou..why did you leave me?” you asked as you pulled away to look into his glowing eyes.

Akaza sat back on his haunches as he watched the two of you and felt an odd feeling in his chest. For some reason, he wanted to snatch you out of Kyoujuro’s arms, to lick away the sad salty tears that trailed down your face and replace them with fresh tears of pleasure.

He did not want to coddle you or say words of praise to you. He wanted to make you cry, to fuck yo until you were a literal sobbing mess under him. The pink-haired demon flared his aura slightly, concentrating on the pink tassel that hung from your neck. “Come here, Pet.”

Your back straightened as the tassel around your neck began to heat up. What was going on? Why did you feel a sudden need to go to Akaza? You were finally about to get some answers from Kyoujuro, now this damned collar was acting up. You tried to grab it, but it burned your fingertips.

“Ow!” you yelped, blowing your hand. You glanced over at Akaza from Kyoujuro’s shoulder and saw him beckoning for you. You shook your head and clung to the blond. You felt more safe with him than Akaza. “No...” you tried to ignore the burning sensation the tassel caused.

“Come to me, my pet.” Akaza cooed as he crooked a finger at you. “Your master wishes to comfort you.” He used his words carefully as Kyoujuro was still very protective of you. If his creation sensed that he was planning on making you cry for an entirely different reason, Akaza did not want to think about that. He flared his aura a bit more, causing the tassel to glow a luminous red. “Come here.” He commanded with a sly smile. “I won’t hurt you.”

Kyoujuro looked a bit confused. Why was it everytime you got too close to him and asked him of his past did Akaza interfere? Biting his thumb with his fang, he quickly squeezed out a drop of blood and touched the tassel. He then flared his own aura, overwhelming Akaza’s control. “Stay where you are, Fireball.” The nickname flowed off his tongue easily, almost too naturally. He then turned to a confused Akaza. “I want to know more about her, Akaza. Stop interrupting me.”

Akaza bit his lip. What would happen if he let Kyoujuro talk to you and he somehow regained his memories? This would be Tamayo all over again if that were to happen. But if he would come between Kyoujuro and you now, a fight would surely break out and they would end up destroying their shelter from the sun’s harsh rays.

Relaxing his stance, Akaza backed down. He had to hope that the amount of blood he’d given Kyoujuro would be strong enough. He shrugged his shoulders, “Do what you want. I’m going to sleep.” Akaza then moved back over the opposite wall and laid down on his side. “Wake me when the moon is up, Kyoujuro.”

You sighed as the burning sensation finally subsided and you touched the soft pink tassel. Your face still felt sticky from your tears drying, but you looked back over to Kyoujuro, who was still in a rather protective stance. “Thank you.”

Kyoujuro glanced over to you, eyeing your shirt that now hung slightly open now that your hand was not clenched tightly in the material. “I didn't do it to save you. I have questions that only you can answer.” He reached out and grabbed you by the arm and moved back over to the further end of the hut. Removing the flame haori from around his shoulders, the demon handed it to you. “Here. Cover up with this.”

You took the haori from him, his warm scent still clinging to the fabric. Tears swelled in your eyes again. Kyoujuro had often lent you his haori on cold winter nights when you cuddled under the stars before making sweet love. You held back the tears and wrapped your body in his cloak before looking at him.

“I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.” you said, staring into those beautiful glowing eyes of his. Eyes you could still get lost in just by gazing deeply in them. You started to feel that familiar heat in your belly the longer you stared into his eyes. You broke eye contact briefly before his hand shot out and grabbed you by the chin.

“Do not look away from me.” He said softly. “I agree to your terms.” His thumb rested on your plush bottom lip and he struggled with the urge to stroke it and to pull you into a passionate kiss that would leave you breathless and panting for more. “I feel so drawn to you. Your scent calls to me and it makes it so hard to not strip you down and devour you and not in the demon sense.” He smirked slightly, causing your face to warm with a blush. “Akaza says that it's because we must have been lovers when I was human. Is it the truth, little one?”

Your heart thumped painfully in your chest when Kyoujuro called you by that name. It was the name he always called you when he was buried deep within your walls because you were so small in his arms. Your face heated further as your eyes darted to his lips before flickering back to his eyes.

“Yes, we were to be married. You’ve been courting me for nearly a year now.” you watched as the blond nodded his head, seeming to accept your answer. That ball of heat in your belly grew when he released your chin and trailed the tips of his fingers down the side of your neck. You swallowed thickly, “Is that all you want to know?”

Kyoujuro looked down at you, your scent becoming intoxicatingly sweeter the more his fingers traced over your skin. So it was not him that frightened you. He aroused you. “I will answer your query before asking another.” he said simply. His eyes never left your face, zeroing in on your perfect, cute mouth. He wanted to kiss you so badly that his jaw ached from him clenching so tightly.

You fidgeted with your fingers as you stared into his eyes. You noticed how they were downcast slightly, looking at your mouth. “Uhm...” you started, your tongue coming out to wet your lips. You watched how his eyes followed your pink muscle as if he was mesmerized by it. You glanced over to the spot where Akaza lay and saw that he was indeed sleeping, his hand scratching his stomach as he snored. “Why? Why did you become a demon?”

Kyoujuro snapped his eyes back up to your face, pupils dilating as your question reached his ears. “You want to know why?” His lips curled up into a smile as he moved in closer to you, his hand coming up to wrap around yourneck. “I just didn’t want to die. Why should I have to give up my life and die for the demon corps? I was going to die.”

Tears began to swell in your eyes as you grabbed at his arm. “You said to die as a human is one of the most beautiful things!” you yelled. “That’s what you said! You said you would never become a demon! Why? Why did you betray my trust in you? Why did you betray Tanjirou, Inosuke,and Zenistu! Why did you betray the Demon Corps and the Master?” you bit your lip and blinked hard to keep the tears away as your voice started to get a bit more loud. “Why did you betray Senjuro, your beloved little brother!”

His hand tightened around your throat as Kyoujuro pulled you in closer to him. His eyes burned into yours as he growled. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I only want to know about you and why you have such a spell on me.” His words came out a bit harsher than he wanted, but his demon blood was starting to boil and those tears in your eyes were making him feel sick to his stomach.

“No more questions.” Kyoujuro whispered, his nostrils flaring to take in more of your intoxicating scent. Even with his hand wrapped so tightly around your neck, you did not fear him. It actually aroused you even more.

You knew you should be scared, angry and definitely not attracted to this demon, but it was your Kyou. He still looked like your Kyou. Your body still remembers his touch. Even with his hand around your neck, he’s still being so gentle with you. You could not stop yourself.

Your hand slid up his arms until your fingers wrapped around his biceps and your other hand came to rest on his cheek. “Kyou...” you whispered softly. “I...I’m sorry.” you did not know what else to say. You knew you should hate him now. He was a demon, a pawn to Muzan. “What else do you want to ask me?”

The blonde demon stared into those enchanting eyes of yours, the longer he stared the more he wanted you. He wanted to see those eyes of yours with tears of pleasure, not pain. He softened his grip around your neck until he moved his hand up to caress your cheek. “You’re so beautiful, little one.” Kyoujuro purred, staring into your eyes. His thumb rested on your bottom lip, stroking it softly as he slowly began to lean in.

You should have turned away, pushed him away. But instead, you followed his lead and leaned in closer. You could feel his cool breath on your lips. You let out a soft moan when his mouth slanted over yours as his other hand came up to grab your face. You slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him in close to your heated body. You wanted him when he was human and you still wanted him as a demon. Your heart only saw him as your Kyoujuro. Slowly, you pushed your tongue out and parted his lips. You needed him so badly. “Kyou...” you whined before his tongue slid into your mouth.

Kyoujuro tilted your head back, deepening the kiss as he slowly moved one hand from your face to stroke the exposed skin of your neck and collarbone. He curled his tongue around yours and sucked it into his mouth, drawing another sweet sounding moan from you.

Gods, they were like music to his ears. He slowly moved his cloak off of your shoulders, taking your black demon slayer corp jacket with it. He pulled away from your delectable lips to look at your body. “You’re so fucking beautiful, little one.”

Your face heated with embarrassment and you tried to cover my chest with your arms, but he caught them in one hand and held them above your head. The look in his eye told you that your actions displeased him. His other hand trailed down the side of your neck to your chest, the tips of his claws ghosting over your skin softly. You bit back a moan when he twisted a nipple, tugging it slightly. “Shit...” you panted.

The blond leaned in and licked a wet stripe down the side of your neck, following the path his fingers just made. He stopped just before his tongue could circle over your sensitive bud and he looked up at your face. “If I continue, you are mine. Understand?” He watched as you nodded your head before biting your lip in anticipation. “That also means that Akaza will have you too.”

You were briefly reminded of the pink tassel that hung from your neck. Your temporary collar that bound you to not only Kyoujuro but the sleeping demon across the room form you. While a part of you wanted to rebel and deny that the pink haired man had any claim over you. A part of you, a carnal lust, wanted him. And wanted him badly. Despite the fact that you just had Kyou’s tongue in your mouth, you could still taste Akaza’s thick fingers on your tongue. The bitter, slightly metallic taste of blood that clung to his skin was heavy on your tastebuds. “Yes. I belong to you and Akaza.”

No sooner than those words left your lips, Kyoujuro ran his long tongue over your nipple, closing his lips over it. He played and tugged on the other one with his free hand, drawing more of those moans from you. His tongue lavished your breast, circling the tip with his fangs before using the tip of his tongue to toy and flick at it. He felt you pulling at your wrists, wanting them to be freed of his grip and he let you, groaning when you immediately tugged at his hair. His pupils narrowed into slits as he looked up at you, “Do that again. I liked that.”

You nodded your head. He was still your Kyoujuro. Kyoujuro loved having his hair pulled during sex and you were happy that he still remembered it. “Ahh~” you let out a loud moan when his fingers ghosted over the sensitive spot down the center of your back, claws trailing over your skin.

Kyoujuro smirked at you as he laid you down on his hashira cloak and that brought a tear to your eye as it reminded you of how he would do that when the two of you would make love outside under the stars. “You’re still my Kyou. Still so gentle.”

The demon looked down at you, his head tilted before a slow smile spread over his lips. “I am not the Kyoujuro you fell in love with, human.” His fingers came up and twisted your nipple roughly as his mouth fell against your neck, fangs scraping the flesh there. Your sudden shocked and pained moans drove him to keep moving. His other hand skimmed down your body until it cupped the heat between your thighs.

He could still feel the dampness from your previous orgasm not too long ago and smeared the stickiness over your pussy lips. “Remember that I am a demon. I am not a gentle lover. I wish to see your face covered in tears of pleasure and pain that only I can provide. He used two fingers to spread your lips and pressed his thumb against your clit roughly.

Moans were torn from your throat as Kyoujuro rubbed harsh circles over your sensitive nerve. You tried to grab his wrist, but the look he gave you was a warning enough. If you tried to stop him,he could bind your arms and you would be at his mercy. You gasped when a finger slid over your hole before easing inside.

“Ahn~'' your mouth dropped open in a pant and your back arched off the silk of the flame hashira cloak, fingers clenching into the fabric. His claw grazed ever so slightly over your clit, making you jolt even further off the floor.

Kyoujuro watched you slowly come undone by just his touch. He could feel his cock swelling in his pants, begging to be buried deep with these soft, velvety folds his finger was occupying. He leaned down and scraped his fings over your breasts before sucking a nipple back into his hot mouth, pressing it against the roof with his tongue.

“Moan more for me, dear one.” The sweet nickanmes seemed to flow off his tongue naturally betrtaying the rough treatment he was doing to your body. He sped up his thrusting finger, drilling into your opening at such a speed you were creaming over it within seconds.

Tears began collecting in your eyes as your body began to come undone to this demon’s touch. Your cunt was gushing from the intensity of just a single finger within you. The loud squelching sounds echoing in the small area of the hut. You were sure that Akaza would hear them, but when you managed to focus my eyes on his prone form, it looked like he was still asleep.

You let out another sobbing moan as another orgasm crashed over your body as Kyoujruo finally added a second finger, never stopping the vigorous pace he set. Your pussy clenched around his digits as slick coated them aiding in their pumping in and out. The tears broke free and streamed down your face when his thumb rubbed hard, rough circles over your clit as his fangs scraped over your nipple.

The demon pulled away from your breasts when he smelled your tears flowing down your face. He could not stop himself from admiring them as they fell. His tongue slipped out and Kyoujuro licked at the trails on your cheeks. The blond was hooked on the taste of your tears, but he wanted to taste something else. Something much sweeter than these tears.

He licked a trailed down the side of your neck, nibbling slightly at the flesh there before moving lower down your body. His tongue flattened when he reached your stomach, dipping into your belly button.

You felt your body jolt as Kyoujuro traced the tip of his hot tongue down the length of your body. You shivered in anticipation as his fingers slowed, his hot breath fanning out over your dripping cunt. You could still remember the feeling of his tongue on you from earlier, the intense orgasm he had brought you to. “Please...Kyou...” you whined when he removed his fingers to spread your lips even further.

He stared down at your glistening pussy, admiring how pretty it looked, all shiny with slick. He used his other hand to slide up your slit, collecting some of the slimy fluid on the tips of his claws. Kyoujuro pulled his hand away, watching your honey slide down his fingers as he spread them apart. “Just look at how drenched you are for me.” He placed his fingers in his mouth, sucking your juices off. “So sweet, It’s addicting.” The blond demon quickly settled between your thighs, spreading them further apart and licked a wet sloppy line down the center of your aching pussy.

Your back arched off the ground as your hands flew to his hair, tugging and pushing him even closer. Your voice came out in a series of moans of his name in broken bits as his tongue flicked across your clit before he closed his lips over the sensitive flesh. “Ah ah ah~'' It felt like hours that he was down there, long tongue lapping at your honeyed center, two thick fingers pushed so deeply inside and reahcing parts of you that only he could reach. Your body remembered each and every touch, even if it was more rough and faster paced.

Kyoujuro curled his fingers, rubbing against the spongy spot within you that would have you writhing against his tongue. He wanted to taste you again. You were so sweet and he wanted to have your oragsm on his tongue again. “Cum for me, baby girl. Cum on my tongue.” He dipped his tongue in your quivering hole, spreading it apart with his fingers and sucked.

Your back arched off the ground once last time before your oragam hit hard, spraying out on his face and chest. Kyoujuro gredily drunk all you had to offer, his tongue lapping up every drop. He pulled away after placing a slow kiss to your dewy center and wiped at his chin.

You panted harshly to try and catch your breath. That was the best orgasm you ever experienced. It was much better than any of the times you were with Kyoujuro when he was human. You struggled to focus your eyes on the demon between your legs as you felt him slide up your body. Your mouth dropped open in a loud gasp when the large, bulbous head of his cock brushed against your hole, teasing it. “Kyou...I...” you were silenced by a single clawed finger as he stared down into your eyes, his expression strained with barely concealed lust.

“I am going to take you now and there is nothing you can say or do to stop me.” Kyoujuro pushed his pants further down his hips and rubbed the thick tip against you again. He slowly began to push inside you, groaning at the feeling of your soft, velvety walls stretching to accommodate his size. His claws tore into the floorboards when your hands gripped his shoulders, crying out from the pain and pleasure. “Fuck....my cute little Fireball...” He groaned out, sinking in a little more.

Yor hands grabbed at his shoulders as he sunk his thick length in. His cock was so much bigger than what you remembered. It was too much. You could not take all of it. You’d break. “Kyoujuro, s’too much. M’gunna break.”You whined, feeling your hole stretch to take him in more and feeling every single inch. The burn in your cunt brought tears back to your eyes as you pleaded for him to take it out once more, but you were ignored. The throbbing soon was replaced by the most delicious of frictions. “Fuuck...” you babbled, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Kyoujuro snapped his hips, bottoming out within you and held still when your nails ripped down his back. It took every fiber of his being to not disregard your feeble human body and just pound into you and bruising up your insides like the demon he was. “You’re so tight.” He groaned out as his hands went to wrap around your waist, his torso hovering over you. “So tight and all for me.” He pulled out until only the thick, bulbous head was barely inside before pushing it all back in, your slick walls gripping him tightly. “I’m going to fuck you now. Okay, pretty girl?”

You barely nodded before his cock started rocking in and out of your body. You clung to Kyoujuro as your orgasm was approaching rather quickly. Too quickly. Why were you going to cum so soon? He’d just started. Why was your body so sensitive? “Ah~ Kyou...” you moaned out, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

You let out a whine when he grabbed your thighs, pulling your legs from around him and pushed them back against your chest. From this angle, you could see his cock sliding in and out of your clenching hole, your honey coating it more with each thrust. There was a ring of cream forming around the base of his dick and your face heated even more as you tried to cover your face. You were letting a demon have his way with you, letting him make your pussy cream on his cock.

He noticed that you were trying to cover your face with your hands. The blond quickly let go of your thighs and grabbed your hands away from your face and placed them in the crook of your knees. “Hold them. If you let go, I will ruin your next orgasm.”

At her nod, Kyoujuro then pressed two fingers against your lips, pushing them inside your mouth to grab your tongue. “Such an obedient girl.” He angled his hips, the tip of his cock pressing against the spongy spot deep within you. Kyoujuro removed his fingers, now slick with your saliva, and rubbed them against your puffy, swollen clit.

Strings of curses left your, now, hoarse throat. Yor could feel someone other than Kyoujuro looking at you and you turned to where you felt the gaze. Akaza was staring at you with an amused expression on his face.

You wanted to bury your face in my hands again, but you were so close to your next orgasm and Kyoujuro threatened to ruin it if you moved your hands from their place of holding yor legs up. The demon leaned down and grunted in yourear, his thrusts becoming more sporadic. It was then I felt it. A swollen knot that had formed on the base of his cock. “Kyou! No! That won’t fit!”

Kyoujuro leaned down, his forehead pressed against yours as he dropped sweet kisses to your lips. “Yes, it will. Trust me.” He slowly pushed inside, stretching you out even further to accommodate his knot. He was so close. You were so wet for him. “Just breathe, love.”

He felt you clench down even tighter on his cock when he called you that, causing him to whine. He could sense that Akaza was awake and watching him fuck his knot into you, but he could not bring himself to care. Let Akaza watch as he takes you for his own. The thought of being watched made his dick twtich.

The stretch to fit Kyoujuro’s knot was painfully, but the aid of his fingers rubbing quick circles over your clit and his sweet sloppy kisses distracted you as he pushed it inside. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when the thick end finally went inside. “F-feels s’good.” I cried out.

“She looks so fucked out and dumb on your cock, Kyoujuro.” Akaza’s voice echoed through the small room. He glanced at the thin crack under the door and saw the fading sunlight. A smirk crossed his lips as he rose to his feet. “Time to see just how fucked out I can make her.”

229 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 5 months

Text

back to black | regulus black x reader

song; back to black [amy winehouse] pairing; regulus black x fem!gryffindor!half-blood!reader genre; s2l, angst, hurt comfort word count; 6,3k timeline; marauders' era warnings; swearing, implied child abuse, discrimination (of muggles and muggle-borns), references to war, references to death(s) summary; autumn was your favourite season of all time, and not even your lack of mother or friendships could ruin it for you. but, maybe a brooding boy in your year could

this took me fucking forever but here it is!! and a merry christmas to all who celebrate <33

masterlist

"you went back to what you knew."

————————————

Back to black.

Well, technically, as the first time you had only had black hair for a matter of hours before your mother scolded you for dyeing it and made you change it back. But, she was dead now, and you were about to enter the year of OWL exams at Hogwarts, so a change was well overdue.

You gazed down at your black-stained hands: the muggle way of hair dyeing had been the most spiteful way to do it. After all, your mother hated anything muggle, even though she was merely half-blood herself. Part of you suspected it was because your father was a muggle and broke her heart, but you would never be able to confirm that, since you knew nothing about the man.

With a sigh, you glanced into the mirror and observed the wet black mess on your head. It was certainly going to stain your forehead and neck.

"Fuckin' Azkaban," you murmured, noticing the stains all over the sink and floor. Maybe you should have just done it the magic way.

Well, the stains were nothing a little magic couldn't fix: you didn't care that you weren't seventeen yet, after all.

***

Quite honestly, you adored the fact that school started in Autumn, your absolute favourite season. Nothing hit the spot like a Jack O'Lantern spice latte, fresh from the kitchens of Hogwarts. You had discovered the secret entrance to it a few years back, and come by to make requests frequently.

You tightly held the warm drink as you hurried back to the Gryffindor common room before curfew hit, where no friends were waiting for you. You had always felt out of place in the red house, and had never successfully made a friend in it, let alone the other houses. They all had their distinctive groups, while you were simply an outcast. Nonetheless, you did love how Autumnal the Gryffindor colour scheme was.

Ignoring everyone who was still downstairs, you headed up to the dormitories, where you sat down on your bed and chewed on your lip for a few moments. You weren't sure what to do with yourself.

***

Regulus Black was the quiet and brooding boy in your potions, defence against the dark arts, transfiguration - and actually every class apart from divination. That didn't surprise you, as even though you had never spoken to him, he didn't strike you as a particularly spiritual man. All you really knew about him was that his older brother, the renowned Sirius Black, was in your house - and they did not get along.

He was the only person who you shared so many classes with, and that was the solitary reason that you had noticed him. Well, that and his strikingly powerful presence.

You wondered if he realised you shared so many classes together.

Probably not, though. To make up for your lack of friendships, you intensely observed the people around you, trying to pretend as if you knew them and could predict how a conversation would go with them. It was a fun game for someone so deprived as yourself, even more so when you somehow ended up in conversation with someone and got to find out how accurate in your predictions you were.

But you also loved when you were completely wrong about a person.

"A new hair colour, I see, Miss L/N," Professor McGonagall said to you as you entered the first transfiguration lesson of the year.

You nodded, "Felt I needed a change."

The witch gave you a pitiful look that made you sick to your stomach: you hated the fact that people felt the need to tread on egg shells around you because of your mother's death. You weren't upset about it - you hated the woman.

"Black suits you," she said simply, the very same second Regulus Black entered the room.

He looked up, clearly thinking his name had been called.

"Not you, Mr Black," McGonagall waved her hand dismissively, "I was referring to Miss L/N's new hair colour."

For the first time ever, you were pretty sure, Regulus Black looked in your direction and made eye contact with you. His cold grey eyes pierced through you, as if he suddenly knew every secret about you - which he didn't, you had read about legilimency and it didn't feel like that. Just as quickly as he looked at you, he looked away again, and took a seat at the back of the classroom.

You felt a shiver run up your spine - an itching, chilly sensation, that made you feel positively thrilled.

"Everyone, please take your seats," McGonagall said as the class filled up.

You looked around, noticing a few empty spots, but most prominently the space next to Regulus Black at the back of the room. Your feet were taking you towards it before your mind could kick into action, and even though you were convinced that he was glaring at you, you kept your eyes trained on to the professor as you sat down.

"This year in transfiguration, we will cover..."

McGonagall's voice faded into background noise as you became hyper aware of the boy's presence next you, whilst simultaneously doing everything in your power to make it seem like your attention was not on him but instead the lesson.

What had become of you?

***

Smudged eyeliner and a maroon knitted jumper, cold peppermint tea and torn parchment; your mind felt frantic yet empty, gazing out the window of the Gryffindor common room. Starless nights and rain against glass, blazing fire and crackling flames; you couldn't see anything outside, so you couldn't quite piece together why your eyes remained fixed on the blackness.

A sigh pushed through your lips, picking up the tea to take a sip - only for it to go down reluctantly, due to its chilly temperature. Had it really been that long since you zoned out?

Another sigh escaped you as you rose to your feet. You were the only person who remained in the Gryffindor common room, so you estimated that it was at least midnight. Definitely way too late to venture into the rest of the castle: if you cared about punishment, that was.

Pulling out your wand from your dark-washed jeans, you pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and muttered a soft, "Lumos," into the corridor. You anticipated the scream of the painted woman asking where you were headed at such an hour, but at the lack of you turned around and saw that she was presently vacated from her usual spot. Hopefully she would have returned by the time you got back.

You knew the way to the kitchens like the back of your hand, but you rarely took it so late, way past curfew. You were, of course, cautious. It would be insane not to be in an enchanted castle such as Hogwarts, which also happened to be haunted.

Your gut sensed another presence before any of your typical five senses did: lurching as it indicated that you were not alone. You quickly whispered, "Nox," and ducked into an alcove, focusing all your energy into your sense of hearing. Delicate - very delicate - footsteps. So faint you almost thought that you were hallucinating.

They stopped right by you, and you heard a soft breath.

Why did it sound so achingly familiar, yet not like any professor's?

"Who's there?"

Regulus Black.

You stepped out from the alcove and into the light of his wand, crossing your arms in the process. Regulus took one look at you and sighed.

"What do you want, Gryffindor?"

"I have a name," you muttered, "And I would like to think you know it."

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you scowled.

"I want nothing from you, Black, I merely thought you were a teacher."

He seemed to mull over your words for a few seconds, ultimately deciding that there was no way it was anything but the truth before saying, "Very well."

The question itched on your tongue. "What are you doing?"

In the dimmed light, you could only just make out the way he pressed his tongue into his cheek, a bit more aggressively than you would hope for.

"That's none of your concern."

You narrowed your eyes, "I'm pretty sure the last time someone said that, a girl ended up dead in the toilets."

"You-" Regulus cut himself off at the sound of loud, purposeful footsteps echoing down the hallway. He muttered, "Shit," before dimming his wand light and pulling you back into the alcove with him.

You held your breath as the footsteps increased in volume, almost unaware of your hand pressed against Regulus' abdomen, and his arm wrapped around your waist.

"Are you sure he was headed this way, Mrs Norris?" the unfortunate voice of Filch asked, followed by a scratchy meow.

You pursed your lips as the footsteps got quieter, only letting yourself breathe once there was complete silence again. Still, you and Regulus remained in position for a few more seconds.

"I think the coast is clear," you murmured.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Regulus replied distractedly, slipping out of the alcove and letting his arm drop from your waist. You hadn't noticed the warmth that much, but you definitely noticed the lack of it.

"Guess Filch is on to you," you said, to fill the silence more than anything else - which was weird, as you had never been bothered by lack of conversation before.

"Bastard," Regulus replied. Maybe it wasn't a reply, but an unrelated yet relevant comment.

You lit your wand again, and turned to continue on your journey, "I'm going to the kitchens, in case you were wondering," you had hoped it would prompt him to admit to his activities, but he simply remained silent, "You can come if you want."

You had no explanation for adding that last part.

It was obvious that Regulus' first instinct had been to say no, but he must have come to the conclusion that there was really nowhere else to go while Filch was headed off on a rampage towards his original destination. So, he sighed instead, and began trailing behind you towards the fruit bowl portrait.

"Peppermint tea, Miss L/N?" the house elf nearest to you asked after you entered the magnificent kitchens, which were remarkably similar to the Great Hall.

"Actually, I think I'll take a hot chocolate, thank you," you replied, sitting down at the end of one of the four long tables. It was too late for your preferred latte, after all.

"And you, Mr Black?" another house elf asked.

It was evident that Regulus was startled that the creature knew his name, "Americano. Black, no sugar."

You weren't surprised at his request.

"Do you have a house elf?" you asked, as you knew that the Black family was pure-blooded and wealthy.

He gave a curt nod, which you took as a hint that he wasn't interested in conversation. Luckily, the house elves quickly whipped up the hot drinks and placed them in two forest green mugs in front of you.

To your surprise, he asked a question.

"How do you know about this place?"

You shrugged, "I followed the Marauders here one night."

Regulus drew back, and you realised then what a mistake mentioning the infamous quartet was: Sirius Black was clearly a sour topic.

Regardless, you still mumbled, "I think they knew I was there."

He chuckled dryly, "Probably."

"How are you gonna sleep?" you changed the subject, gesturing towards his steaming coffee.

"I won't."

You didn't press that matter further, either. But it was then that you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, sallow and zombie-like. Yet they suited him, enhanced his eery yet attractive looks, which was probably why you hadn't registered them before. They didn't appear out of place.

"Why don't you have a red mug?" Regulus asked, taking you by surprise. He was gazing at the wall display of mugs, sorted into the four house colours.

"Miss L/N doesn't like the red mugs," a house elf piped up, placing a tray of cookies in between the two of you.

"But it's your house colour."

You sipped slowly on your hot chocolate, stewing over the words you could potentially say. "I... don't like being a Gryffindor. I've never felt like I belonged."

"I don't like Gryffindors."

You scoffed, "Never would've guessed."

He raised an eyebrow.

"All Slytherins hate us."

"Yeah, because you're Dumbledore's favourite."

You shrugged.

"That and you allow mudbloods."

You paused in your movements, "So do Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, yet you don't go on a rampage against them."

"Point taken."

The school hot chocolate was delicious, you decided, and you should really have it more.

"What's your blood status?"

You shrugged, "Half-blood."

"I'm-"

"Pure-blood, I know," you sighed, "Even if the Black family weren't a so-called noble house, I would've guessed from your comments earlier."

He stared at you: a piercing, icy glare that almost made a shiver run up your spine. Almost.

"Do you really enjoy leading such a hateful life?"

His mouth parted, before he carefully swallowed and avoided eye contact, "It's not about hatred, it's about what's right."

"And what's right is abusing muggle-borns, even though they were born wizards and witches just like us?"

Regulus said nothing.

"I think that you need to stop taking Mummy and Daddy's word for what it is," you said mockingly, "You have your own brain, form your own opinions with it."

You watched his jaw clench.

"With that, I will bid you adieu," you said, picking up your hot chocolate and a few cookies, "See you tomorrow."

He didn't say goodbye to you as you left, and you didn't wait for him to.

***

Regulus watched you as you entered transfiguration the next day: you felt it before you saw his eyes glued on to you. You ignored his attentions, still sitting next to him but making no effort to engage in conversation. He made no effort either, eventually peeling his eyes away from you when McGonagall arrived to begin the lesson.

In fact, no words were exchanged between the two of you until the very end of the hour.

"I think you're wrong," he muttered.

You looked down at your parchment, furrowing your eyebrows at the answer that you were pretty sure was correct. "It's not animagi?"

"Not about that," he clarified, "About mudbloods."

You exhaled sharply through your nose.

"They aren't worthy."

"You're insufferable," you said quietly, "The existence of muggle-borns doesn't affect you, leave them alone."

"It affects the culture of wizards and witches, which affects me."

"Maybe the culture needs changing," you spat back, "Godric knows you do."

Regulus didn't reply, and you made no further attempt to talk to him.

Not for the rest of your time at Hogwarts.

***

APPROXIMATELY THREE YEARS LATER: 1979.

***

"I can't seem to face up to the facts..." you sung quietly along to the song as you gazed into the mirror of your bathroom.

"I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax..." it was playing from your record player in your bedroom, just through the open door to your right. Your graduation gift (to yourself) had been a record player, a very pleasant addition to the house that you had inherited from your mother. Especially as she hated all muggle items.

"I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire..." It was only three bedrooms, the third being so small it could hardly fit a twin bed in, but the master bedroom was decently sized and had an en suite. And, officially being the master of the house, that bedroom was now yours.

"Don't touch me, I'm a real live wire..." You were dyeing your hair black for the third time in your life.

After dyeing it before fifth year, you had maintained the roots up until Christmas before you went back to your natural colour, and had remained that way up until now. But, you decided that you wanted your raven locks back, and so had stopped by a muggle pharmacy for some black hair dye. There was something therapeutic in doing it manually.

"Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est?" you continued to mumble, finishing up the touches of your hair, just when you heard a heavy knock on your door.

You stilled: nobody came knocking on your door. Your solitary existence remained very solitary.

Grabbing your wand off the counter, you moved into your bedroom and delicately removed the needle from the vinyl, before silently padding downstairs. You crept up to the maroon door and peered through the peephole, fully prepared to yell "stupefy" should you require.

It was the last person you expected - and considering you expected no one, that really said something.

Despite recognising the individual, you were hesitant to open the door, as you knew that said person was a renowned death eater: one of the Dark Lord's loyal followers.

"L/N, please, I know you're there," he croaked, his voice ragged and scratched.

Against your better judgement, you opened the door, only to catch sight of his ripped clothes and dripping wounds. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was longer and messy, and you had absolutely no idea what to do.

"Please, I didn't know where else to go."

You sighed, lowering your wand and stepping back to open the door wide. Godric knows that you would go to hell for helping a death eater like this.

"What happened to you?" you murmured, leading him through to your small galley kitchen. You dug through your cupboards until you found your first aid kit, and then grabbed a flannel and ran it under the hot tap.

Regulus watched you silently.

"Take off your clothes," you muttered, then added, "Except your underwear."

He obliged, and your breath hitched at the gory visuals in front of you.

"Fuckin' Azkaban."

You began cleaning him up, applying a healing potion as you went.

"I should've listened to you."

"Hm?"

"What you said about mud- muggle-borns," his eyes crinkled together, "You-Know-Who- he's... he's..."

"Batshit?" you raised an eyebrow, noting how Regulus avoided his name.

A scratched chuckle came out his throat, "Yeah."

"Did you challenge him to a duel or something?" you asked as you paused your care of him to fetch a glass of water for his throat.

"I'd be dead if I'd done that - no, I've been trying to find his Horcruxes."

"His what?"

Regulus gulped down all of the water before he replied. "There's a reason he's so fearless."

And then came his explanation and story, of how he found out about Voldemort's secret of immortality after realising that he was in the wrong, and had begun hunting down the pieces of his soul in order to destroy him for good. That led on to his explanation of how he ended up in the state he was currently in.

"The locket," he explained, "I went with Kreacher - my house elf - to this cave. I had to drink water that dehydrates you to get to the locket, and the only other water around was in this lake kind of thing. But, of course, it wasn't a normal lake. It was full of inferni."

You mindlessly continued tending to his wounds as you took all of this in.

"They started clawing at me and dragging me in - so I ordered Kreacher to leave with the locket, thinking I wouldn't survive," his voice faltered as he relived the memory, "I don't even know how I did - it's all a blur. But I couldn't go back home, or anywhere I normally go. You-Know-Who knows by now."

"So you came here?" you finally spoke.

"I- yes."

"Even though we hardly know each other."

He stared at you with darkened sorrow in his eyes, and you realised that this was far from the Regulus you knew in Hogwarts.

You sighed, pulling away from him as you finished up with the last of the injuries.

"You're the first person that came to mind," he murmured.

Your eyes flicked to the snake twisting on Regulus' wrist, the permanent sign of devotion to the Dark Lord.

"He's trying to reach me," he muttered, "Is your house well protected?"

You shook your head, "There's no reason they'd come here."

Regulus cursed under his breath, "I'm really sorry to put you in danger, please let me put some protective charms around the place."

You gestured for him to be your guest.

"Am I-"

"Yes, you can stay," you replied. You wouldn't have let him through your door if you hadn't seen the difference in his once cold eyes.

He said nothing, but gave you a look that screamed his thanks as he left through your kitchen door.

***

"He might think you're dead, you know," you said as he came back inside, while you were in the process of laying the table. He had been outside for so long that you had washed out the hair dye from your hair, which was now wet and a bit of a mess.

He didn't reply, so you looked up at his skinny and fatigued figure.

"He probably doesn't think anyone can escape his protective measures."

"Can't take any chances," he eventually murmured, taking a seat, "Thank you for the food."

You gave a small smile, sitting down opposite him. The two of you ate in a companionable silence until Regulus finally said something.

"I won't be here long. I have to continue my search."

You scowled, "No."

He paused, arching an eyebrow, "No?"

"You're in no state to do anything, Black," you said simply, "You'd be fucking useless out there right now."

You watched as Regulus digested your words, "But I can't do nothing."

You shrugged, "You haven't done nothing. I have."

"Yes, but you don't have mistakes to make up for."

The conversation once again flattened to nothing, the odd hint of tension in the air weighing down ever so slightly.

"Why did you do it the muggle way?"

"Hm?"

"Your hair."

"Oh," your eyes widened as you thought carefully, "Mainly to spite my mother."

He tilted his head in confusion.

"She wasn't a very nice woman," you explained, "Shit mother, and she also hated anything muggle. She's dead now, but I do a lot of muggle things to remind myself I'm nothing like her."

"Did she hate muggle-borns?"

You pursed your lips, "Not really, I don't think. Depends how muggle they acted. I've always theorised that my dad was a muggle and broke her heart."

"My parents were awful," Regulus murmured, "When Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor, they gave up on him. But in a way that also made things worse for me, because I was their last chance at the perfect Black heir."

You nodded.

"That's why I resent him so much."

"Maybe one day you two can get along."

He chuckled dryly, "When muggles can do magic."

***

The once sallowed dark aura around Regulus Black had morphed since Hogwarts. It wasn't brighter, that was for sure, you would describe it as a cloudy navy blue - rainy, but not thunderous. Something about him had been replaced and changed, something hard and uncaring, now softer and sympathetic. It wasn't until you were laying in your bed that night with the wind blowing against your window did you realise exactly what it was - he had been traumatised, and thus matured.

Guilt also crept into you from your darkest corners: you had stayed out of the brewing conflict from the death eaters, even though you disagreed with their values. Your cowardice had led you to self-isolate and refuse to fight, bathing in the safety of your half-blood status. Regulus Black showing up on your doorstep was karma if nothing else.

You pulled your maroon quilt further over you and nestled your head into your pillows, trying to crush the lingering sense that your life was only just beginning.

***

The whistle from your kettle blew, filling the kitchen with steam. You let out a yawn as you entered through the archway, and almost jumped when you saw Regulus stood there with two mugs before him. Living alone had been your situation for far too long.

"Good morning," he spoke, but by the strangled way he said it, it was clear that those two words had never left his mouth before, at least not as a pair.

"Morning," you raised an eyebrow, watching as he wandlessly guided the kettle through the air to pour water.

"Milk? Sugar?" he said in question.

"Milk, two sugars."

He hummed in reply, the black shirt that you had lent him clinging to his lean figure. He was skinnier than he should be, that much was obvious, but there was still muscle definition that made your stomach swarm with butterflies. You knew that you had fancied him briefly back in Hogwarts, but you had squandered those feelings when you learned of his political views.

Now he was a changed man, and he was even more attractive than he used to be, and it felt like every butterfly you had crushed had been resurrected all at once. It was overwhelming, and yet the most satisfying experience you had been a part of since the beginning of your dull adulthood.

"Here," he handed you a golden-yellow mug, "I hope it's to your satisfaction."

"Only time will tell," you replied, moving through to the living room.

You sat in a companionable quiet for a while, sipping on your tea and soaking in the ambiance of the morning.

It was when there was almost no liquid left in your mug, and your limbs were growing fidgety, that you felt words race out your mouth before you could think about them. A rushed, perhaps crossing-the-line, statement of, "Stay for a while."

You didn't know whether you meant hours or months.

***

Regulus took a turn for the worse the next day, overcome with vicious fever-like symptoms and ugly coughing fits. The mid-war conditions that you were in made it way too risky to seek professional help, especially as Regulus was a wanted death eater. So, you had no choice but to take care of him to the best of your ability: between herbal teas, homemade soups, leftover cough medicines and cold cloths pressed to his forehead, he seemed to be slowly improving. At least, he wasn't getting worse. But his body was already weakened, so his chances were worse than an average person dealing with whatever he was.

With your hair tied and sleeves pulled up, you ran the white flannel you had been using for Regulus under the cold tap, letting out an exhausted exhale. It had been approximately sixty hours since your guest was bedridden, and you had hardly slept in that time. It was quite difficult to when he would start screaming in the middle of the night during his fever dream episodes.

The pale moonlight slipped through the gaps in your vertical slit blinds, gently illuminating the white china of your bathroom sink, and probably the bags under your eyes as well. Just as you turned off the tap, you heard more screaming from your guest bedroom, so you quickly wrung out the flannel and ran back to Regulus.

"You're okay, you're okay," you murmured, pressing the cloth to his forehead, "You're safe."

His screaming stopped, and you could've sworn his eyes were slightly opened and staring at you through the darkness. "Y/N," he mumbled.

"Yes, Regulus, it's me, Y/N."

You felt his hand grip around the wrist of your hand that held the flannel in place.

"Don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere," you spoke gently.

"In sickness and in health..." he muttered, making you chuckle slightly.

Not forgetting the butterflies, of course.

"Yes, Regulus, in sickness and in health."

"You're... amazing..." he sighed, drifting off again into a lax slumber, his hand falling from your wrist.

You softly stroked his cheek, "Get well soon."

***

You had lost track of the days, but you knew that many suns had set and risen by the time Regulus stumbled downstairs one morning, shirtless and still evidently delirious.

"Good morning," you said, observing the man fumbling to sit down in a chair, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

He grunted.

"Feeling better then?" you asked, moving through the archway into the kitchen and setting out two mugs on the counter.

Regulus raked his hands through his hair, grunting again.

"At least you're conscious," you said half to yourself, half to him.

"Date," he said in a scratchy voice, locking his shiny eyes on to yours.

"What's the date?"

He nodded.

You gazed over at the calendar on your wall, only to realise you hadn't been crossing off the days like you typically did ever since Regulus had fallen ill. Sheepishly, you shrugged, "I don't know."

Regulus sighed.

"Sorry, I've hardly slept."

He shook his head, "Don't apologise, it's not your fault."

You didn't bother refuting that. "On the bright side, I know it's been a good few days. I think You-Know-Who would've found you by now if he was looking for you," you said, adding a, "Touch wood," and touching one of your wooden cabinets afterward.

Regulus seemed to ponder that for a moment, "I guess. Thank you for taking care of me."

"I didn't really have a choice," you replied, placing a mug of steamy tea in front of him, "But I'd do it again."

He smiled at you - a tired, but genuine, smile.

"I need to take a long shower, if you don't mind," you sighed, holding your own warm mug, "I feel gross."

"Yeah, you kinda look it."

You went to whack him, "You're one to talk."

He started laughing, which quickly turned into a coughing fit.

"Whoa, whoa, be careful," you said through laughter, "Your lungs can't take much right now."

"I'm fine," he said through splutters, "I swear."

"You should shower after me," you said when he had calmed down, "In the nicest possible way, you need it."

He didn't argue.

***

Rain pounding against the window seemed almost symbolic of the state of the wizarding world as it was: pathetic fallacy, if you will. But, you must admit, your cowardly approach to the war had led you to lead quite a cosy lifestyle in your little cottage, tucked up by fires with hot cups of tea.

At times, you considered joining the resistance, and fighting for what was right. Realistically, though, you couldn't contribute much. Your duelling skills had always been subpar and despite your alleged Gryffindor identity, you lacked courage. Surely the Sorting Hat had made a mistake all those years ago, back when you were a nervous eleven-year-old stood in front of an audience full of older kids.

Never the matter - the past was the past, and as you didn't possess a timeturner, it would have to remain the way it was.

"Something doesn't feel right," Regulus' voice made you jump out of your skin.

Ignoring your surprise, he sat next to you on the sofa.

"You don't think?"

"No," he shook his head. It had been a couple months since he showed up at your door, and these days he came and went from your home. He was currently in search of his brother, Sirius, who he knew to be a part of the resistance. Regulus had explained to you how even though they had never gotten along, he would be more likely to listen to anything he had to say than other resistance members, who would probably arrest him on the spot.

You had crafted a port key for him - something that you were in fact good at - to access your house without revealing your location. This had led to him frequently jump scaring you by appearing in your living room out of nowhere, especially since he never showed up at the same time.

"Any news on Sirius?"

Regulus shook his head, leaning back into the plush pillows, "He's as good at hiding as I am."

"At least you have something in common."

He chuckled dryly, "I just can't escape the feeling that something is brewing tonight."

"Bad or good?" you furrowed your eyebrows, but secretly you knew what he meant. A new paranoia had been itching at you all day.

Regulus shrugged, "Both. Neither. Who knows?"

You followed his gaze to the thundering sky through the window.

"What day is it?" he asked.

You thought for a moment, "Halloween."

A thunderous boom echoed outside.

Regulus grimaced, "I'll source a newspaper tomorrow. Need to find out if I'm just being paranoid."

It was right then at that moment, as lightning flashed in the sky and lit up the whole room, that you knew he wasn't just being paranoid. A historical moment was taking place as you spoke: tragic, yet hopeful.

You felt a head drop on to your shoulder, and looked down in surprise to see that Regulus had drifted off quite peacefully next to you. Smiling to yourself, you adjusted your position so he could lie on you, unable to stop yourself from indulging in affection that filled your starving appetite for touch. He nuzzled his head into you, making a light and happy sound.

Sighing softly, you let your eyes drift shut.

***

He was gone when you woke up, as often was the case. While he slept at yours almost every night, he was prone to getting back late and leaving early, desperately searching for his elder brother.

Therefore, it was quite a surprise to see him burst through the dining room door at eleven o'clock in the morning, while you were frying eggs.

"Y/N," he said breathlessly as he approached the kitchen archway, a rolled newspaper crushed in one of his hands.

"What?"

"He's gone," he said, and if it wasn't for the smile on his face, you would have thought he was talking about his brother.

You barely had time to put the frying pan down before he continued.

"You-Know-Who," he said, throwing the paper on your kitchen counter, "They're saying he's dead - but I don't believe that - either way he's gone."

You moved to look at the newspaper of moving images and writing.

"He killed James and Lily Potter," he explained, "They were friends of my brother, but apparently he couldn't kill their son. Their one-year-old son."

Eyebrows furrowed, you ran your finger over the front page.

"I hope to Merlin that he never returns, wherever he is."

You chuckled.

"Salazar, I'm so happy I could kiss you," he said quite suddenly, making your head snap up.

Silence lingered between the two of you as you stared at each other with widened eyes, becoming hyper aware of your breathing. Then, his lips were on yours, and while it was a chaste kiss, it was passionate and intimate.

When you parted, Regulus rested his forehead against yours and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you flush against him.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he panted.

"Me too."

***

The second time you were gathered around a newspaper together was not too long later, after the arrest of Sirius Black for the murder of Peter Pettigrew and being a suspected death eater.

"At least you managed to find and talk to him before this."

Regulus sighed, "Yeah. I guess."

You said nothing.

"He was the only one who could vouch for me. I can never earn people's trust now."

"I think you'll just need to stay on the down-low."

Regulus sighed again, taking your hand into his, "Can I stay here for that long?"

You chuckled, pulling him into your embrace, "You can stay here forever."

He smiled, kissing your head.

***

APPROXIMATELY SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER: 1998.

***

"The verdict of the state versus Regulus Black is as follows..." the judge sat in the courtroom at the Ministry of Magic announced, making your breath hitch as you crossed your fingers behind your back.

You locked eyes with your long-time fiancé who was stood in the centre of the room within a mini-cell, and saw the way his Adam's apple moved in a gulp.

"Regulus Black is found guilty of serving You-Know-Who and the anti-muggle-born terrorist movement..."

You threw your hand over your mouth, tears pricking at your eyes.

"...but is hereby pardoned from punishment due to his immense aid in defeating You-Know-Who thereafter."

Never had such a large amount of air rushed out of your lungs, as your son hugged you from the side, likely not understanding the words the judge used, but understanding the look of elation on his father's face.

You didn't stop Sirius from detaching from your side and running down to the cell as they unlocked it: in fact, you ran after him, eager to hold your fiancé in your arms. You watched as Regulus picked up his son and hugged him tightly, before dropping him to take you into his arms.

Pecking his lips, you beamed up at him with joyful tears streaming down your cheeks.

"We can finally get married," he said, kissing you again.

You giggled, "Hopefully before my bump gets too big."

Regulus' eyes widened as he moved his hand to your abdomen, his smile somehow growing even wider than it was before.

"I love you," he said breathlessly.

——————————————

masterlist

written; 02/10/2023 —> 20/12/2023 published; 21/12/2023 edited; —/—/——

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thecreaturecodex · 2 months

Text

Demon Lord, Orcus

Image © TSR Inc, by Todd Lockwood.

[Sponsored by @tar-baphon. Orcus is one of the iconic D&D villains, and through the SRD and plausible deniability (he's a Roman god!), he's in Pathfinder as well. In Pathfinder, he is deliberately not a power player, and my flavor text takes that already metatextual decision and runs hog wild with it.

A note on the art: I feel like Orcus is emblematic of when D&D was seen as dangerous, and this piece absolutely feels like it should be the cover of a Black Sabbath album. It's no surprise that I was fascinated with the anti-D&D strain of the Satanic Panic when I was a kid. Also, although there has been some course correction in the 5e era, there's a trend with Orcus in a lot of art, including his official Pathfinder depiction, of making Orcus buff. Let Orcus be fat!]

Demon Lord, Orcus CR 28 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This humanoid is a corpulent giant with skin mottled like a decaying corpse. He has great black bat-wings growing from his shoulders, hooves for feet, and the head of a goat. He clutches a short staff, tipped with an oversized human skull.

Orcus, Prince of Undeath CE male demon lord of death, necromancy and wrath Domains Chaos, Death, Evil, Magic Subdomains Demon, Divine, Murder, Undead Favored Weapon heavy mace Unholy Symbol a goat’s head with curving horns Worshipers liches, necromancers, sapient undead Minions boneclaws, deathdrinkers, demons, other undead For information on his Obedience and boons for his worshipers, see Book of the Damned

Orcus is one of the most powerful demon lords in the Universe. But not on Golarion. On that world, his is one of a number of undead cults, and not nearly the most popular. Orcus has a clear hierarchy to what undead he considers truly worthy, with those created from contagion seen as inferior to accident, and those inferior to those who intentionally seek out undeath. His most dedicated worshippers on Golarion are liches, some of whom have learned the secret of crafting a phylactery by teasing apart the Prince of Undeath’s wisdom from his threats. The followers of many other undead-focused religions, particularly vampires and ghouls, see Orcus as pretentious and unworthy of dedication, although few are foolish enough to directly oppose him.

Orcus himself knows that his star has fallen. In his extensive research into planar lore, Orcus has learned that he was once the most feared being in another universe, who went on a killing spree that left several gods dead and an entire race of lawful outsiders duped into being his pawns. That Orcus cannot accomplish this level of power in this version of reality vexes and frustrates him, and he takes his rage out on his minions as much as he does his foes.

Orcus is a genius tactician, although his temper sometimes gets the better of him. He enjoys combat as a distraction from his cosmic-level sulk, and as a way of expressing his power over others. He typically opens combat with a time stop to summon allies and cast defensive spells on himself, and then unleashes a potent death effect as soon as the duration expires. Against creatures that can resist his negative energy and poison, he uses dispelling magic. On more than one occasion, Orcus has beaten a cocky archmage to a pulp by centering an antimagic field on himself and wading into combat.

Orcus in the Great Game Orcus’ response to the brewing theomachy between Mormo and Lamashtu is cautious optimism. He desires more power in the Abyss, and Lamashtu could open the door for him to seize it. Kabriri and Zura are at the top of Orcus’ hit list, but views a direct assault on them as currently too risky to be worth the effort. If one of them were to make a move against Lamashtu and be punished for it, or if they were struck down in the scramble for power following Lamashtu’s (theoretical) demotion or demise, Orcus would happily swoop in to finish them off. And if Mormo is capable of legitimately slaying a god, Orcus will be very keen to study her techniques.

Wand of Orcus (major artifact) The Wand of Orcus is the Prince of Undeath’s scepter of office, and it never leaves his side. Lesser versions have appeared in the Material Plane, often created by Orcus or one of his high-level clerics. The real Wand of Orcus is a Huge +5 anarchic, unholy heavy mace. In the hands of a demon, it grants a +4 profane bonus to Armor Class. The first time the Wand of Orcus strikes a living creature in a round, that creature is subject to a slay living spell (DC 30). Weight 24 lbs.; CL 25th

Demon Lord, Orcus CR 28 XP 4,915,200 CE Huge outsider (chaos, demon, evil, extraplanar) Init +11; Senses arcane sight, darkvision 120 ft., detect good, detect law, Perception +48, true seeing Aura frightful presence (120 ft., DC 36), undead obedience (120 ft., Will DC 36), unholy (DC 28)

Defense AC 47, touch 23, flat-footed 40(-2 size, +7 Dex, +4 deflection, +4 profane, +24 natural) hp 709(33d10+528); regeneration 30 (deific or mythic) Fort +31, Ref +29, Will +34 DR 20/cold iron, epic and good; Immune ability damage, ability drain, charm, compulsion, death effects, electricity, energy drain, petrification and poison; Resist acid 30, cold 30, fire 30; SR 39 Defensive Abilities Abyssal resurrection, freedom of movement, negative energy affinity

Offense Speed 40 ft., fly 60 ft. (average) Melee Wand of Orcus +51/+46/+41/+36 (3d6+20 plus 2d6 chaos and 2d6 evil/19-20), claw +44 (1d8+7), sting (2d4+7 plus poison), gore (2d6+7) or 2 claws +46 (1d8+15), sting +46 (2d4+15 plus poison), gore +46 (2d6+15) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks epic spellcasting, powerful charge (gore, 4d6+22) Spell-like Abilities CL 28th, concentration +38 (+42 casting defensively) Constant—arcane sight, detect good, detect law, freedom of movement, true seeing, unholy aura (DC 28, self only) At will—animate dead*, astral projection, blasphemy* (DC 27), circle of death* (DC 28), create undead, enervation*, greater dispel magic, greater teleport, plane shift* (DC 25), telekinesis* (DC 25), unholy blight* (DC 24) 3/day—control undead (DC 29), create greater undead, energy drain (DC 31), finger of death* (DC 29), quickened greater dispel magic, quickened harm*, summon demons or undead, symbol of death (DC 30) 1/day—power word kill*, time stop*, true resurrection, wail of the banshee (DC 31) * Orcus can use the mythic version of this spell-like ability in his domain Spells Prepared CL 20th, concentration +32 (+36 casting defensively) 9th—energy drain (DC 33), etherealness, mage’s disjunction* (D, DC 31), overwhelming presence (DC 31), soul bind (DC 33), wail of the banshee (DC 33) 8th —cloak of chaos (DC 30), fire storm* (DC 30), greater spell immunity, horrid wilting (DC 32), orb of the void* (DC 32), protection from spells (D), unholy aura (DC 30) 7th —control weather, destruction (DC 31), greater scrying (DC 29, x2), repulsion, spell turning (D), waves of exhaustion 6th —antilife shell, antimagic field (D), banshee blast (DC 30), blade barrier* (DC 28), geas/quest, harm* (DC 30), mass bull’s strength 5th —dispel good (DC 27), flame strike (DC 27), greater command (DC 27), mass ghostbane dirge (DC 27), righteous might, suffocation (D, DC 29), vampiric shadow shield 4th —contagion (DC 28), death ward (D), divine power (x2), rest eternal, sending (x2)*, tongues 3rd —bestow curse (x2, DC 27), prayer*, protection from energy, rage (D, DC 25), ray of exhaustion, vampiric touch*, water breathing 2nd —bear’s endurance (x2), death knell (D, DC 26), desecrate, owl’s wisdom (x2), resist energy, spiritual weapon* 1st —bane (DC 25), divine favor (x2), entropic shield, identify (D), ray of enfeeblement* (DC 25), sanctuary (DC 23), shield of faith* 0th—bleed (DC 24), detect magic, light, read magic *—Orcus may use the mythic version of this spell in his Abyssal domain

Statistics Str 40, Dex 25, Con 42, Int 30, Wis 35, Cha 31 Base Atk +33; CMB +50; CMD 71 Feats Combat Casting, Combat Reflexes, Craft Magic Arms and Armor, Craft Rod, Craft Wondrous Item, Flyby Attack, Greater Spell Focus (necromancy), Greater Spell Penetration, Improved Critical (heavy mace), Improved Initiative, Hover, Multiattack, Mythic Spell Lore (B), Power Attack, Quicken SLA (greater dispel magic, harm), Spell Focus (necromancy), Spell Penetration Skills Bluff +46, Craft (alchemy, weaponsmithing) +46, Fly +36, Intimidate +43, Knowledge (arcana, planes, religion) +46, Knowledge (dungeoneering, history) +43, Perception +48, Sense Motive +48, Spellcraft +46, Stealth +35, Survival +45, Use Magic Device +46 Languages Abyssal, Common, Draconic, Infernal, Necril, telepathy 300 ft. SQ demon lord traits, master of death

Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization unique Treasure triple standard (Wand of Orcus, other treasure)

Special Abilities Aura of Undead Obedience (Su) Any undead creature within 120 feet that attempts to make a hostile action against Orcus must succeed a DC 36 Will save or be unable to take that action, wasting it. The save DC is Charisma based. Epic Spellcasting (Ex) Orcus gains Mythic Spell Lore as a bonus feat. Once per day, he can use one of his spell-like abilities or spells as if it was a mythic spell without spending a use of mythic power. This allows him to use a mythic spell or spell-like ability outside of his Abyssal domain, but he cannot augment that spell or spell-like ability by spending additional uses of mythic power. Master of Death (Ex) Orcus applies his Spell Focus and Greater Spell Focus (necromancy) feats to his spell-like abilities. Death effects created by Orcus, including the Wand of Orcus in his hands, ignore immunity to death effects except for those granted by creature type, or from deific or mythic sources. Poison (Ex) Sting—injury; save Fort DC 42; duration 1/round for 4 rounds; damage 1d6 Str and 1d6 Con; cure 2 consecutive saves. A creature reduced to 0 Str by Orcus’ poison cannot breathe and begins to suffocate. The save DC is Constitution based. Spells Orcus can cast spells as a 20th level cleric, and can prepare necromancy spells from the sorcerer/wizard list as if they were cleric spells. He gets access to domain slots, and can fill them with spells from any of his domains or subdomains. He can also spontaneously cast inflict spells as an evil cleric can. Summon Demons and Undead (Sp) When Orcus summons demons, he can also summon undead creatures.

#orcus #demon #demon lord #pathfinder rpg #pathfinder 1e #D&D #satanic panic #todd lockwood #undead #outsider #necromancer #sponsored post #demigod

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buckys-little-belle · 2 years

Text

Mafia Au (Part One)

Origin Story

Stucky x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns Used)

Mafia Au Guidebook - Here (I recommend reading this first)

Warnings - Very vague mentions of mafia dealings, someone is told “you should stop talking if you hope to keep your life” and that’s as violent as it will get, reader is technically Brock Rumlows sibling, I totally recognize we don’t all looks like him, talk like him, or are anything like him, please know there is no dictations as of “biological, half, step, or adopted” sibling, and you can easily view yourself as any type of sibling! This part of the story takes place during dinner, people eat food, food is mentioned, reader has a tough home life with Brock, but it’s not at all described in detail, talks of loneliness and feeling left out. (3100 ish words)

Notes - I hate how this came out, but at this point I have rewritten it way to many times to stat again, so I just hope it’s good enough <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and with this blog, SFW.

The dining room, to Y/n, felt too big, too extravagant, and elegant to be located in someone’s house. The room was large, the walls white with elegant moulding, the floors covered in black hardwood. In the middle of the room stood a large rectangular table, the black wood seemingly matching the floors, the chairs covered in a contrasting white fabric and each spot at the table had a white plate, gold cutlery, and a beautiful blue and gold placemat.

The owners of the house, the Odinsons, made sure to fill the room, their home, with odes to their heritage, paintings, statues, pottery, and the placemats, all artifacts from, and things based on, Asgardian culture. The small details helped make the room feel welcoming, the bare bones were modern and cold, but the details showed that the room had character.

The house that Y/n was standing in was much different to their own. The large mansion an extreme opposite to their small apartment in the Bronx, Y/n’s apartment could easily fit into the singular dining room at least one time, maybe even two. A rundown studio apartment had no upper hand on a grand home like this one, sure each had historical aspects, but the Odinsons had marble tiles, stairways, and wallpaper from eras past, all having been taken care of and in great shape. Y/n had a bathtub from the early 1900s that was falling apart, and old carpet flooring from the 70s.

The mansion could be compared to her brothers, Brock had a large, more modern, mansion just a few blocks away, the landscape just as beautiful, and the art just as expensive. Y/n knew what luxury was, they just were forbidden to live in it.

Brock kept Y/n at an arm's length, close enough to be shown off at parties, helping him show a united family front, but far enough that no one would know his secret. Brock had prided himself on his ability to run a Mafia Family of just Caregivers, not a Little in sight. He wanted to assert dominance by following past tradition, keeping Littles off to the side, out of the business aspects of this job.

But he needed to keep his sibling close, family meant everything to the other Mafia families, he couldn’t cast his sibling away without valid reasoning, his only reason being they didn’t fit his end goal, which would never been seen as reasonable. So he kept their label a secret, keeping them silent at dinners, meetings, any outing with him, making sure they lived somewhere else so no one would catch them regressing.

So Y/n was stuck in their small apartment, left alone to long for the large dining rooms, bathrooms that didn’t have leaky windows, and a ‘family’ that accepted them for who they really were. For the first few years, when Brock was still the right hand man of the Hydra Family over in California, Y/n thought that this was how all little’s were treated, only to be faced with the harsh reality that life could be so much better.

Here in New York littles were allowed in the Families ranks, they were allowed to be a part of big decisions, they were truly accepted by those around them. This group made sure littles got different meals, chicken nuggets, pasta, and more, if they wanted it, they still got to sit at the Caregiver table when little, they could thrive.

Part of Y/n wished to go back, go back to the days where they never knew that life could be better, the days where they were content with being paraded around others silently, being thrown away when they weren’t needed. Go back to the days that they didn’t long for more, but for now they would be stuck here, sat in the beautiful dining room, filled with sorrow, pushing around the weird food on their plate, longing for some pasta.

“Eat your food.” Brock seethed from beside them, a smile on his face as vile words were spat out quietly.

“What ‘s it?” Y/n whispered, the small circles a confusing dish.

“It’s Escargot.” Brock answered, taking a large sip of his drink, most likely an alcoholic one, one that would make him more irritable throughout the night. “Just eat it.”

Y/n swallowed hard, their eyes fixed on the plate, their stomach sinking at the idea of eating baby snail eggs. “I don’t think ‘m hungry.” They whispered to their brother, a pleading look on their face, silently begging for some mercy.

Brock sighed, standing up and fixing his jacket as he harshly whispered. “I’m going to the bathroom, if you don’t eat at least half of your food you’ll loose Tv privileges for a month.” His threat wasn’t empty, it was one he had acted on many times, one he dished out unfairly.

Y/n looked at the plate debating if it was worth it, the new Octonauts episodes were due to come out next week, something they didn’t want to lose, but at the same time they didn’t know if they would be able to swallow the food regardless of the impending punishment’s intensity.

Before they could scoop up a spoonful, someone interpreted them. “Y/n?” A man’s voice asked, Y/n looking up, their gaze now focused on a tall brunette, his hair pulled back in a low bun, a soft smile gracing his lips. “I’m Bucky.” He said, sitting where Brock was just seated. “Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Y/n’s eyes were wide, confused as to why someone was paying attention to them. “Um.” Y/n’s eyes drifting to the entryway of the dining room, when there was no evidence that Brock was entering they answered shyly. “Sure.”

Bucky pulled out a small pad of paper from his suit jacket, words scribbled across the paper. “Do you live with your brother?” He asked, his eyes flipping from the paper to Y/n.

“No.” They answered quickly, a quick rush of fear flooding through them when they realized they answered wrong. “I, I mean yes, we live in a mansion.” Their answer was slightly choppy, too focused on making sure the words were clear and not mumbled to be focused on the flow of the sentence.

“Okay.” Bucky doubted, shaking his head slightly. “Can you tell me what colour the mansion is?” He prodded.

“Oh.” Y/n paused, trying to remember what colour Brock had talked about painting the house, but was that inside? Their mind running in circles as they tried to remember as best they could. “ ‘s it black?” They questioned, hoping they got the right answer, as if they were being tested and graded.

“You were close.” Bucky chuckled, sighing as he read the next question. “If you could have anything, anything in the world, what would you want?”

‘A canopy bed.’ They said in their head, the bed being something they’ve wanted for years. “World peace.”

“You don’t have to lie.” Bucky pressed, his eyes genuine.

“I can’t say.” Y/n said, a frown on their face, tears threatening to spill.

“Can’t? Or not allowed to?” Bucky asked.

Y/n just sat still, their hand reaching for their once discarded spoon, pushing around the food on their plate. Bucky sighed, placing the pad of paper back into his pocket and standing up, Y/n’s eyes filling with tears, disappointed in themself for making someone mad. What they didn’t know was it had nothing to do with them.

- - - - - -

Brock walked into the room, Y/n quickly wiping the tears from their face, trying to compose themself as best as they could. As Brock approached his seat they waited for his snarky comment on how much food was still on their plate, the joy he would have taking the Tv out of their apartment when they got there. “Brock Rumlow.” A voice laughed, one from the end, the head, of the table, one Y/n hadn’t heard before.

“Is something wrong Mr.Odin?” Brock asked, his voice suddenly cherie, his hands clasping together behind his back.

“We’re about to find out.” A snarky voice called out, the voice belonging to one of the Odinsons Y/n knew to be Loki, the man looking terrifying and yet terrified himself.

“Brock, what colour is your house?” Odin called out, a slight mocking tone on the edge of his voice.

“It’s light grey Sir.” Brock answered quickly.

“Yes it is.” Odin faked contemplation. “So why does your sibling think it’s black?” He questioned.

Brock chuckled lowly. “Y/n struggles with colours Sir. Can’t really trust anything they say.” He laughed, looking around the room, hoping for similar reactions, only to be met with unsatisfied stares.

“I find that hard to believe.” Odin boomed, standing up from his seat, causing the room to grow stiff. “Though, I would understand why they don’t know, seeing as you seem to store them across town.” He remarked.

“Y/n lives with me Sir, I don’t know what intel you're going off, but it’s wrong. They have a bedroom right next to mine.” Brock argued back, his attitude growing restless.

“So what is the ‘$1400’ payment to a ‘Mr.Jones each month?” The man questioned. “He owns a rundown apartment building does he not?” Odin added.

“Well, that’s.” Brock began. “Some of my men stay there.” He confidently said.

“Hm, see I might have been able to believe that if I didn’t have pictures of Y/n leaving and entering the building almost everyday.”

Y/n shrunk into their seat, not ready for the wrath that Brock would undoubtedly lash onto them, one of his rules being ‘Don’t leave the apartment under any circumstances.’. “Oh you little -“ Brock shouted, his furious gaze cast on Y/n.

“I suggest you don’t finish that sentence if you want to leave here with your life.” Odin said, two large bodyguards immediately grabbing Brock by each arm, dragging him to stand at the other head of the table, now on display for everyone to clearly see. “Y/n stops at a toy store everyday, standing outside and looking at what they have on display. I don’t think that can be easily explained, hm?” Odin added, Brock just looking back with wildly angry eyes. “And then they go to a Cafe, take out a stuffed animal, and drink a cup of hot chocolate.” Odin continued, Brock growing more restless the more the leader talked. “We have come to the conclusion to have you removed, you left a little to their own devices, lied about it, many, many times, and you treated them as if they mean nothing to you, your own sibling.” Odin scoffed, pure disappointment dripping from his words.

“I treat them the way they should be treated.” Brock seethed. “They are mine, I can do with them as I please.”

“Actually you can’t.” Loki interjected, Brock immediately taken aback in confusion. “You signed a contract, I have it here actually.” He beamed, standing up from his seat and walking to the other end of the table. “I, Brock Rumlow.” Loki mimicked the man's voice. “Declare that I will treat any little in my care with respect and human decency, I will provide them with a safe and stimulating environment, I will make sure their needs are taken care of, blah blah blah, it just goes on to list more things you didn’t do.” He noted.

“Brock your territory will be given to the Romanov Family, Y/n will be placed in the care of someone who will provide it, and you will be banned from New York.” Odin listed. “Oh and if you are to step into New York again, you will be dealt with accordingly.” He added, finally sitting back down in his seat.

“That’s unfair! You can’t do this to me! Y/n is mine! I will come back, I will!” Brock’s shouts could be heard as he was pulled from the room and dragged through the hallways, chuckles and murmured conversations heard through the dining room.

“Y/n?” Odin asked, his voice much softer now, the room coming to a silence when they heard him speak. “We have paired you with Steve and Bucky, the leaders of the Barnes-Rogers family.” He began. “They have agreed to take you in, and are eager to get to know you. Steve is actually the reason you are finally free from your brother's grasp, he started the investigation.” Odin proudly beamed, his favourite family once again proving why they are his favourite.

Y/n just sat still, unsure of what to do, sad that they may never see their apartment again, a few stuffed animals that they would love to have, but excited for what this newfound freedom may lead to. They nodded their head in agreement. “With that done, let’s get back to dinner!” Odin cheered, the room laughing and smiling in response.

Y/n’s eyes searched the room, looking for the only familiar person, Bucky, their gaze finally landing on the Barnes-Rogers Family, a few of them sitting at the end of the table, where Brock once stood on display. Two boys were already looking at Y/n, waving their hands in a ‘come over’ gesture, Y/n slowly standing up and walking over.

“Hi! I’m Peter, and this is my best friend Ned, he’s our guy in the chair. I’m ‘the spider’, you need information? I can get it, you need someone sneaky! That’s me!” Peter ranted, pointing to the boy next to him, as well as making dramatic gestures with his hands.

“I see you’ve met Peter.” An unfamiliar voice laughed, Y/n turning to see a man with blonde hair smiling, his height similar to Bucky’s and his demeanour just a serious. “Here.” He said, pulling out a chair, that sat across from Peter, for Y/n to sit in. “I’m Steve, Bucky is just getting you some food he’ll be right back.” Steve smiled, answering Y/n’s unsaid questions, them nodding their head in approval.

“So what do you do? Are you sneaky too? Or really smart? What can you bring to the team? We could be sidekicks!” Peter started.

“The Spider, The Egg and The Guy in the Chair.” Ned added, him and Peter breaking out in laughter right after. “The name could use some work.” The two of them entering their own conversation.

“Hi Dove.” Bucky called out, sitting in between Steve and Y/n, placing a plate down in front of them. “I got you a bit of everything, this way we can know which one you want for next time.” He smiled, looking to Steve with excitement. Y/n just nodding at his words.

“Manners Dove.” Steve said, some food on his fork as he looked to Y/n.

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears, nodding their head, trying to get any words out of their mouth, but failing to do so. “What’s wrong?” Bucky immediately asked, his hand settling on Y/n’s back to comfort them as best he could.

“I.” They stuttered. “I din’, I din’ know I could talk.” They cried, confused as to why they were mad that Y/n wasn’t talking, something they were told not to do, something they weren’t allowed to do. “I, please don’ be mad, ‘m so sorry.” Tears continued to flow down their cheeks.

Steve stood up angrily, throwing his napkin to the table and storming out of the room. “Steve.” Bucky called after him, his hand now rubbing circles into Y/n’s back.

“ ‘m sorry, ‘m thankful, ‘m so thankful, I love the pasta I do.” Y/n cried, trying to show how grateful they were, and how sorry they were for not using their manners.

“We know Dove.” Bucky soothed. “He isn’t mad at you, he’s just mad because it took so long for Odin to do anything about your situation.” He explained. “He just needs some fresh air.”

Y/n nodded, their hands wiping away their tears as best they could, a few new ones falling as they turned back towards their plate, picking up their fork to begin eating. “Boy’s, I think we are going to go, Ned, can you make sure Odin gets the right files please?” Bucky asked, both boys nodding in agreement immediately. “Peter, could you go grab me a container from the kitchen for this food?” Peter didn’t even answer, just springing into action.

“Did you bring anything with you that we should grab?” Bucky asked Y/n, being met with a head shake ‘no’.

Bucky put Y/n’s food into the container, standing up and saying a few goodbyes before walking back to Y/n. “Ready to go Little Dove?” He asked, his hand held out as an invitation.

“Mhm.” Y/n murmured, standing up and waving to the boys, holding onto Bucky’s hand as he led them out of the room and down and out the front entrance.

“Steve?” Bucky called, not able to see where he was standing.

“Yah.” He called back, walking out from behind a wall. “Sorry I just needed-”

“I know.” Bucky sighed, Y/n still holding his hand as the three of them waited for their car.

“ ‘m sorry Steve.” Y/n blurted out. “I shoulda said thank you.” They mumbled, squeezing Bucky’s hand slightly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Dove.” Steve responded. “I’m sorry for walking out like that.” He said, crouching down to his knees and grabbing Y/n’s other hand.

“ ‘s okay.” Y/n weakly smiled, trying to be as genuine as possible, their smile not meeting their eyes, Steve standing up, still holding onto Y/n’s hand.

The three of them stood together, waiting for the car, ready to go ‘home’, wherever that was. “A canopy bed.” Y/n said.

“A what?” Steve chuckled.

“Bucky as’d me what I would wish for, I wish for a canopy bed.” Y/n said matter of factly. Bucky and Steve both began laughing. “ ‘s that a bad answer?” Y/n asked, only to be met with soft coos.

“No, no Dove, it’s a perfect wish.” Bucky answered. “It’s just funny because we bought you a canopy bed already.” He laughed.

“It even has curtains.” Steve added enthusiastically.

“Oh.” Y/n breathed, even more excited to go ‘home’. Though they would miss their stuffed animals, a canopy bed seemed like a fair trade, they tried to reason. “ ‘m gonna miss my stuffies.” They blurted, the thought too much to keep in.

“Our friend Sam stopped by your apartment during dinner, all your stuffies are sitting on your bed, safe and sound, as we speak Dove.” Steve stated, squeezing Y/n’s hand slightly to reassure them.

Maybe everything was going to be okay, only time could tell.

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bettyshoweduptotheparty · 7 months

Text

Midnights is defined by duality: The story of an unreliable narrator and performance art (Part 1)

One year on, I think I've finally figured out what midnights is about. And it might surprise you.

The midnights album has just celebrated its first anniversary. And having listened to these songs for the last 12 months, staying up late to watch live streams of the Eras tour, and at times being unable to escape news about Taylor on every medium, I finally have an idea that makes all of this make sense: This is Taylor's duality era. And she wants us to notice. Join me on the ride if you want to know more :)

I made a post a few weeks ago about how the Midnights aesthetic has the ‘two Taylors’ duology: Private vs public, which is the lead theme that carries over into the music and most recently also into her public image. Midnights had a mismatched visual to it from the very beginning with the depressed 70s look (announcement photo and vinyl covers) and the glamourous midnight blue (cover image and public appearances).

The two Taylors in the Anti Hero mv really drove home the message for me that this album is about two versions of the same story, and Taylor is the writer and narrator. And while I'm sure that these two versions have existed for a lot longer than the midnights era, they have not previously been so prominently next to each other. In fact, the very point of having the public narrative, is to keep Taylor's private life out of the public eye. She has never shied away from providing the 'stories' that her fans want to see in order to relate to her music, and as the girl that made her fame with songs about heartbreak and fairytale princes, that usually meant being seen with a man that these songs could be attributed to. And she made sure people would make the connection, be it with scarves that change ownership, or foxes on shirts:

(Btw you can't deny how effective this was, with just a few photos she managed to hang an entire album on each of these men!)

So, acting is not new to Taylor. In addition to appearing in a few feature films and TV shows since 2010, she's done this public performance for well over a decade now. And she has been vocal in recent years about her intention to go into filmmaking, so we know she's able to tell stories in multiple ways. She's a storyteller first and foremost, maybe the best of our generation. But is she a reliable narrator?

What does 'unreliable narrator' mean?

A story told by a so-called unreliable narrator, is usually a first person narration, where it turns out that the person telling the story was either lying or in some other way unable to give a truthful account of events (e.g. hallucinating or dreaming). That usually means that the audience is left with having to interpret for themselves what really happened and what was real or not real. Famous examples of this kind of storytelling are the 2010 psycho thriller 'Black Swan' with Natalie Portman, or the YA novel 'We were liars' by E. Lockhart. If you like stories that leave you guessing, check those out ;)

So, why is Taylor an unreliable narrator? For those fans that have paid attention to her lyrics, it has long been evident that her songwriting and public narrative don't match up. The most obvious theme being her 17-year run of writing songs about secret relationships and hiding, while she was parading men around in public to be photographed with. But, as we know, most people ignore it because it's just easier than digging deeper into lyrics. But now with Midnights, I'm starting to think she wants people to notice the duality and start to question her narrative. The sheer number of songs on that album that have strong double meaning or draw attention to lying or distorting the truth is astonishing: Right out the gate with track 1 we have Lavender Haze, a pretty loud song about bearding using the very well established queer reference of lavender. (And maybe she leaned out of the window a little too far with that title, because we all know the gaylor uproar was so loud when the title was revealed, that she had to backpedal and hetsplain it.) Immediately followed by Maroon, the song that has probably singlehandedly turned the most swifties into gaylors since Bettygate of 2020... Then on to Anti Hero, the ultimate duality song that also makes mention of lying and scheming, same as Mastermind. High Infidelity and You're Losing Me join the ranks of songs that look like they are about romantic relationships on the surface, but could also be interpreted to be about Taylor's relationship with fame and her fans. High Infidelity is a play on words of the term High Fidelity or HIFI, which is a 90s sound technology that refers to truthful reproduction of sound. High INfidelity is therefore a genius way of referring to both cheating and unfaithful reproduction of sound, almost like someone who makes music that isn't quite truthful... We also know from Aaron Dessner that this song was written following the 2021 Grammys and in the light of the whole William Bowery grammygate situation... I think there is point to be made about this song drawing attention to lying in a big way.

The timing of the release of You're losing me right around the time that her breakup with Joe made the news also feeds the narrative of a breakup song. But in this very 'breakup song' she says You say, "I don't understand," and I say, "I know you don't" and talks about sending signals that fall on deaf ears. Doesn't that sound an awful lot like 'I gave so many signs'? What does she know the addressee won't understand? Is it that when she finally reveals all her lies 90% of her fans will be shocked to their very core? On the exclusive CD version that has this track on it, it also immediately follows Dear Reader which on the track list looks like this:

Dear Reader You're Losing me (Does that look like a message? I think it does...)

By the time we make it to Dear Reader, she's basically told us 'I'm a liar who hides behind fake lavender relationships who charms everyone like a sleezy congressman, I'm the narcissistic Anti Hero you can't trust who schemes like a criminal and plans out everything like the puppet master I am, just so you like me and therefore you shouldn't look up to me, but I know you still will.' If that doesn't scream 'I want you to question everything I say or do' I don't know what does. Which brings us to performance art.

What is performance art?

Performance art is any kind of visual art that involves a dramatic performance aspect. To explain how this relates to Taylor and who she may have taken inspiration from, I refer to the brilliant Kristina Parro on TikTok:

Ok, groundwork is laid, but this is getting too long. Part 2 will be relating this to upcoming music releases and media coverage but that will have to wait til tomorrow.

As always, thanks for humouring me guys!

#taylor swift #gaylor #eras tour #midnights album #one year of midnights #performance art #unreliable narrator

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precious-little-scoundrel · 5 months

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From Sarge’s kids I think I’m (as of now) excited to learn more about Daisy. She’s got a lot of Elvis in her and she witnesses Elaine go to hell and back to help him beat his addiction and although she’s independent I hope there’s gonna be someone who will be able to do the same for her or stand by her. Not to mention she’s got a twin who they come off as polar opposites (what with Rosalee being a huge Daddy’s girl) and her comments towards her older sister Ella’s marriage - I get the feeling there’s a lot to unpack there.

I think sometimes Elvis felt like he was too much to love and I see a lot of his personal insecurities in Daisy, she even is a popstar like him and that’s a lot of people loving you with maybe them feeling like they aren’t really known for who they are deep down.

I am so happy to hear this, I’ve got a little started on each kid’s own fic (I want one for each like I had for Jesse, just to establish them and then let loose with the intermingling) and I really think hers is compelling. It’s been truly a blast to get to know her and I’ve gotta be honest she may be the most Lisa-like of any Sarge kid in many ways, partly because she’s so Elvis incarnate. It took awhile but me and my scheming buddies have cooked up a good partner for her and she will always have her family as backup and even her godfather Marlon. I think she will, as you said, be publicly adored but can be rather offputting one on one, even though she desperately needs connection. I think eventually, and not after too long, all these relationships get far better, and Daisy finds her little nook in the family easily. She is the one to go to for the zero bullshit takes or help hiding a body. Loyal and fierce that one.

And here, since you made my day asking about her, have a little random snippet I’ve written about her first big debut recording which came from her rehab scribbles and, unfortunately for the family members her lyrics feature -becomes a sensation.

Era: 1978-9ish??

Warnings: moderate…mentions of past divorce, infidelity, a daughter sorta writing a hit tell all? remincence of a one off threesome and Elvis having straight man panic for it (I’m afraid this couple is polyamorous central I’m the 60’s but nothing explicit) big ole family chat with the grown kids, chaos as can be expected…

What about Wendy?

“Daisy Mae!” Elvis bellows her full name because the crime warrants it, and from behind him, her voice answers, not in person from her place sprawled on the couch but behind him, coming through the stereo in a clear cadence that his creative side must acknowledge is skilled and evocative. What Elvis doesn't find so praiseworthy is his Dear Daughter hanging the family laundry out for all to see with lyrics like:

—“So I'll lock the window and turn on the AC, You'll throw your rocks, and you'll scream that you hate me, But it gets old being forever 20, And what about my wings? What about Wendy?”—

out on a clothesline for all the world to commentate on his failings and his marriage.

The music video coming out tomorrow on MTV, teased as featuring a fresh faced Daisy in a montage of her mother’s most iconic looks -including that secretive wedding gown so few of the nation ever saw, rather hammers home the not so subtle point. As far as Elvis is concerned this is about as disloyal as it gets.

And he is having none of it.

“It’s art, Daddy.” Daisy murmurs, utterly unphased by the hurricane of wrath she can match once she gets that cup of coffee Rosalee is making her.

“Is this how you see us?” Elvis demands and Jesse winces to the side, things had been going so smoothly after Danny was born but lord, the Presley’s just can’t manage to be calm for long, Daisy had to record that stupid black book she scribbled in during rehab and, my does it have some choice takes on the events of the last decade. “This how you see your childhood?” Elvus goes on, “Where we loved ya like no one’s ever loved any kids and gave ya everythin’ and-“

“-and slammed a buncha doors in between.“ Daisy shrugs, not meaning to be cruel, but it’s the truth and she’s never had her sibling’s affinity for the affection that the rest of the kids take as blood money for the insanity they got put through. Daisy doesn't hold a grudge against anyone for her childhood, in fact, she’s thankful for the writing material. But she’s not gonna be sorry for writing shit as it was.

Which was mama playing a haggard Wendy while Daddy flitted in and out of the window at whim like Peter Pan.

“Girl,” her daddy begs her to understand as he takes his seat next to her on the sofa, big ringed hand familiar and pleading on her bony knee, as if somehow this appeal of his will lock the song back into her diary and out of the radio -or maybe he doesn’t care about his reputation anymore, he’s gotten lax about that after the divorce, maybe he really is seeking after his child’s good opinion this time when he continues, “I’m all for art’n’shit but have I not taught ya nothin’ bout-“

“Daddy, ya didn’t even write your own songs.” Daisy gently tries to get him to see the difference in their art but Jesse gasps out in horror:

“Daisy!!” like she just shot their father instead of stating the truth. Which is kinda her problem with her family, they can’t take straight facts.

“Alright, alright then,” Elvis simmers a bit but his tone is restrained as he presses his point, “so ya write from the heart and ya wrote about life, I get ya. So then why’d you call mama Wendy when, w-w-when she’s -she’s my Tinkerbell?”

“You’d rather I used your pet little name in public?” Daisy scoffs at his muddled logic and feels bad for the first time after -soon as his brow furrows in genuine hurt. Daddy loves mama, he loves her again like a new man and Daisy doesn’t get how that works but it’s the truth and she’s got no fight to pick with the truth. It makes her admit with a shrug, “I used it ‘cause Marlon always says she’s Wendy.”

You could hear a pin drop the way everyone’s chatter in the living room stops, even the coffee maker stops spluttering in the distance and it’s highly likely Jesse isn’t even breathing as everyone’s head’s swivel, Daddy’s slower but more intent than any, to look at Elaine where’s she sits in the white arm chair, blanket cast over her where Danny fell asleep while nursing. She’s as white as the rocker she sits in.

“Oh does he now?” Elvis rumbles and Daisy feels the unintentional bite of his nails on her knee.

“Well yeah, he does and -always has.” Daisy insists as if the past and present existence of Brando’s opinions on Elvis’ wife makes shit any better, Daisy knows it the second she lets it out that it’s not exactly balm on the scab.

Her voice doesn't make anyone look away from mama and her perfect, frozen face, carefully neutral and soothingly disinterested in the topic.

“That man has only ever called me, Elaine.” mama laughs an airy, dismissive little thing and the bite of Daddy’s rings on Daisy’s knee loosens their grip. “And if he thinks i'm a Wendy -he should say it to my face.” she jokes and Jesse predictably lets out a pained laugh of solidarity.

“-A-a-and w-who the hell did ya get to sew all those recreated outfits, girl?” Daddy is suddenly back on the original topic with a burst of renewed incredulity at her gall and Daisy knows she can use this to her advantage, get him arguing about fashion, tailors and supporting local folks instead of berating her for her lyrics and-

-Ella watches as Elaine’s stiff face smoothes into relief and she lays her head back against the rocker’s cushion and closes her eyes against the hubbub that’s no longer pertinent to her. Not for the first time Ella wonders if mama is as burdened as she is with thoughts and feelings married women shouldn’t have, they really shouldn’t. Marriage should cure a woman of them but Ella had them all alone on the ranch with her husband gone and Mama had Marlon and his lingering looks and her frozen face whenever his name gets mentioned and mama who is staring up at the ceiling like she’s no longer in the room with them at all.

“Peter Pan, Peter Pan, little lost boy actin’ like a big man,” only Marlon could have made that rhyme sound like anything but a goad, only Marlon really saw what Elaine saw when Elvis was sated, pliable, sweet as a newborn and pretty a sin. “Those producers who’ve got him playin’ tough n’ shit don’t know his appeal, they just don’t get it. Goddamn Peter Pan.”

And he had run his fingers over Elvis’ face, catching his drooping eyelids and pulling them down and over his nose to those cherub lips. And Elvis’ eyes hadn’t opened again till next morning when he woke in angry panic.

Elaine stares at the ceiling and feels Danny shift against her breast, snuggling closer, and she wonders if Elvis ever recalls that night like she does. Ever replays it a million times.

Wendy, Wendy Wendy.

Marlon thinks she’s Wendy, Marlon’s told her own daughter that. But never her. No. He’d just raked his hand through the wrecked coiff of Elvis’ gelled hair and admiringly called him Peter Pan. And Elvis, being Elvis in the state of freshly loved and freshly praised, never balked at it before drifting to sleep in their muggy tent.

Wendy, Wendy, Wendy, he never called Elaine that to her face.

Elaine catches Daisy’s eye next time she looks away from the ceiling, an odd moment of recognition. Funny how each child knows a part of her, but it’s the inner workings of Daisy’s curious, generous, honest self -a heart so very like Elvis’ own- that can look back at Elaine and smile at her, while knowing her fully, faults and all. It’s not so bad having grown daughters as a friend, Elaine decides as she watches Elvis flail backwards against the couch to laugh at his daughter's good natured dig at his unmodified wardrobe.

It’s good not to be his only Wendy keeping him young anymore.

Song based on: Wendy by Maisie Peters

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princesscolumbia · 7 months

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So about the musical episode...

This is specifically geared to "Subspace Rhapsody," which if you haven't watched it shame on you go now and watch go go go go!!!

So by the end of the ep everything goes back to normal and it turns out the real musical ensemble was the friends we made along the way etc., but what if it didn't?!

Yes, there'd be immediate consequences; highly classified secrets getting out, relationships starting and ending, etc.

But humans adapt, and since the other species in the galaxy are the same kind of "fuck you, I'm surviving!" results of evolution, they'd all adapt, too.

First off, the big one: It'd be like that post where somehow Anakin and Obi-wan can hear the musical score an realize Palpatine is a sith lord; the bad guys would be outed, like, the SECOND their musical number started up. Khan would have been identified before the Enterprise even finished scanning the Botony Bay, the Prime Directive would have to get a big 'ol asterisk pointing to a clause describing the specific mathematical properties of different types of music the crew can expect to hear when approaching a potential first contact. Science experiments would be (metaphorically) killed on the spot because the "mad scientist" theme would start playing.

But a century on? Well, everyone would have adapted...

The Vulcans would have come up with an entirely new discipline; Rhythmic Logic. Rather akin to rap, it'd be syncopated speaking with periodic inflections to denote emphasis on certain points, and the passive aggressive sass levels would be off the CHARTS. Counterintuitive to most Vulcan training for centuries, to properly learn and master this new discipline, the Vulcans would need to induce moments of high emotion to properly initiate the musical triggering conditions, but once started their logic and ability to freestyle would then be put to use to focus and direct the song.

Andorians would be less about the singing and more about choreography. Their troop movements would be works of martial art and their ability to synchronize with each other during operations (any operation, whether medical, business, black-ops, etc.) would be legendary throughout the galaxy. When xenoanthropologists start proposing theories, the truth is swiftly buried for the sanity of the galaxy; since the "musical universe" is based on human musicals, Andorian affinity for good choreography is rooted in figure skating.

Tellarites would unabashedly embrace Weird Al as a sort-of prophet/god once they figured out that parody is the sincerest form of insult. Whatever musical number you're performing, the Tellarites will ride on top of it and twist it in crass ways until the song they sing drowns out whatever they're parodying and is considered the superior work. This, amusingly, results in relations between Tellar and Earth to improve as "bards" of both races across every strata of society compete to see who can make the better parody.

Romulans would lean into the villain pieces, like, unironically. Go to a diplomatic party on Romulus and you're beset by a massive orchestral work of interweaving harmonies as a melody of every big number and quiet ballad are melded together in a symphony of intrigue, emotion, politics, and betrayal. Yes, there's good Romulans, but because their music is JUST as "villainous" as the heroes, it's nearly impossible to tell them apart. Somewhat ironically, it's That One Romulan who only sings spritely songs in a major key that turns out to be the baddest, most lethal Romulan of all.

Klingon society would fracture into new houses based on musical style. The "Old Guard" would be the Klingons who break out into Klingon Opera on the regular. K-pop would be known for being vicious berserkers. Shakespere may be beloved by the Klingons, but the Soviet Anthems would become THE way to unify the Klingons during the "cold war" era.

Once the effect stretched into the Delta Quadrant (nobody in the quadrant knows why they've suddenly started breaking into song, and it isn't until well after Voyager returns home that someone in a university history department is given access to the full history of the Borg's interaction with Starfleet that they realize that it was Q launching the Enterprise D into the Delta Quadrant that created the contact), the Hirogen would come to be known for their absolutely epic power-metal ballads. Their "hunting axes" would become some variety of electric guitar almost overnight.

Because Voyager's crew had grown up with the "random" musicals, Voyager has a leg up on the entire Delta Quadrant, further solidifying Janeway as an unmitigated badass when she uses her absolute mastery of the musical forms to kick ass in every genre.

Cultures that had been introduced to warp flight badly (turns out the Federation had the right idea with the Prime Directive, just not for reasons that anyone could have ever predicted) can always be identified as being...cut rate. It'd be like going from a Broadway Musical production of Hamilton to encountering that one "Christian" production where they butchered the lyrics and the "b-list" actors were the best they could get.

Cardasians would be all about the martial themes. Even their counterculture movements would be all about the percussion-heavy 4:4 musical numbers.

Bajorans would be split between Broadway Musical-style numbers that seem to take inspiration from plays like "West Side Story" and Epic Battle Hymns sung by every Bajoran involved in a given conflict that reach deep into your soul and make you feel simultaneously victorious and deeply sad for reasons you can't quite identify.

The Borg would be EDM for some reason. Nobody is quite sure why.

Even the species that sent the whale probe in the 23rd century wouldn't be spared. Dubstep...dubstep everywhere!

Section 31 and the Tal Shiar would be in a black-ops weapons race to see who can weaponize the musicals the most effectively.

Time travelers would have a blast. Turns out the big reason for the Temporal Cold War was to stop a massive Temporal Prime Directive violating wave of time tourists who just want to go back to a time before musicals were a fact of life. Mariner and Boimler wouldn't even realize they hadn't broken out into song once until they returned to the 24th century.

Humans would be driving everyone nuts. A species that had adapted to using Rent-style musical numbers to form social collectives that were so "in-crowd" that nobody else could even think of joining would suddenly find this one asshole human that picked up on it and was fitting in perfectly. Klingon slasher ballads would be met with children's cartoon bubbly pop music. Andorians would be simultaneously overjoyed at having companions that could work so perfectly with them and appalled that another species dared to get on the ice with them.

The only beings immune to the whole thing would be the Q. The reason Q was the one interacting with Picard? He's the only Q that can stand the whole universe turning into a musical! He's "the band nerd" in Q high school, the one that'll break into a situationally appropriate musical hit number from that one Broadway play when nobody wants to hear you singing Q! Q doesn't have to sing like the lesser species, but by golly he WANTS to and he's GONNA!

#star trek #star trek voyager #star trek prodigy #star trek lower decks #star trek picard #star trek tos #star trek tng #star trek ds9 #star trek strange new worlds #subspace rhapsody

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punkeropercyjackson · 25 days

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I want to know everything about Nia!

AND MONTHS LATER,YOU ARE FINALLY GETTING HIM!!!!

Nia The Dragon Nomad,born just Nia,just Nia and is 16 at the start of the series

His version of the franchise is called 'Avatar:The Airbender Legacies' and it's 4 books instead of 3 and the 4th one is 'Book 4:Air'

He's half Air Nomad,half Fire Nation but specifically the black etchnic subgroup in the comics you helped me discover which is what led to his creation!!As pointed out by jewish Atla fans,it would be more realistic for the AN to have a small surviving population that went into hiding after the Air Nomad Genocide and Nia's mom is a descendant of them!His parents names are Yung and Dahla and Nia's mixed heritage is symbolism for the coming era of peace

Nia was born in the Fire Nation as lower class,Dahla a homemaker and Yung a chef at the Fire Nation Palace.Dahla has Air Nomad features but never practiced her culture for safety so nobody could point it out without sounding like a maniac and Yung's job led to Nia meeting Zuko when they were 4 years old and becoming best friends and keeping it a secret since Zuko and Azula weren't allowed to befriend 'peasents'(hence why Ozai encouraged Azula to only interact with Mai and Ty Lee).Nia was unaware of not being fully FN but his dad was one of the first prisoner's of The Boiling Rock for a crime he didn't commit and this led to to his mom using Airbending publicly to try to stop him from being taken away so the next day,their house was burned down with her in it by Fire Nation supremacists and Nia being only 13 at the time had no choice but to run away and become a Nomad,leaving Zuko a tear stainned letter in pink ink explaining what happened and telling him how much he loved him as a person and for being his best friend(Nia wouldn't find out Dahla had been an Air Nomad for a long time,not being present when she bended and Zuko got a lot meaner after he left since he was his only real loved one due to Ursa's dissaperance and desperately looked for clues on him,seeing him everywhere even though he was gone)

Nia learned firebending on his own and made a name for himself on his travels by helping people with kindness and resources and fighting for them,committing various anti-imperialist crimes.During this time,he realized he's trans and is a woman and a man at the same time and his gender presentation is very feminine but he uses only masculine ponouns!!He's also autistic,adhd,mdd and anxious and his hair is 4b textured

Personality wise,Nia is very much an Air Nomad-He's super bubbly,openly kind and gentle,silly,optimistic,unrestrained and open-minded.He follows the no kill rule as a buddhist but also believes in severe brutality and has anger issues,low self-eestem and a snarky sense of humor,is very older sisterly/pseudo-momish as a coping mechanism from having almost no positive adult figures as a kid and being picked on by other kids and even adults all the time and his interests are pink/pastel things,suncakes,art,games,animal life and dancing!!!

He's introduced in 'The Warriors of Kyoshi' as he was on Kyoshi Island due to his travels and joins the Gaang because of his instant platonic connection with Aang.Aang says there's something familiar about Nia he can't quite place and he takes on the mom friend title instead of Katara since he's the eldest now and actually did it to himself instead of parentification like her.The two girls bond over being feminine and him and Sokka bicker all the time due to opposite personalities but they really are friends and Kataang is still a thing here so Nia wingmans them

It takes a hot minute for Zunia to reunite(as in several episodes)but Zuko gets hints to it through reports from his crew and is in denial of it at first only because he dosen't want his hopes to be crushed.We get flashbacks to their childhood days,including Zuko drawing both of them as dragons and Nia making strawberry suncakes for the first time for them to share as foreshadowing and this makes their reunion all the more upsetting because they don't even recognize eachother at first due to Nia's complete style change and Zuko's scar,plus the puberty,on top of his old best friend hunting down his new best friend at the order of his dad who he always made him feel safe from.There's a lot of tears and yelling and Nia has to be comforted by his honorary younger siblings afterwards and Zuko has to pretend nothing happened for the sake of not putting him in danger

Nia's very strong and smart so he's a pretty useful addition to The Gaang and provides comedy/jokes too and Aang tells him about The Air Nomads for funsies which leads to

The 'Dahla was actually an Air Nomad' drops happens in 'The Avatar State' when Aang and Nia are trying to figure out Avatar stuff together and it leds to spiritual magic jizz revealing it through Nia's soul.They're heavily shocked but Aang bursts into happy tears and tackle hugs Nia,rambling about how happy he is that he's not actually The Last Airbender and Nia smiles and agrees,telling him he already thinks of him as his little brother and Aang views him as his older sister so they officially dub eachother 'The Flight Siblings',Sokka telling them it's a stupid name and Katara drops water him for it.In 'The Blue Spirit',Nia had romantic moments with Zuko in his Blue Spirit suit so he gains a dreamy crush on him that's played for irony and second-hand embarrasment humor.Aang becomes Nia's Airbender Master starting in 'Nomads,Leafs and Forevers' and this strengthens their bond big time

Nia rejected Jet's attempted flirtatiouns on first meeting by saying 'I came here to make friends-Only friends so instead of trying something,try covering my back' and they got along well from then on even post 'betrayal',Toph dissed him at first because of how girly Nia but after they actually talked they clicked perfectly,'The Tale of Nia' replaces Iroh's section and it's about him saving a group of kids from Earth Kingdom propaganda by impressing them and being sweet to them and it's implied they grew up to be freedom fighters and 'The Tale of Zuko' is a gag bit where girls keep trying to hit on him but he keeps comparing them to Nia subcounciously so none of them stick,Ty Lee let's out a loud squee when she meets Nia again face to face and squishes him up in a hug as she says she's missed seeing his pretty pink face(platonically)and Mai drawls that he's gotten even weirder and Azula adresses him as 'Nini' when she was younger but also 'The Avatar's babysitter' now and they don't know eachother at all well since Ozai didn't even know about Nia being best friends with his son

Jet survives his attempted assisination by the Dai Li and joins the Gaang as it's 'token bad' teammate(not really,he's just genuinely radical).The shippy undertones between him and Katara are gone as they turn into platonic close friends and he acts as the cool bitchy but reliable older brother.Hama is also never villanized but potrayed as a tragic figure and a badass who gets reperations from the Fire Nation and basically adopts the Gaang as her grandkids,Katara still being scared of Bloodbending and choosing not to kill Yon Rha so Hama does the job for her since Kya was her childhood friend's daughter and she's built for killing fascists already,not being only 14.Yung and Dahla are given big significance on Nia's story as his parents and how they influenced her as a person like Zuko and their own life experiences did and 'The Dragon Nomad' is a title given to him pre-series because of being a traveling firebender but also has a double meaning that wasn't even intentional in-universe and there's quips about it as a running gag

Nia's none too eager to return to The Fire Nation but powers through and teaches his teammates how to blend in and takes them to a clothing store he used to go to as a kid and they have a positive talk with the owner not recognizing them until they all leave and as they exited,they make a comical expression and whisper 'I always knew that kid wasn't dead!I don't think that little airhead can even die!'.As they settle in,Nia can't help but go visit where his old home used to be to see nobody had even bothered picking things up or replacing it with a new building and it makes them tear up and he brakes down on his knees,screaming about how much he hates fire as he breathes pink flames from his mouth and dosen't even notice.He stays that way for a solid onscreen 30 seconds and is found by Zuko who frantically picks him up and hides him in an ally with him before soldiers can find him.He dosen't get to comfort him for long as Nia fully registers the situation and shoots up,curtly saying with a glare 'Thanks for the shoulder to cry on,Zuko'.Hope you're enjoying your new life perfect life without me' and runs off back to the Gaang's temporary residence and Zuko dosen't even bother getting up,struggling to find the words until Nia's too far to hear him,yelling out 'BUT IT'S NOT MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU!YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING I'VE EVER HAD TO PERFECT!'

Nia infilters the Royal Fire Academy For Girls and disrupts everything as he encourages the other female students to fight for their rights and proves to them the anti-Air Nomad things they were taught are lies and burned the academy down using his pink fire and his new friends help out with their own firebending.He cracks a couple eggs on the way too and 'The Beach' confirms Mai as a comphet lesbian,Tyzula as a mutually canon ship even if they don't get together and Nia is on Zuko's mind a lot and the fun summer-y setting he's in dosen't help.Nia's swimsuit is a pastel pink two piece and he has a crown of matching hisbiscus him and Aang made for eachother

Zuko and Nia finally make up in 'The Western Air Temple' as Zuko's decided to give up evil by becoming Aang's Firebending Master.Katara immediately rejects him as per canon,Aang welcomes him with open arms as always and Nia dosen't really know what to do with him.Zuko does his best to reassure him he's truly changed for the better in both words and actions and tries to recreate what they were like as kids until Nia puts his foot down and tells him 'We're not the same as we used to be........And i'm okay with that.I love the Zuko here like i did the old one' and Zuko's entire face goes beet red and Aang connects the dots and grins cheekily as he had a feeling they were a thing from the start.They act as the Team Mom and Team Dad of The Gaang or 'The Dragon Parents/Dadko and Momia' and Katara makes a snide comment on how she'd be expected to be with Zuko over Nia by the public

'The Boiling Rock' has Nia,Zuko and Sokka rescuing Yung and Hakoda and a conversation between Nia and Azula as they fight that's basically just Nia going 'You're not a perfect sexy calculated villaness,you're 14 with an abusive fascist dad and you deserve a therapist and some goddamn friends and fruit pies so you can calm down' and Azula responding 'FUCK YOU MEAN???NUH UH!!!!' and Yung and Nia have a heartwarming reunion and he eventually legally adopts Aang,Jet and Toph since they don't have living/good parents like the Water Tribe Siblings do.Nia's Ember Island Player counterpart is played by a nonblack actor who jokes about having no gender and reminders everyone he's still half Fire Nation not JUST Air Nomad because they're 'both equally important' and Nia'd never cringed harder in his life.Kataang went a bit differently since Aang asked Nia for romance advice since him and Zuko were unspokenly unofficially together so their only season 3 kiss is the finale one and the remaining run time is used on developing the other characters,including The Air Nomads in flashbacks.Nia is given a half dragon soul as a blessing by Avatar Wan to help Aang and it dosen't actually take much adjusment for him to get used to it

Mai and Ty Lee came to Nia on the Day Of Sozin's Comet to help him takedown Fire Nation Soldiers and the three girls fought viciously and had banter and peer support.They're nicknamed 'The Riot Gyals' and Ty Lee still joins the Kyoshi Warriors while Mai takes up a blacksmithing mentorship and Nia grows up to found his own children's education and protection system called 'Nia's Kidbender Program' that was built up by him with big help from Zuko but first,we get to Book 4 aka Book Air,which is something of a playable epilogue in cartoon episodes form of that makes sense and an improved version of the comics where we see The Gaang's lives and their world post-Ozai.This includes Kataang's dating dynamic,finding Ursa again,how they further helped the world with even more activism and direct action,Toph realizing she's a transmasc girl instead of just a tomboy,Nia being the Aang to Azula's Zuko by befriending her and thus her gaining character development that leads to a redemption arc and finally dating Ty Lee and last but not least,Zunia getting together

Like Kataang,it happens in the last episode of the season and the ultimate series finale but in the opening so it's almost entierly about Aang and how far he's come and Zuko and Nia being boygirlfriend and girlboyfriend it's titled 'Air,Fire,Dragon,Love' with the last word being about Zunia,The Flight Siblings and The Peace Brothers since their love for eachother is equally strong and important cosmically.The previous episode was a cliffhanger of Zuko asking Aang for help since he knows Nia as well as he does and them doing a grand romantic display with pink,dragon and summer themes that looked ridicioulous and Nia is pleasently stunned speechless and they think he hated it until he bursts outlaughing and drags Zuko off to start their date as he yells over his shoulder to Aang that he loves him and is proud of him and then calls Zuko 'such an old lord' for the cheesy display and he sputters back that he was trying to treat him like the future Fire Lady.It's Nia's turn to blush,entire face glowing like a pink version of The Avatar State and it's Zuko's rare turn to be the cocky one but as always it dosen't last for him

Their date consists of doing both romantic Fire Nation traditions and romantic Air Nomad traditions,including Zuko gifting Nia Air Nomad earrings he made with Aang's guidance.There's zero restrainment in their pda except not kissing until they get back to the Fire Palace and lean in for their first kiss at the same time which turns into several more chaste kisses and we get a final narration that's done by the entire Gaang in bits,flashing forward to their older years and we see Aang and Katara's wedding amongst many other things and this includes Zuko and Nia having a daughter named Zara

And 'The Airbender Legacies' refers to Aang and Nia for obvious reasons but also Aang choosing to keep their culture alive by not killing Ozai and Zara herself as the first Air Nomad born in a long ass time who'd live without persecution

@nogender-onlystars @moonage-gaydream @refrigeratedboombursts @cam24fan @biandbored @sarasanddollar @insomniac-jay @floof-ghostie @9ragonmew @mayameanderings @fandomunsexyman

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