#I see it as their soul almost—their connection to you

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

rewrite the ending in every lifetime・l.f

—From the moment Felix saw you drawing your dreams in the sand, he knew you were a daughter of the seas, with frozen fingers and feelings like the tide. So when the waves rush overhead, he will place his soul upon your tongue so your hollow heart can finally feel the warmth of the sun.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・felix x mommy issues!reader 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・angst, smut, a collection of moments the two of you have ever wanted to say I love you, his vow to find your soul in every lifetime, elutions to supernatural connections of humans hearts 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・8.1k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・The reader had mommy issues that are heavily described, manipulation, verbal abuse, references to physical abuse but it really isn't described, love bombing, alcoholism, references to blades and knives, sweet PIV sex, an ungodly amount of crying, panic attacks, there are some potentially disturbing descriptions in this honestly, uhh pregnancy and proposals (its really cute I promise) 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ・If you want to see the preview for this story look here 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ・Family Line by Conan Gray, If the World Was Ending by Jp Saxe and Julia Michaels, The Night We Met by Lord Huron, Cover Me by Our Beloved Stray Kids, Evergreen by Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners.

𝐚/𝐧・I have poured my heart and soul into this fic; I hope it heals you how it healed me.

i. It is the wounds we hide from the light that beg most to be seen.

Age 12.

Scene one.

The sand feels like stardust as you glide your hands across the sky, your frozen fingers tracing the edge of an anguished cry.

lair.

You write in scribbled chicken scratch,

lair.

lair.

lair.

You wipe it all away.

The ruthless afternoon sun glares off the playset before you, stabbing through your eyelids. You actually have to squint to make out any of the children shrieking and playing on the variety of scattered sets; a few push and shove each other on the slides, while the quiet, more reserved ones sit silently on the swings. Some were climbing on the monkey bars, others spinning on the merry-go-round, and then there was you, 12-and-a-half, drawing their sorrows in the sandbox.

You don't even know why you come here anymore. It almost makes you chuckle, imagining how others must see you—too old, too tall, too out of place to be sitting in a snot-infested box that smelled like the remnants of many, many nasty toddlers.

Though, as silly as it seemed, you needed an escape, an outlet to channel all this burning rage. You wanted to flip the world inside out, turn it around and upside down; shake it, shake it, shake it untill humans finally had some common sense. I mean, really, how could they not see it? How could anybody not see it?

The worst part of it is you don’t even have a reason to be mad. You hadn’t argued, you hadn’t fought, she hadn’t hit you, hadn’t taken away your stuff. No, that isn’t why you were mad.

You were mad because she's a liar.

A big, fat, ugly, fucking liar.

Her love only ever pools at the tip of a knife, the glint of all your hopes and dreams; It shimmers and shines in the overhead lights, in the cloud of the crowd’s ceaseless cheers. See it, look everyone, I'm great. Her hands cover their eyes. Look, world, she's trying. Do you see it? She's trying. She's trying, you're crying, and the world only ever applauds.

You sigh, smacking your hands on your thighs. You were inches away from combusting—Your emotions, like unreleased electricity, coalescing in the pit of your gut, one wrong spark away from exploding.

Why couldn't anybody see it?

An earsplitting screech of pure bliss pierces your eardrums as you snap your neck up. It wasn’t really hard to pinpoint the noise, figuring every few beats it would happen again. The sound was home to a little girl with blond braided hair and a smile that rivaled the sun, but it wasn’t her that caught your attention the most—It was the boy behind her, gently pushing her on the swings. Your heart skips in your chest; he was beautiful, the unique type of pretty, the kind that’s utterly humane. He had sprays of freckles and cheeks that permanently crinkled in a grin.

Who was he?

Perhaps it was Cupid’s feathered wings that tickled the boy’s chin up, because as soon as your gaze lifts, he inadvertently steps into a patch of light—his amber irises seeming to be encrested with honeyed seaglass, a phenomenon only created by the restless tumbling of a thousand folded seas; and even with an ocean of blinding afternoon sun, his eyes still found you.

Well, now that you really think about it, you were staring at him first, so it really isn’t as magical as your brain makes it up to be. But still—

You feel your lips part, your stomach flipping upside down. You would have usually been embarrassed, caught staring at such a beautiful boy, but you were floored, utterly flummoxed. Cupid drew his stringed bow, and with a flick of a finger, your heart was ensnared.

Subconsciously, you slip your hand into your front pocket, your thumb running over the smooth surface of a million different frosted bottles.

You found comfort in the concept—how easily humans discarded their broken trash, and in the excruciating process of being shattered, crushed, destroyed, the sea smoothed out their jagged edges. It was not their gruesome end; no, it was their birth.

Their birth into something so captivating so unique—

You were seaglass.

You wanted to be seaglass.

You were way too young to be thinking about the phenomenon of the ocean and the wisdoms of the world.

He was nothing less than breathtaking as his nose crinkled, the corners of his eyes disappearing into crescent moon-shaped slits. He was staring at you the same way one would look at an adorable puppy that just fell straight on its ass.

Oh, well, here comes the embarrassment. It hits you like a semi-truck, reality slamming into you harder than the tonnage before. There you were, sticky in sweat-caked sand, shifting through dirt and grime like a grody toddler, and there he was, innocently playing with what is probably his kid sister, looking perfect and beautiful and impossibly unsweaty.

Like, actually, how is he not sweating? It’s at least a million degrees out here. He catches your eyes again, his grin slowly forming into some (mysterious) mix between curious and mischievous. He eases the swing to a stop. The little girl grumbles in protest before he leans down into her ear, whispering something that makes her smile and nod, innocently toddling off into the abyss of grass and giggles.

You wonder why he stopped playing with her—that is until he starts walking over to you.

You had never, in all your 12 years of existence, heard a voice so naturally inviting—like the tender lullaby of whispering rain.

"Hi, my name's Felix. What's yours?"

Your lips formed around the letters—the way they fit so perfectly in your mouth.

In every lifetime, you turned the words on your tongue like a promise forgotten in the stars.

In every lifetime I will find you.

With jarring familiarity, you take his extended hand, blushing profusely when he asks if he can take a seat, you almost tweak a muscle nodding with such enthusiasm.

And in every lifetime, I will make you mine.

ii. I could find your soul in the sky because yours is the only one that smells like home.

Age 16.

Scene two.

"You look like shit," Felix teases, a pencil lodged firmly between his teeth; he was obnoxiously chipper for a Monday morning in math class.

You roll your eyes, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the classroom with a heavy-handed flick.

"Fuck off and die," you smile, slumping into your seat.

Felix lets out a forceful laugh, shocked by your abrupt hostility. His mouth stays agape far into the droning silence, his brain scrambles into damage control when you lack an immediate explanation.

“Come on now, is that any way to talk to your best friend?” He showcased his obnoxiously large smile with the bottoms of his palms in a gesture that said, Look at me. His goofy antics would usually make you at least grin, but today you were the very epitome of exhausted, swimming in a vat of thickening cement. You just wanted to melt into the comfort of your fluffy sheets—

The room erupts in a cacophony of screaming voices and roaring laughter.

Why must humans be so loud?

You groan, scooting your chair so close to Felix your bodies are practically smooshed together. If it bothered him, he didn't show it—or maybe you were too tired to notice. Either way, you drop your head onto the dip of his shoulder, his heat wrapping around you like a threadbare blanket—just enough warmth to dull the bite of a chill, but never enough to melt the ice.

"Somebody's tired," he coos with a hint of concern, slipping an arm over your shoulders. You nod, mumbling something along the lines of "tired" and "understatement." Your eyelids flutter shut to the sound of his heartbeat, and even under the bright fluorescent lights, everything starts to dim.

That is until your teacher shakes you awake, rudely plunging you back into the land of the living. You blink a few times, Felix's face a blur. You clear your throat. Your teacher was a short lady with a smile like a snob and her hair styled in a bob. She was loud and callous, with the temper of an obnoxious lapdog. You dig your palms into your eyes until your vision is painted in Picasso.

"We have a test today, L/N. I would sit up if I were you," she says, tossing two packets onto the desk, she flicks her eyes between the two of you, before pursing her lips like a woman clutching her pearls.

Of course.

Of fucking, fuckudy, fucking, course.

Of all the days.

Most of your night was encased in a bubble of beer, the stench of anguish, and the echo of wet cries. Your mother insisted on proving her godliness until the sun came up, for she, the untouchable essence of perfection, could never be wrong.

You nodded in and out of consciousness, only ebbing along the edge of the ocean before the tide pulled away.

You just wanted to sleep.

"Hey, wake up," Felix says, softly nudging you awake. His touch is feather-light, but it feels like the stab of a thousand sharpened pencils, the way your annoyance flares up.

"No," you croak, the lights like little lanterns reflecting off the surface of your tears. He hesitates for a moment, his tender hand leaving your skin for just enough time to make you crave it more.

"You have to wake up, or you're going to fail the test." He mumbles, gently lacing his fingers through your hair.

"I don't care anymore." You were traipsing on a tightrope with a body made of glass. You slip, you fall, you risk it all to tumble into his embrace. You felt it in your bones, the way he smelled like home, and you'd give anything to have it back.

Just once.

"Please," you whisper. It grates in his ears like gravel, your watery lashes cracking his heart in two.

You wanted to go home.

He pauses, narrowing his eyes in indecision before biting his lip and turning to scan Mrs. Womperbottom. You sit impatiently, bouncing your legs up and down. He flicks his stare to you, all your eye bags and smudged makeup, with that, his gaze softens, face melting into a small smile.

"Okay." He concedes, taking your body into his hands, carefully nuzzling your head to sit snug on the curve of his chest. You were so glad to sit in the back, especially as the world fades to black.

"I expected far more from you, young man."

It had been a few days since you fell asleep in Felix's arms, opting to turn in a blank packet rather than fight the urge to skydive without a parachute. Your brows furrow as your teacher frowns in disappointment. Felix, whose cheeks turn red as his eyes grow wide—equal parts panic and regret—seems to know exactly what's going on.

She flips the packet around. His fingers wrap around the paper, never turning it to see the depth of the damage. Only when he hastily unzips his bag, do you notice in the frenzy of movement—

A thick red F at the front.

Your jaw goes slack, lips gaping ever so slightly. He doesn’t meet your gaze, even when the room erupts in a deafening ring, chairs screeching as people scamper out. Your eyes blur like the lens of an old camera, faulty with the ages of time.

Carefully, you turn your page.

A

Your mouth is filled with sand.

You never did the test.

You flick through the edges of oblivion.

Every answer.

Every circle.

He did your test for you.

It was the sheer selflessness of his act that threw you for a loop—how a man who could have the whole world at the tip of his fingers could also be so impossibly kind.

That was a feat you believed no human was capable of, cynicism long engraved into your DNA. Your own blood was indebted to your mother, so how could a man with no inherent obligation to you, show such devotion?

"In the scars of sea glass, you will find your answer," the stars whispered.

"He loves you," the universe says.

"Do not doubt his intentions," time tells. "His soul has already found you in every lifetime."

iii. There are so many things in the world that must first collapse before it is born; why do we not believe humans are the same way?

Three months ago.

Scene Three.

Playing: The Night We Met.

"I love you, you know that, right, baby?" your mother slurs, her words tangled in a cloud of stale beer. She called you in a fit of drunken giggles, professing her undying ardor, wedged between passive pleas to come pick her up.

Something deep inside you screams as her arm wraps around your waist, the voice you fought to hide, it sounds and pounds at the walls of your ribs.

Not again, please.

You had spent so much of your life tangled in her web of lies, pulling at every poisoned thread.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, how many different ways can I make my daughter fall?

“I love you so, so much,” she cocoons your cheeks in comforting hands, and almost for a minute, you fall into the fuzz, into the black and blurry buzz of the mix between right and wrong.

She does not love you.

She loves your reflection and how it so greatly mirrors hers.

You were an extension of herself, the one she holds, the one she molds, her fingerprints sticking in the sand.

Brick by brick, she builds you up.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, how many different ways can I make my daughter fall?

She loves you, she says.

But she is in love with a mirror, the shattered glass of a battered reflection, the one that can never improve.

For she is too great in her empty state; she has nothing to prove.

You will never change a woman made of stone.

You will only ever break your bones.

So you drop the remote

with an echoing plop

and let all her love leak out.

You don’t really love me, do you?

Just pretend one more time.

Just one more time.

You drag her stumbling figure up a grueling flight of stairs. She giggles and hiccups when one of her feet catches on the edge of a step.

Her eyes are clouded as you lower her onto the bed. She caresses your cheek with silky fingers.

You relapse.

Rewind.

“Come lay with me, baby.”

You don’t cry, don’t die as the tip of her knife digs into the skin of your thigh.

You collapse into the warmth of her covered arms, shrouded with the lies of alcohol.

Brick by brick.

You nuzzle your head deeper into her neck.

She builds you up.

Just one more time.

She curls her hands around your heart.

I love you.

Your mother was too in love with herself to find room in her heart to love you.

Your tears taste like sorrow when they seep onto your tongue, cascading down your shuddering lips like the bullets of rain that whip across your face, dripping into your sodden shirt. Your heart was burdened by paradox, the overwhelming tonnage of utter desolation; you sink your fingers into your chest as if breaking the surface of snow, searching for any sign of humanity.

Perhaps it was fate's gentle hand that guided you from stumbling through your mother's desolate driveway to softly rapping your knuckles on Lee Felix's front door, cause the moment your weary feet touched his familiar steps, something stirred deep within. In a multiverse of infinite universes, it felt as though every timeline suddenly collided, merging to form this pivotal moment in your history—the story of you and him. The mere thought made you question its legitimacy, until the door creaked open, and suddenly, everything you'd almost forgotten came rushing back.

It was the disheveled state of his hair that you notice first—tousled atop his head like a misty halo; his eyes were heavy-lidded, foggy with frosted sea glass. You choke back a sob; the sunlit streetlights really do him wonders.

The moment you step into his line of sight, he can sense something is wrong. You're soaked to the bone, though the rain is barely coming down; your eyes glazed with a grief so acute it resonates in his very core.

He reaches a hand out—

"Y/N, what happened?"

You unravel; your knees giving out, all the energy spent on keeping yourself upright diffuses into an agonizing sob. Your hands find purchase on his steady shoulders as you threaten to collapse straight into the wet patio floor.

The universe had split apart, the sky falling down. You were crumbling, caught in between thick chunks of earth; you couldn’t breathe—

you gasp

The weight of a quivering world crashes into your chest, an earthquake erupting at the base of your spine. You were the daughter of destruction, bleeding with the wrath of humanity's woe.

Wordlessly, Felix chases your agony down, drawing you gently into his embrace. You had rehearsed your excuses all the way here, but when his arms wrap around your waist, the lies soak straight back into your throat.

Settled atop folded thighs, his free hand moves; lacing his fingers around the nape of your neck. His lips like life, pressing into the cold, dead skin of your outer shell; he grazes the apple of your cheek, the slope of your nose, the flat of your forehead, the tremble in your hand; and at last, with hooded eyes, his gaze finds your mouth. You are an amalgamation of quivering limbs, your bones like leaves; he locks his strength around the base of your spine, palms steading you from the outside in.

And yet, you lament, how desperately you wanted his lips to form around your flesh with the irrevocable promise of always, but you know the ramifications of such a thing; you were the embodiment of devastation, born with a blade in your hand, you would only ever hurt him. He did not deserve that. So instead of chasing your dreams, you chase the solitude of his skin, firm against your cheek.

"I'm here." He is—through it all. Through every violent hiccup and every hushed sob, Felix stays with you, fierce hands anchoring you back into reality. Finally, after lifetimes locked in this position, you find the strength to plead, "Do you think we could go somewhere?"

I would go anywhere with you, is what he wants to say.

“Of course,” is what he does.

A muted smile tugs at the corners of your cheeks, and with every labored rise of your chest, he fights the urge to hook his hand underneath your jaw, sucking all your pain into his lips. He doesn't. Instead, he lifts you up and follows his feet wherever your soul wants to take him.

He hooks his ardency on the sun as it starts to sink low. The world is dipped in darkness, perforated by the warmth of a cratered moon. Déjà vu follows you down the dark, dirt-paved road, marked by children's footsteps. Your heavy steps stop, mouth forming around the shape of a suffocated gasp. The trees rustle in the breeze, the wind slapping against the metal of a misty memory.

You had never, in all your 12 years of existence, heard a voice so naturally inviting—like the tender lullaby of pattering rain.

"Hi, my name's Felix. What's yours?"

Your lips formed around the letters—the way they fit so perfectly in your mouth.

In every lifetime, you turned the words on your tongue like a promise forgotten in the stars.

He remembered.

He really remembered.

Felix could never forget.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Come on!" he calls out, breaking into a backward jog, his smile beckoning you closer to the swings.

And with a swipe of his hand, you have already left your afflictions on the imprint of your shoes. Cold rubber hits you first, your thighs bouncing into the seat. His fingers latch around the frame of your waist, thrusting you into the air.

You laugh with the resonance of lost youth.

Time slips from your fingers like dust, forgotten in the way you had drifted from the swings to the slides, only to circle back again. It wasn’t until your skin had brushed every corner of the park that you found yourself lying on the damp earth, sinking deeper into the solace of Felix’s chest. His heart hums like the rhythm of a song so intimate, you could recite the whole melody from just the first note.

Stars blink overhead, still—sparkling, spread across the sky like golden thread sewn into rippling silk. You first settle into comfortable silence, both equally at peace, but the heavy burden of unspoken questions leaks into the calm air; forcing you to speak.

Softly, weakly, you tell him about your fears, about how much you hate her, how much you hate loving her, and how much you want to rip out every helix of her DNA.

Felix doesn't respond for a long time after this, inhaling your confessions with all the deference you deserve. Your heart slams into the slats of your ribs, shaky breaths forced into the balmy summer breeze. There was something so potently terrifying about voicing your issues, especially after masking them for so long; your pain splintered across the ground like the most fucked-up stained glass—as though Felix could sense your building anxiety, he kisses the crown of your head, murmuring into your hair:

"Even the moon hides parts of herself from the sun."

At that moment, with overwhelming certitude, you knew—even littered with secrets and scars, his rays would kiss whatever side you wished to show.

"In every lifetime," you plead through tear-stained lashes.

Maybe in another universe, you could be easy to love.

“In every lifetime.” Aged fingers run the length of your soul, tracing the vow 'I do.' In every lifetime, he would find you—broken or whole, with the sky falling, the sea sinking, the world tumbling down.

"Stay with me," you whisper to the wind as the stars start to dim.

"Always." He will find you in every lifetime and love every mangled piece.

The ocean.

You are wrapped in its cool embrace. The shore hums with soft lullabies as the wind whips across the water. Amorphous mist floats along the top of the sand, shrouding it in a dreamlike shade. Your fingers are formless as they dip into the darkness. Something sparkles. You lift your gaze.

Sea glass.

It’s basked in warm moonlight, buried in a fissure of the earth. You collapse onto the ground, your knees quivering as frantic fingers dig into the land.

Your hands are cold, holding something so old. You flip the smooth stone.

I love you.

You run your thumb over the inscription.

I love you.

It is only through the tumbling of a thousand folded seas that sea glass can even come to be, and maybe, that is how your soul found me.

You wake up in a bed that isn't your own with the warmth of the sea and the smell of home.

I love you.

iv. Just once, let him rewrite the story; just once, he promises you will never have to watch the same ending again.

Present day.

Scene four.

Playing: Cover Me.

The screen flickers off.

The velvet curtains close.

The world fades to black.

The End

Your ribs crack open, heavy sobs echoing through the gaps of your unfolded bones. Your hands make purchase around your shredded soul, the warm liquid of your sorrows trickling through your splayed fingers like the shadow's phantom finger tracing the lines of your melancholy, dusting over the hill of your cheeks. 

One more time.

Just one more time.

You rewind the tape-

The velvet curtains stutter open.

The screen flashes white.

Just one more time.

How many times could you watch the same movie before you realized the ending would never change?

You rewind the tape-

How many times could you lick her love off the edge of a knife before you realize the blade will never dull?

You slide the tip across your tongue-

Just one more time.

Please.

Just pretend to love me one more time.

"For once, can you admit that you're wrong?" you snap, attempting to steady your rising voice. 

You've been arguing with your mother for centuries, breath grating across your throat like grains of sand. It took every shred of mental stability not to bash your head into the wall.

"I did what I had to do to teach you discipline; you were unruly-"

"I was nine!" you shout, a weak, wounded cry. "Nine!"

How could she not see that?

"I did it because I loved you."

Where did the argument even begin? You search the past 30 minutes, all the way from the start, sitting on the couch with Felix, The Princess Bride playing in the background. Your ringing phone cuts through the movie. He tells you to answer it. You do. What happened after that? Your head is foggy with hurt, time forced into an everlasting circle of the same issues.

"Maybe you should reevaluate your definition of love."

"Maybe you should have just been a better daughter."

The signal of an ended call rings through your ears as the world fades to black.

The velvet curtains close.

The screen flickers off.

The movie sputters to a stop.

The End

You are far too entranced with the stillness of your spine to hear the door creak open, Felix’s hesitant footsteps carefully creep closer. It is only when he mumbles a soft, saturnine "sweetheart" that you finally feel something-

"How did it go?" Felix believed the strings of your souls were so intertwined, the two of you experienced emotions the way an instrument feels the thrum of a cord; but as your heart pumps with an intangible amount of anguish, maybe even for you, some feelings were simply too subjective to share.

Wordlessly, thoughtlessly, your hand chases his touch, a million different uncompleted sentences dissipating as soon as your skin connects; your fingers beg, hold me, even as your mouth shutters shut, dusty rivulets cascading across your cheeks.

You were empty.

so, so, very empty-

Felix's hands lock underneath the bend of your knees, steady arms curling around the small of your back, and in a gentle flow of movements, he cradles you against his chest.

You rewind the tape.

Just one more time.

"Please," you have lived so much of your life caught in a perpetual state of emptiness, for once, you wanted to remember what your body was like before your mother bore you with the heavy burden of broken wings.

"Touch me," shaky fingers cling to him, pleading with so much of your soul none is left to protest. He gasps into your neck, his face scrawled with worry, the etch of a thousand different fears drawn into the deep lines of his forehead.

Just once

Let him rewind the film

Just once

You will never have to watch the same ending again.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Though his words are unsure, his actions tell a different story; tender hands massage the tops of your thighs, reluctantly begging you to open up, to unfold your deformed ribs, where he will fill your hollow bones with the type of love you have only ever yearned for.

"I need you."

You need him more than you need your heart to beat, your lungs to breathe; you need him more than you need the birds, the bees, the ground, the trees—

Your frantic fingers smooth around the base of his neck, further blurring the line of friendship; and in one sharp movement, he takes a sledgehammer to any hope of going back. Your lips collided with the zeal of years lost to silent longing, a kiss that unfurled all time and space, bursting with the passion of hearts starving for connection.

He would not hurt you-

Please, collapse into him,  just once-

Let him prove that you will never have to fall again-

This could ruin everything, and yet he lays you upon the silken sheets with such soulful kindness your glassy eyes threaten to break; his heart thrums with the vow of I'll make you fly. His hand dips into the band of your shorts, pleasure peeking out from the shadows of your mind, only ever bobbing its head long enough to fill your skin with a minute tingling sensation—like running your hands under hot water after a long day in the snow, but it was not enough.

"Felix, I need you," His eyes widen slightly, features stricken with a sudden tightness, a burdened tonnage; you were handing him your heart with the hope his hands weren't made of blades, and the idea of the utter trust you have put in him to do that makes his stomach flip.

Just once—

He will prove it all to you.

"As you wish," Not even 20 minutes ago you were sitting on the couch watching the greatest love story ever told, and now, here you are living it. How did you get so lucky? It's unfathomable how attentive he manages to be, his nose nudging the slope of your neck before laying a peck on your collarbone. His mouth never leaves your flesh even as he slowly strips off layer after layer of fabric.

"I want to see all of you" Now it was your turn, taking his time removing your clothes. His fingers slide across your skin with a delicate intimacy, a tender reverence; his lips tracing the lines of your seams until your very atoms are etched with his name.

I hate her

I love you

I love you

I love you

He coupled every leak of anger with a river of love, kissing your limbs until all your body could remember was the pureness of his ardor.

"Are you ready?" he whispers, lining himself with your entrance, all he needs is a word to finally sink himself in. Your eyes are glossy, gazing up at him with such an unadulterated passion, a pure amount of pain—this will tear you apart, and he promises with every fiber of his being, he will put you back together.

"Yes." You have lived most of your life with the heavy burden of a body’s broken wings, and it isn't until Felix’s crafted hands finally crease your ribs that you realize origami can only emerge when you fold it up, the way a bird can only fly when it falls.

You are an amalgamation; so much of your soul is lost in his lips you don't know where he begins and you end, but when a rush of pleasure tingles up your spine, you don't care.

The world is tangled somewhere on the edge of in-between space and time, melding together into a mushy, gushy substance that slips through your fingers as they lace in his raven locks. You pour all your pain into the slit of his lips, where he sucks in every drop, leaving no room for your protests.

Your head is empty, airy, only tethered to the earth by one dangerous thought:

I love you. You did. You have; in every timeline; in every universe; in every lifetime; you have loved him, and you knew with all your heart, he felt the same.

“I love you.” The words slip off your tongue, dripping into his mouth like melting snow. You had fallen in love with existence itself—a boy with a soul made of sun and eyes like sea glass. A man whose strings reached across every plane of time to find you. His fingers still, a soft burst of air puffing into your cheeks.

For minutes, hours, Felix can only stare, his strangled breaths wafting over your chin. You gulp, at least five differently worded apologies tangling themselves on your tongue. He doesn’t let you speak. Instead, he brings his hands to either side of your face, resting his forehead against your own; on your lips, not fear, but instead, words.

"Say it again," he urges, kisses split by the warmth of a starlit smile.

"I love you, Lee Felix." you share the galaxy in between your lips.

His arms slip around your waist, drawing you impossibly closer; there are no limits, no constraints when he captures your shuddering gasp. He has waited years to hear those words, so with a breathy rasp, he begs, "Tell me you love me, tell me until you are sick of it."

"I love you," you repeat, beginning to laugh. "I love you. I love you, fuck, Felix, there has never been a time where I haven't loved you."

The passion that surged in the twists of your heartbeats began to be too much to bear; his hips ruthlessly rutting into yours, you cry out, chasing the edge of a daydream. So close, so close, so—you can only hear the crash of your soul shattering before his ginger fingers sew you back together.

You both slam down into the earth at the same time, holding each other's tired bodies as the ground swallows you up.

His arms lock around your head, quivering as he struggles to hold himself up, droplets of tears land on your cheeks as they drip down the slope of his nose. He was so perfect-

so, so, very perfect.

Your mouth raises to kiss a tear clinging to the tip of his nose. He chokes, squeezing his eyes shut. You both are thrumming with tension, overflowing with emotion; before you can even blink, he is pulling you to his chest, naked and sticky, he holds you closer than you have ever been.

"I love you." He cups your trembling cheeks, throat tightening around the earnestness in his tone. You can run from the stars; you can hide from the bay, but his love will find you just as the sun finds the day.

v. She is only in your DNA.

Five months later.

Scene five.

Playing: If the world was ending.

Anxiety is like a cup that never falls, the tease of water sloshing at the rim. It comes in inclines—the clench in your chest, the flip in your stomach, the tremble in your spine. The world begins to quake, the table tips, the water shifts, but none of it ever pours out.

That was how you felt right now, a bright pink river rushing underneath your feet, sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss.

No matter how many times you squeezed your eyes and wished it all away, reality still managed to smack you in the face.

Positive

Your numb hand goes limp, the plastic pregnancy test tumbling to the tiles with a deafening crack. Cold porcelain seeps into your skin as you drop your tear-stained cheeks between your knees, all your deepest, darkest fears suddenly snapping into view.

"Just wait until you have kids." Sometimes, it is the most overpowering emotions you can feel most clearly.

Determination.

"One day, when I grow up, I'll meet the perfect guy, and get married, and have tons of babies—and I will do it all without ever becoming you." She scoffs, rolling her shoulders as if she had already unraveled the scrolls of your soul, and engraved on the paper was your life, traveled down a perfectly mirrored path.

"I said the same thing when I was your age, but then I had the kids, and everything changed. You aren't going to be able to do it."

You were only 13 then, and yet, with unwavering resolve, you declared, "Watch me."

How were you going to tell him? Was your first thought.

How could you manage to be a mother? Was your next.

You dug your hands into your chest, wishing to tear your seams. In her womb, she had stitched you up, and now you spent every waking moment trying to unravel the threads.

You wanted to vomit—vomit until your blood ran dry, until it curdled around your muscles, trembling over the cold toilet seat.

"Watch me," you had said.

"Watch me fall apart" is what you had meant.

So she does, through the blurred layers of your reflection, her eyes staring back. Why did you have to bear such an eerie resemblance to her? The power she held over you was suffocating, for even in thought, she found ways to claw at your lungs.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, how many different ways can I make my daughter fall?

It's been hours.

Many, many hours before Felix finds you huddled beside the toilet bowl. Your dead eyes stare—just stare. Not blinking. Not moving. Not twitching an inch. His reaction is almost instant; he drops to his knees, jerking you towards himself. He grips your pale cheeks, begging you to look at him—just once. Blink. Flinch. Move something. Finally, finally, like little butterfly wings, your eyelids flutter to life. Before you can even speak, he's yanking your head onto his chest, his heart pounding vehemently inside the thin fabric of his cotton T-shirt.

Though every cell in your body screams at you to stay, you withdraw. Your gaze is laden when it lands on him, and for a moment, he is taken aback—that is, until you slip a slim white object into his palms.

Silence.

That is what precedes your actions. He stuffs your heart into a meat grinder, and with every excruciating minute that passes, it feels like he cranks it up one level higher. He reads the result over and over, breaking it down to syllables, letters—backwards, forwards, flipped upside down. Part of him didn't believe it—not that he didn't want to believe it, but simply because he couldn't. It felt impossible, improbable, really. His tongue twisted into knots between his teeth, rendering him utterly speechless. So instead, with trembling fingers, he grasps your wet jaw and pours all his thoughts into the line of your lips.

It came out a little something like: I love you

The whiplash is dizzying, like stepping into pounding rain and spinning; spinning, spinning, spinning until it feels like you'll twirl right off the earth. How could you believe that he’d reject you? It was so colossally stupid you almost want to smack yourself in the face—not that Felix would let you, of course.

You gasp at the same moment he sniffles, your synchrony causing him to chuckle, the sound thick with tears. He lays his forehead on yours, a disbelieving smile cracking across his cheeks.

"I'm going to be a dad," he utters, already envisioning all the adventures ahead. Hell, he was practically braiding his baby girl's hair right now. He seems to catch up with this reality because, with a sudden jerk, he has locked his hands underneath your armpits, hauling you into the air. You squeal, clutching his shoulders so tightly your nails dig in; it doesn't faze him—not when his head is tilted back, his smile like the edge of an everlasting sunrise. In that moment, as the bathroom swirls, you know, it was only with him your baby could view their reflection through the shattered glass of a broken cycle; and that is an accomplishment worth celebrating. At last, you begin to laugh.

Once you have begun, you don’t stop—not even when he gently sets you down, giggling as you sway, foggy and disoriented, his hands firmly steadying you by the shoulders. When you find enough balance to walk, you clasp urgent fingers around his wrist, drawing him to the bed. He happily follows. Calves hitting the frame, you fall backward, bouncing onto the mattress. With a dimpled grin, he crawls over your waist, littering kisses all over your face, leaving wet, slobbery marks. Laughter spills out of you uncontrollably, groaning when he licks up your cheek.

"Ewww, Lix, that was gross!" you giggle, wrinkling your nose in faux disgust. All of a sudden, as the overhead lights catch the bands of your eyes, it feels as though his breath has been ripped straight from his lungs—a stunning epiphany dawning on him.

He could reach across every timeline in an infinite multiverse of parallel realities, and yet, he still wouldn’t find a version of himself as in love with you as he is right now.

So, he does something crazy.

"I wanted to wait for the right time to do this," he utters, his face tight with masked emotion. "And I promise, one day I'll buy you something flashier." Your brows furrow, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, about as confused as you are nervous—especially when he slides down the bed, halting to leave a kiss atop the fabric of your covered belly. His nose bumps your stomach when he peers up at you through tear-stained lashes. "But for now, I wanted to ask for your heart with something meaningful—something that means forever."

Every atom buzzes with anticipation when he dips to one knee, digging a finger into his pocket. Finally, he fishes a small velvet box from the confines of his pocket. Your hands fly to your face, shielding a choked sob. "Will you marry me, Y/N L/N? Will you let me love you in every lifetime?" He flips open the lid, and as if you were dipping into the well of time, nestled in the silky cushions was amber sea glass—your amber sea glass. For years, it burned a hole in your pocket, anchoring you to the ground, to earth. Then you met him, and suddenly, you didn’t seem to need it anymore. You evolved, and in time, your little sliver of the sea got lost among the waves of life. You don't ask him where he found it; frankly, you don’t care. You don’t really care about anything except him.

Without a shred of doubt, you exclaim, "Yes! Yes, Felix! Of course, I’ll marry you!" You don't even let him hand you the necklace before you collide with his chest. He grunts as your full body weight slams into him, but he doesn’t mind it—not when you’re busy kissing words onto his freckles, mumbling over and over, "I love you. I love you. I love you." He is so enthralled with the moment that he almost forgets.

"There’s more," he breathes, extracting the box from between your smooshed stomachs—not really sure how it got there, but nevertheless settled atop his folded thighs, he uncurls your fist, sliding the pendant into your palm.

Your hands are cold, holding something so old. You flip the smooth stone.

Time was such a volatile thing; how easily it is broken—for with a simple flick of the wrist, you are caught outside of all existence.

Your lips part, his sucking in your shuddering gasp. Right then, right there, all that existed was the two of you, his hands trailing up your shoulders, the cold snap of gold clasping around your neck. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again. Your fingers tug at the weight around your neck, almost in awe that you still had it on—that any of this was real.

In every lifetime.

You run your thumb over the inscriptions, golden letters scrawled on the surface of a star. He had plucked his promise straight from the sky. For now, far past his grave, your love will live on, tumbling deep beneath the waves, until his soul finds it and pledges you his heart all over again.

If you liked this please consider telling me i worked really hard on this Thank you! also little side note if I find time I might add an installment because there was supposed to be one more scene before the pregnancy but I got too overwhelmed but that scene gave more of a closing to the readers relationship with her mom sooo maybe more soon lol

[linkspooky]

DUEL VS. DUEL: Yubel and Judai vs Ai and Playmaker

If you haven't noticed YGO! often recycles different characters and plot ideas throughout its various spinoffs. There's usually a rival whose ace monster is a dragon, a best friend character to support the main character, there's almost always a guy like Bakura who has several things wrong with him. This isn't a criticism, I actually love the way that each spinoff builds off of all the other series while also remaining its own thing. There's a lot of meaning you can decipher from analyzing the intentional callbacks the authors put in to previous series so that's what we're going to do today.

Both GX and Vrains feature a third season where the protagonist's partner character becomes the main antagonist for the entire season, and manages to pick off the protagonist's friends one by one until they're all alone with the protag for the final duel. Both of these characters, Yubel and Ai aren't motivated by hate but rather a twisted form of love and the parallels between these two duels don't stop there.

Yubel and Yusaku: Love vs. Ai

The partner character appears in almost every YGO! series with the exception of 5DS and Sevens. It began with Yami Yugi, a second personality created inside Yugi who played took over and played games in Yugi's place and cursed everyone who offended him only to eventually build a partnership with Yugi that lasted for most of the series until Atem reclaimed his name and memories and became his own person again.

These partner characters usually assist in duels, and are either another personality existing inside the protagonist, or if they're external like Astral or Ai they still share a special link with the protagonist.

Yubel and Ai are unique because they are both partner characters who turn into major antagonists. They don't just share the role of antagonists there's also several similarities between the two of them, from motivation, their connection to the protagonist, and both characters being built around the concept of love. This is probably intentional because the scenario writer for all of Vrains also worked on large parts of GX and was the main scenario writer for Season 4.

To introduce both characters, Yubel is a Duel Spirit. They were originally a human child named Yubel who was the closest friend of the boy who would eventually grow up to be the Supreme King and reincarnate in the modern day as Judai Yuki. Yubel gave up their humanity and in a painful surgery became a hideous dragon with an impenetrable body in order to protect Judai.

Afterwards the boy who would eventually become the Supreme King swore eternal love to Yubel. Yubel's devotion followed Judai into the next life, where because Yubel gave up their humanity they reincarnated as a card spirit instead that only Judai could see. They used their considerable power to protect Judai from anyone they considered a threat, including other neighborhood kids who beat him in card games. Judai as a result became completely isolated. Which Yubel didn't mind because Judai was their entire world and they believed they should have been enough for Judai.

Judai decided to send Yubel's card away into space in the hopes that the space rays would calm Yubel's troubled soul, but instead Yubel became corrupted by a cosmic force known as THE LIGHT OF DESTRUCTION. Yubel endured ten years of torture and agony all along. At first they called out to Judai in his dreams, but his parents eventually forced Judai to go through a procedure that made him forget all memories of Yubel.

Alone and forgotten Yubel crashes down to earth and is torn to pieces. As an arm they parasitize several people until they gain enough power to reconstitute their body, and then dragon Judai and all his friends into another dimmension all as a part of their grand scheme to finally reunite with Judai and awaken his memories of the Supreme King.

Even though they were hurt by Judai, Yubel isn't motivated by revenge, but by love and a desire to be together with Judai and secure all of Judai's love for themselves. Yubel's twisted definition of love was formed when after crying for help one final time, they snapped and told themselves a lie in order to keep going. That ignoring Yubel, making them suffer, leaving them all alone it was just the way that Judai expressed his love. Yubel then becomes dedicated to showing that love in return and effectively dragging Judai down to their level.

Yubel: I was suffering as you came to forget about me… Yubel: It burns… It hurts…It’s killing me. But why? I love him so much. Why is Judai treating me like this? Yubel: And then it hit me. This is just a form of Judai’s love. Judai is hurting me and making me suffer because of his love for me. But you see, I couldn’t possibly forget about you in the time i’ve suffered. Yubel: So when I solved the riddle that you posed to me, I was delighted. And that fueled my decision. I would try to fill the entire twelve dimmensions with my love for you. Yubel: And once I did you would have to recognize my love for you, wouldn’t you?

Ai is also a character that's connected to Yusaku's childhood. Ai is an ignis, and artificial intelligence that was created by basically torturing six children by forcing them to duel over and over again and then scanning their brains and modeling six different AI off of the data.

The shadow ignis or AI quite literally came from Yusaku's brain, even though they don't meet until much later on in life. From the onset there's a lot of differences between Ai and Yubel's role as partners. Ai is Yusaku's partner for most of the series, and is effectively introduced as a stranger and has to build a bond fo trust with Yusaku over the first two seasons.

Whereas Yubel was Judai's best friend and favorite monster in childhood, but Judai has forgotten about Yubel in the first two seasons and when Yubel finally does appear again it's as an enemy. The bond between Yusaku and Ai forms and then falls apart, whereas both Yubel and Judai start out with their bond completely broken and over the course of season three they reunite and come back together.

Ai is motivated by first his own survival, and second the survival of all the other ignis who are currently being hunted by several human corporations, a group of hackers known as the knights of Hanoi, and one Ignis themselves known as Lightning who turned traitor to the other Ignis. Yusaki and Ai's shared goal is to find a way for the Ignis and Humans to co-exist without one of them trying to pre-emptively wipe out the other because of the danger both of them pose to each other.

Over the course of the story though, as one by one Ai loses his friends in the fellow Ignis who either die or are absorbed, he comes to obsess over Yusaku as his one remaining friend. Yubel and Judai's feelings for one another are a holdover from a previous lifetime they become estranged and reunite again, whereas Ai comes to love and obsess over Yusaku similiarly to Yubel does and it's precisely because of those obsessive and overprotective feelings he decides to terminate their relationship permanently.

Ai enacts a plan similiar to Yubel's to destroy Yusaku's friends one by one all while threatening the entire world. Yubel sought to fuse the dimmensions together, while AI wants to start the inevitable fight between the Ignis and Humanity on his terms.

While their role in the story and characters are similar, they're also contrasting opposites in many ways. Yubel started out as a human and gave up their humanity to become a duel spirit. Ai started out as an artificial intelligence, he thinks as an artificial intelligence who has trouble understanding humans, and while he becomes more humanlike all the time he's eventually hampered by his inability to think like a human. Yubel is also much older than Ai having lived two lifetimes with memories of both, whereas Ai is essentially a child, a fledgling sentient being who still doesn't understand many things about the world.

Their different levels of maturity really show in their understanding of the world around them, or rather Ai's naivete and lack of understanding. Both characters are built around the concept of love, with love for the protagonist as their main motivation but Yubel while twisted demonstrates a deep understanding of love.

Yubel is able to see inside the hearts of people and uses their intimate knowledge of their inner darkness in order to twist people according to their own desires. Yubel's actually a deeply empathic character able to understand people's feelings sometimes better than they understand themselves, they just use that empathic understanding for evil.

While their understanding of love sounds insane at times they're also able to make deep observations about not only people's relationships to each other but the darker nature of love. As much as we shy away from the idea of hurting the ones we love on purpose, there's a seed of truth in the fact that whether intentionally or unintentionally being close to someone means you will hurt them. That pain is a natural part of love. She's also able to suss out the unhealthy love and devotion shared between Amon and Echo quickly.

Yubel: I get it now… You weren’t in love with Echo. Yubel: No. You may have loved her just enough to clear the conditions in place for you to control Exodia. Yubel: But then, you didn’t truly love each other. Yubel: You were only unfairly hurting her, while you would stay unharmed. Yubel: You wouldn’t suffer. You wouldn’t be in pain.

Yubel also ultimately seeks a love between equals. As much as they frame themselves as Judai's protector, what they want is for Judai to be dragged down to their level so Judai will finally understand them.

Their entire plan revolved around isolating Judai until Judai understood the pain of suffering ten years alone in space that Yubel went through. When Judai snaps and becomes the Supreme King taking a similiar dark turn to Yubel, Yubel turns out to be right in the end. By the time they've reunited both Judai and Yubel have done terrible things and hurt the people they loved.

Yubel: So when I solved the riddle that you posed to me, I was delighted. And that fueled my decision. I would try to fill the entire twelve dimmensions with my love for you. Yubel: And once I did you would have to recognize my love for you, wouldn’t you? Yubel: That is why I sought to fill all those linked to you - your world - with both sadness and anguish. Yubel: ANd my line of thinking wasn’t wrong. Yubel: I mean you are right before my eyes, Judai.

Yubel operates on a principle of empathy and understanding through shared suffering. Whereas, I would argue while Ai cares about Yusaku they are not particularly empathic nor do they understand Yusaku. This is because Ai is practically a newborn existence naive to the world, and also as a computer with a computer brain fundamentally thinks differently.

However, I'd also argue that Ai also doesn't really want to try to change their thinking to bridge the gap between humans an AI. In despair they've completely given up on trying to understand humans. They also on some level don't want to change, because they arrogantly assume they know what's best for both them and Yusaku.

Ai has given into despair from losing their loved ones and suffering isolation just like Yubel, but I think a key difference is that everything Yubel does no matter how twisted is a desperate attempt to reunite with Judai, to understand Judai and be understood by them. Whereas, Ai doesn't want to try anymore.

Ai: Back then I would have done anything to save my friends. Yusaku: There's nothing you could have done there was no other way. AI: I know that. [...] Yusaku: Ai, you have the power to change this. Yusaku: As a special ignis you have the power to live with humans. Find a way to backtrack from this. AI: You trying to pull me back? AI: Thank you Playmaker, but you don't understand. I learned when everyone was gone that when you lose friends your heart breaks. AI: My heart was broken back then and I lost all self control. Yusaku: If losing a friend makes your heart break then are you trying to break my heart?

Not only does Ai not want to understand, but they also deliberately ignore Yusaku's feelings and personal autonomy. Yusaku is a kidnapped child who had a lot of their life robbed from them and manipulated they hate anyone who disrespects their free will but Ai walks all over it and disregards all of Yusaku's opinions. They do the one thing Yusaku asks them not to do, because Ai incorrectly assumes they know best.

They also don't really understand Yusaku on a fundamental level and as I said, they don't want to make the effort to bridge the gap either.

It seems kind of silly saying which one is worse, because both Yubel and Ai violate Judai and Yusaku's personal autonomy multiple times. They both act selfish and entitled towards the person they love. They both also intentionally hurt that person and then turn back around and claim it's protecting them. They both act incredibly possessive and try to manipulate their partner into doing what they want.

They both have the gall afterwards to claim they're doing so out of selfless devotion, downplaying any feelings of selfishness on their end. Both consider Yusaku and Judai's other friends to be targets in order to get at their partners. Both will inflict pain on the person they love and are so devoted to in service of getting what they want.

The only real difference is motivation because as I said, as controlling as Yubel is it's out of a desire to reunite and be equals. They're both in too much pain to express their love in any kind of healthy way, but Yubel at least wants things to be better whereas Ai has just given up. The fact that Yubel's themed around sharing pain too also makes them and Judai equals, whereas Ai is trying to have power over Yusaku and take Yusaku's decisions away in order to force Yusaku to do what he assumes is best.

That might be the most important difference between them. Whereas Yubel wanted to live together with Judai, Ai wanted to force Yusaku to kill him in order to avert a potential future where Yusaku dies trying to protect Ai. It's a motivation that turns one story into a love story, and the other into a tragedy.

Judai and Yusaku: Hero vs Anti-Hero

Judai and Yusaku are two characters who could not look to be any more different at first glance. Though they're both themed around heroism Judai starts as the fun loving kid who admires heroes and is always dueling to save others when his friends are in a fix. Yusaku is the loner anti-hero who is on a revenge quest all alone against the Knights of Hanoi.

Yusaku starts out unwilling to make friends and refusing help from others. Judai on the other hand is constantly surrounded by people. Though both of them are forced into the role of always dueling to protect others and carrying the responsibilies of other people on their shoulder. Often times it's forced upon them unwillingly and they have to take on too much responsibility.

Judai forms unhealthy relationships with people that are based on him always needing to clean up their messes and those same friendships eventually unravel. Whereas Yusaku spends three seasons learning to form healthier relationships with people, and the climax of the first season is even Yusaku developing from dueling for revenge to dueling to save his very first friend in Kogami.

Judai loves dueling and even duels exclusively for the fun of it, often in the first two seasons protecting others and facing the villains as an afterthought. Yusaku on the other hand hates dueling because of the trauma he was forced to undergo as a child and despite being the strongest duelist simply views dueling as a means to an end.

Perhaps the most interesting way to compare them is their opposite journeys. They're both commentaries on heroism. They both eventually gain alter egos that are really just emphasizing different traits of their personalities. The Supreme King is the embodiment of Judai's selfishness and his fixation on always winning and dueling for power. Yusaku is a socially withdrawn kid, and Playmaker his internet identity is the way he fights back against his abusers. He's also a strong willed, determined and active where Yusaku is almost entierly passive. They're both ultimately the same guy though, Supreme King is a part of Judai, Playmaker is Yusaku with more freedom to be himself online.

However, Judai starts out as a straightforward hero and goes on to be a dark deconstruction of the pure hearted hero. All of Judai's flaws that go unaddressed because people constantly put him on a pedestal eventually lead to his ruin. The pressure Judai is always under to win turns into an obsession with power.

Judai: Why? What did I do that was so wrong? I… I did the right thing! And yet… everyone keeps leaving me! What… What is wrong with me? Supreme King: Yuki Judai. To be willing to be evil to defeat evil. This world exemplfiies survival of the fittest. It must be ruled with power. Judai: Power? I don’t have that much power… Supreme King: You hold the Super Polymerization card in your hand. Defeat the spirits that stand against you. Breathe their lives into it and complete that card.

Judai also exists in a narrative that won't allow him to be a hero. GX deconstructs all kinds of heroism and self-sacrifice. Edo Phoenix's quest for revenge is called out as him being childish, and unwilling to grow up from the trauma he suffered as a child. Johan is the most straightforward hero, but his decision to sacrifice himself to protect Judai and everyone else is what starts Judai's breakdown. When Jim duels against the supreme king he declares he's not sacrificing him to save the world but rather trying to help a friend.

Judai's eventual character growth in choosing to fuse with Yubel isn't a sacrifice, but rather Judai finally growing up and taking responsibility for the way he hurt Yubel.

Yusaku on the other hand is on the journey from going from an anti-hero who fights for himself and his own personal revenge to becoming a more straightforward hero. I wouldn't say Yusaku's arc is more shallow in comparison just because it's not a dark deconstruction, rather it's exploring a different topic the responsibilities of being a hero.

His greatest moment of character growth in the first season is going from caring only about revenge, to dueling the pesron who saved him as a child because he wants to save his very first friend.

You could say Yusaku because he's not allowed to crumble is actually under more pressure than Judai is. He's almost forced into the role of a hero and not allowed to be selfish, while Judai from start to finish is a selfish character even if he grows up quite a bit over the course of the story.

Yusaku is also someone who from start to finish follows his own sense of unbending justice. Where, Judai doesn't have any consistent moral code. He's defined in the first two seasons of only dueling for the fun of it, and by Season 3 he's deeply troubled that he doesn't have a reason to duel like Johan does.

Following his own justice is actually deeply important to Yusaku, probably what he values the most actually. Since his life was thrown off by the Lost Incident he starts out deeply untrusting of others and even when he grows past that he hates people who try to influence him and insist they know what's best for him. It's what led him to not only be deeply offended by Zaizen telling Yusaku to back down and let him handle it, but also him refusing Zaizen's help.

This quality of Yusaku's also dovetails into my next point where we finally get to comparing the two duels.

A LOVE STORY vs. A TRAGEDY

The setup for the duel is identical in both cases. Yubel and Ai have eliminated almost all of Judai and Yusaku's friends and now they are on the endgame of their plans. Yusaku and Judai are both dueling against their former partners to stop them, and both partners refuse any attempts to work things out any other way and force a fight.

However, the motivations of each member going into these duels are so opposite that it makes a neat little foiling square.

Starting with Yubel their motivation for getting into the duel is simultaneously a desire to reunite and express their love for Judai, and a thinly veiled cry for help.

Judai: If you hated how I treated you, then you should have gotten revenge on me. Yubel: Hate? Revenge? What are you talking about? Didn't I tell you? I went to this trouble hoping it would make you happy, Judai. Judai: Make me happy? After my friends suffered by getting hurt and killed. Yubel: But that's love isn't it? Yubel: I wanted to torment you to share the depths of my love.

Yubel's plan is to both awaken Judai's memories of the supreme king by engineering his downfall, and also after taking his friends away one by one to fuse the dimmensions together so Judai and Yubel can be together forever with Yubel by his side protecting him. As Yubel defines their entire existence and worth by being Judai's protector and doesn't understand why Judai would ever reject their protection or need friends other than them.

Yubel: My every waking moment was for you. Yubel: I even got rid of everyone around you who tried to make you cry. Judai: Yubel. By doing that you hurt the friends I had around me. Judai: None of my close firends even wanted to duel with me. Yubel: You had me as a close friend, didn't you? All you had to do was focus only on me.

Yubel frames their actions as selfless while also acting out an entitlement that they're owed Judai's love for all of their devotion to him. They're also willing to hurt his closest friends, isolate him, and basically throw tantrums in order to get it.

When they come to the slow realization that Judai won't return their feelings, it leads to them breaking down slowly over the course of the duel. All of the lies they told themselves about the love between them and Judai slowly starts to unravel along with their mind.

The duel beings with Yubel actively enjoying all the pain Judai is inflicting upon them. When Judai activates the supreme king though, and starts dueling seriously to eliminate Yubel, it chips through Yubel's delusions and Yubel is no longer able to keep pretending that pain is love.

I couldn’t have lived with the heartache unless I felt that I was being loved…

Moving on to Ai, the primary difference between Yubel and Ai's motivation is that Yubel's plans are a thinly veiled cry for help while Ai refuses to accept any help.

Yusaku: Find a way to backtrack, Ai! Ai: I can't. Ai: Sorry, but there's no backtracking. Ai: Let's go, Playmaker!

Their desires are opposite too. Yubel's plan is to continue living with Judai, and Ai's plan amounts to forcing Yusaku to kill them.

Ai: If this attack gets through I lose. AI: Well, make up your mind already. AI: You came to get them back, right? AI: You're everyone's hope so you have to do it, even if I'm the opponent.

Yubel and Ai are both incredibly manipulative characters, and Ai in particular is holding all of Yusaku's friends hostage in order to make him do something he does not want to do and will hurt him beyond repair. He's also inflicting the same trauma the loss of all of his friends and the loss of an important friend the same way that Yubel wishes to make Judai suffer the same way they did by isolating them from all of their friends and pushing them off the edge to bring out their darkest emotions.

However, once again Yubel's manipulations are done with the intent of getting Judai to understand them whereas Ai no longer wants to try understanding Yusaku and presumes he knows best.

Ai: Back then I had to do whatever it takes to save my friends. Yusaku: There's nothing you could have done to save them. Ai: I know there wasn't. Yusaku: Ai, that simulation was lightning's trap. He knew if you saw it while in despair your heart would fall into darkness. So don't worry about it. Ai: I considered that possibility. Because he left it after he fought us. AI: So I redid my own simulation and ran it over and over. But the result wouldn't change.

Ai also chooses to trust simulations and the words of his enemy Lightning over the words of his own partner and the urging of Yusaku that they can try to take a third way out together. His basic inability to trust is what damns him, relying on controlling manipulation instead to coerce and eventually force Yusaku to do what he wants and what he has decided is best.

It shows in his plan to, Ai's conditions for the duel is that he'll either copy himself and spread the copies into all of the mass manufactured robots or Yusaku will have to stop him with his own hands at which point Ai's programming is terminated. Either way Ai dies. The only real way for Yusaku to save Ai is to convince him to stop the duel which Ai won't do.

Ai: Oh I didn't tell you. When my copies are created, as the final trigger my free will will be divided and given to them. Yusaku: What will happen to you? AI: My free will will be broken apart. AI: I'll be no more. If you win you'll retrieve everything I took and I'll be no more. Either way, I'll be no more. Yusaku: Ai, you're making me choose how you die?

He's stripped away all of Yusaku's choices. Yubel is stripping away Judai's choices to but once again it's out of a desire to be together with Judai while Ai is doing the opposite forcing Yusaku to be an enemy and end him with his own two hands.

Moving onto the process of the duel itself, the duel begins with both Yusaku and Judai trying to talk their partners down from dueling and finding some other way to settle this.

They fail but for opposite reasons. Judai because his pleas with Yubel are half hearted and done more in the spirit of lip-service. Judai fails because Yubel sees through his half hearted attempts. In their previous duel Yubel calls out the fact that Judai went to the ends of the earth to save Johan, but after subjecting Yubel to years of torture barely lifted a finger to reach out to them.

While Yusaku genuinely shows a desire to solve things with Ai with anything other than dueling, but Ai is the reason they have to fight. Ai is the one who forces Yusaku's hand. While Judai does not understand Yubel and does not empathize, Ai is the one who fails to understand Yusaku and how much pain forcing this conflict on him causes Yusaku. He also doesn't want to understand, while Yubel is at least self-aware of the fact that they are intentionally hurting Judai.

Yusaku's sincerity can be seen in how much he refuses to victim blame Ai, starting right away and continuing through the duel. Repeatedly over and over again Yusaku tries to reassure Ai that the guilt he's experiencing isn't his fault. Whereas, Judai victim blames Yubel continually. Yusaku is a character who values responsibility above all else, while Judai is avoiding personal responsibiltiy even though they're the ones who put Yubel in a situation where they were tortured.

Ai: As you know I got rid of my friends and ended up alone. There were only six of us but we foolishly hated each other. Yusaku: AI that's not your fault. AI: I know but it doesn't matter who's fault it is. I'm earth's last surviving human. And that fact won't change. Playmaker I sort of understand how you felt. Being alone is very painful. Yusaku: [...] I understand your sadness but don't let this fate sweep you away.

Whereas, Judai quickly resorts to victim blaming Yubel pretty quickly.

I made a lot of friends… And they all taught me something… real love is wide enough, large enough and deep enough to fill the universe. Your so-called love is only a conceited delusion.

There's also a distinct difference in both Yusaku and Judai's behavior throughout the duel. Most of the time it's Yubel iniating conversation with Judai because as I said by the time their second duel has started Judai has given up on understanding Yubel and dismisses them as crazy and beyond comprehension. Whereas Yusaku is the one who initiates most of the conversation with Ai.

Moving onto the duel part of duel it's interesting to note how different Yubel and Ai's dueling styles are. Yubel dominates almost any duel they're in. They toy with the likes of Ryo and Amon. Even when Judai duels them to a draw, the duel went exactly as Yubel planned because their true objective was to snatch away super polymerization from Judai's graveyard.

Yubel's boss monster is also unbeatable. It never takes damage, in fact most of the cards in Yubel's various decks don't take damage. Their ace monster for the sacred beast deck is a card that inflicts 10,000 damage once a turn. Advanced Darkness crystal beasts allows them to negate all damage done by sending a card to the graveyard. Even when judai manages to get Yubel off the field it simply upgrades into a stronger form.

Ai on the other hand duels on the ropes and duels very defensively, Yusaku at several points is about to go for game and end the duel in one hit and Ai only manages to barely avoid ending the duel early with a trap card or the like.

Yubel's main strategy is to prolong the duel until Judai is forced to pick Super Polymerization with spell chronicle. They want Judai to choose them and choose staying together with them by spell chronicle. Whereas at multiple points Ai continues to encourage Yusaku to crush them with everything they have.

Once again, one wants empathy, the other disregards Yusaku's will.

Yubel: My suffering becomes your suffering. Yubel: Such empathy... Yubel: Nightmare pain. It has us wrapped in the same anguish, and the same love.

Ai is forcing Yusaku's hand because once again, no matter the result Yusaku kills Ai. On the other hand, Yubel grows increasingly disturbed by Judai's lack of mercy.

Yubel: Oh my, you shouldn't be so heartless my dear judai. Judai: We can't protect what matters to us just by being kind. I'm prepared to fight for the friends I love to the end even if it becomes becoming a demon or the devil.

Judai also quickly abandons heroism for the power of the supreme king, whereas Ai practically forces Yusaku to choose being a hero and saving his friends. Judai prioritizes Johan and then the rest of his friends over Yubel, Yusaku doesn't want to choose and a horrible choice is forced upon him.

Yubel for their part is aware of Judai's hypocrisy, once again they demonstrate a deep understanding of Judai. Whereas, Ai doesn't understand Yusaku one bit, while at the same time claiming to know better.

AI: When it comes to memory and calculations we're far superior to humans. We can figure out humans' faults and contradictions. AI: That's why it's easy to become arrogant. With Ai's with free will it's in their nature. AI: Something awakened within me. They're not evil thoughts. But I wonder, in order for me to live why do I have to adapt to humans. AI: I feel differently from humans.

Ai continually urges Yusaku to choose his friends over him. He forces the choice where there should be done. On the other hand Yubel wants to be chosen over Judai's friends. Out of a sense of entitlement but also a fear of being abandoned again.

Yubel: The camraderie of yours with the neo-spacians will be of no use to you. And my love alone is much stronger. Yet even so you're saying that you'll choose friendships with the neo-spacians over my love. [...] Yubel: Judai so you want to drive me away at any cost. Do you and the neo-spacians find my love to be such a hindrance.

Once again, Ai remarks frequently that the loss of their friends made them give up all hope on continuing. Yubel on the other hand is capable of enduring almost anything. They're defined by their endurance and determination to hold on. When they burn up on re-entry they slowly piece themselves back together. When they're disintegrated after Johan's sacrifice, they take Johan's body and then slowly restore themselves once more. Judai duels them to a draw, that's yubel's plan all along and they take super poly. Judai destroys their boss monster, they just summon another one.

Ai on the other hand fundamentally believes free will in Ai's will lead to conflict and that future is inescapable, so they force Yusaku's hand in ending their existence.

AI: You said humans don't want sudden changes. AI: But I can't help my own changes. I may become someone like Bohman or Lightning so I want to vanish before that happens.

Ai has already reached their breaking point, whereas Yubel is slowly driven to their breaking point by Judai's lack of empathy throughout the duel. Yubel similiarly becomes suicidal like AI, but only after Judai continually insists that they're only dueling to destroy Yubel. Once again, while Ai's plan is to self-terminate for Yusaku's "sake" choosing to die while Judai lives on without them is something Yubel would never do.

At least, they might take a bullet for Judai, but they don't want to be alone and abandoned while Judai goes back to live on happily with all his other friends. Yubel wants to be chosen, Ai wants Yusaku to choose his friends. In fact, it's the idea that Yusaku wouldn't abandon him even if the war against Ai and Humans did happen that drives Ai's decision to die rather than let that happen.

AI: When I lived in the simulation I saw it. What my existence will lead to. You get dragged into it and perish. I can't choose that future.

Once again though, it's a decision Ai makes out of an inability to trust Yusaku. Also, if Yusaku wants to stay by Ai's side in spite of the danger it poses to him, that's Yusaku's choice. Ai may perceive himself as protecting Yusaku, but he's also disrespecting his autonomy.

It's also driven by a lack of understanding of what love and trust are. That's not entirely Ai's fault, he is in fact a newborn who recently lost every single one of his friends due to the conflict between humans and AI. It makes sense he'd have trouble trusting humans even the one that's been by his side all this time.

Whereas, Yubel wants Judai's understanding and breaks down when Judai continually denies it to them.

Yubel: Do you hate me that much? Yubel: I thought of this twelve-dimmension universe as a space for us together... so I tried to fill the universe with my love. But if you're calling on your friends and going to such lengths to get rid of me I no longer need to fill this universe with love. No, I no longer need this world. Let me put an end to this universe, to the void as well, and to our time together. Yubel: It was fun Judai, even those who helped lure you to me had dark, dark hearts. I feasted upon their hearts and waited for the reunion with you, my beloved. Yubel: I even invited you to that first dimmension. Well, I enjoyed that duel as well. Until he interfered. But I suppose you just weren't ready to accept my love back then. Yubel: I mean, the darkness in your heart, the supreme king was lying dormant. Yubel: Though I did have your friends help me. Which pulled out the darkness in your heart and ushered you this far. Yubel: I didn't think you were so hardheaded. You're the one at fault. If you can't grasp my love I don't need you. Or this universe. You can all just vanish into dust.

Judai needs to accept responsibility for both what he did to Yubel, and his own actions for the supreme king and how both him and Yubel can be pushed to do terrible things when they're alone and in pain. Part of the motivation for Judai's demonization of Yubel is he wants to keep playing the hero because the guilt of everything he did as the supreme king is crushing him and making him borderline suicidal.

On the other hand Ai is the one who's given up on trying to understand others. Yusaku is doing the best he can to both balance his feelings for Ai and desire to save him against his responsibility to save his other friends but he can't really be held personally responsible for Ai's actions. Whereas Judai on some level is responsible for Yubel's actions since he created the situation in the first place and continually chooses to abandon Yubel instead of trying to reach out to them.

Yubel is right to an extent that this situation is his fault and he never made any attempts to save them. Whereas, Ai is being manipulative when he forces Yusaku to make the choice to kill him putting all the responsibility on Yusaku's shoulders.

Which is why when the duels end in completely opposite fashions. Judai's way of taking responsibility is to fuse together with Yubel, whereas Yusaku refuses to fuse with Ai.

In Yusaku's case the refusal to fuse isn't turning down Ai's proposed third option, or a peaceful solution to the duel. After all, if Ai called off the duel right there Yusaku would accept it and work to forgive Ai for what he did to his friends. Even if they continue on as individuals it's not like Yusaku would leave Ai's side. In fact his reason for refusing Ai's offer to fuse is that he wants them to remain together as two individuals.

Fusion means two entirely different things in this context. Judai acknowledges there's a risk he may no longer exist after fusing with Yubel but like, they keep going on as two seperate individuals and consciousnesses even when they share the same body. Whereas in Ai's case, fusing with Yusaku would destroy both of them and give birth to a completely new being. Ai is using fusion as yet another method of self destruction, because he doesn't want to change himself and doesn't believe in the capacity to change himself.

Yusaku: Even if we become one, that's not the solution you're seeking. We only have one life. One consciousness. Yusaku: If I fuse, I won't be me and you won't be you.

Ai makes his choice out of his inability to face the future. He wants to self terminate, either by distributing his free will among copies or fusing with Yusaku to become someone else because he doesn't trust in his ability to grow and change. In fact he's avoiding having to change and grow up.

Yusaku: So living is a series of bonds! That's what life is. AI: So I have to do that forever? Yusaku: Yes. AI: That's a lot of work. And you can't do that unless you're strong. Yusaku: That's why people become stronger. And that occasionally leads to conflicts. But even if that happens we have to keep fighting. Keep searching for bonds even if there's no solution. AI: I was thinking too logically like an AI. Yusaku: You can't rush living. AI: But I don't want to keep fighting if there's no solution. Since I've lost the desire to fight I'll just vanish.

You could say that Yusaku's unbending nature and his responsibity as a hero made it so he couldn't fuse with Ai or throw the duel but like, there's only so much Yusaku could have done. He didn't give up trying to convince Ai at any point and it's not fair to put Ai's refusal to give up on their suicide plan on Yusaku.

It's also Ai's decision to activate TA.I. that made them lose the duel, so in the end Ai did self terminate. Even in the Yuma vs. Shark duel where Yuma is a character who will never sacrifice anyone even if the whole world is at stake, and kept throwing the duel and prolonging it to try to convince Shark, Yuma was unable to reach him in time. In both cases it's also Shark's decision to go all out for a final attack, and Yuma's decision to negate his own attack and not attack in the hopes fo reaching Shark that loses Shark the duel.

On the other hand, Judai's decision to fuse is him finally taking responsibility. Ai gave up on trying to change the future and himself whereas Judai's decision to fuse is him growing up from a child to an adult.

I also want to state I don't want to victim blame Ai for being suicidal, and not having the strength to go on. Not everyone does in that kind of situation, it's perfectly human (even though he's a robot).

Ai's story is also meant to be a tragedy. In tragedies characters succumb to their flaws instead of overcoming them. GX and VRAINS' third season are two entirely different genres of story, one is a love story where two traumatized people finally reunite and heal and Vrains is a tragedy where Yusaku can't save Ai.

Even then Vrains doesn't state that Ai doesn't deserve salvation, even if he chose to refuse help and didn't want to be saved. Yusaku's very last actions in the series are diving into the net to search for some remnant of Ai and it's implied after months of searching he's not stopping anytime soon. Even if Ai gave up on himself, Yusaku hasn't given up on Ai.

That's another thing even if Yusaku refused fusion with Ai, he still would have stayed by Ai's side. Ai literally simulated a thousand futures and Yusaku in every one of them stayed by Ai's side even if it led to his death. Yusaku still wishes to be with Ai and searches the net for Ai in the end of Vrains. He calls Ai the best partner even when Ai's in the process of breaking his heart.

So while both of these duels have very different endings, I'd say they both still advocate for forgiveness and love. Both duels are true to the message of YGO! that bonds are the most important thing and what give our life meaning - which I think is beautiful. People cannot live on their own and make bad choices when they're alone, but in the end it's bonds that save us.

"If there's no absolutes then what's left?"

"Bonds. Bonds between individuals. Bonds between one another. That's all there is. That also changes with time. A huge trigger can cause a huge change. Bonds may be severed but new bonds can also be formed. So living is a series of bonds. That's what life is."

Also as a final note on this post I'd like to thank @talaofthevalley their takes on Yusaku are all great and talking about Vrains meta with them really helped writing a lot of this post.

[acerikus]

G o d. All gekkos' outertale posting makes me wanna talk more in depth about the characterisation and plot issues in this game and why they bother me...

(readmore bc holy fuck this got long, it's probably like 5k words. It's also pretty much all salt, categorised by character)

Toriel

Why. Why is she like this. Kinda feels like the creator of the game hates her and if they don't, they have a weird way of showing it. She's treated as overdramatic and unjustified in her anger at asgore despite the fact that he DID declare war on humanity and he DID willingly let the people believe he was killing human children to harvest their souls. Even if he didn't do it for real in this game, she has every right to be angry and to not trust him, and it CERTAINLY doesn't make her undeserving to be a mother or whatever. Idk about you, but I don't think wanting kids to stay away from a man yelling about wanting to kill every child that crosses him makes you a bad parent, even if it turns out he didn't really hurt anyone y'know?

They also REALLY zoned in on 'mother' with her in a way that doesn't really make sense here. I could maybe see her feeling guilty for making a snap judgement but how would that call her motherhood into question?

Sans saying isolation messed with her makes no sense too!!!! The outerlands or whatever they called the ruins isn't sealed off in this game, other monsters seem way less intimidated by her in this game than in undertale (she has friends! She knows sans by name and goes to napstablook's shows and even has their phone number!), and we outright get told she takes the taxi to get her groceries... Meaning she headed off to the rest of the outpost and probably does that often enough.

All things considered, Toriel seems fairly well adjusted in outertale, at least by outertale standards. Kinda then makes it feel like everyone's just trying to convince her she's hysterical and that... Sucks.

Also the fact that they added an ending where you stay with her and framed it as a bad ending that doomed everyone is... Really mean? It sucked ass I'm sorry :/

Sans

... Why is he like this. This take on Sans is absolutely infuriating tbh. The only positive I really have here is that his puns are kinda good, I've seen fangames that fuck up this element massively and it was kinda fun to see his interactions in starton.

Okay, back to salt. His whole 'i became a sentry to help humans' thing is trash. He didn't care about that in ut! He didn't care about that at all! The only reason he looks out for frisk is because he made a promise to toriel, and he hates breaking promises. He didn't want to let down his friend.

...Huh. realising this is yet another case of Toriel disrespect somehow. Yet another thing they took from her, that they then just... Handed over to sans instead. :/

His lack of backstory. Look, I get wanting something silly, but they took almost everything that makes sans interesting away. Not hyperfocusing on sans like certain aus do is nice, but it feels like in a lot of situations in this game they overcompensated by a long shot.

No mysterious past/origins. We know he worked with alphys I guess but???? Honestly I have a LOT to rant about for that part so I'll leave it for twinkly's section. And yet despite all this, Sans inexplicably bleeds in tpe when not even undertale has that happen? Make up your mind!

His role in non Asriel chaotic also... Sucks ass. I'm in a pretty awesome corner of the fandom in terms of the people I follow and the takes I see as a result, so if I'm honest, when I saw all those posts about 2024 fanon sans being indifferent to his brother's murder, I kinda just figured they were vaguing about this game. You're telling me that sans of all people just shrugs off you killing everyone and complains a little bit before letting you pass?! He should know alphys already ran off. He should know the only person left to stop you is asgore, and that it's obvious he won't. Part of this could be connected to how frisk is written perhaps, and much like the twinkly situation, I'll have much more to say on that further down.

I understand the creator didn't wanna have a sans fight in their game - however, if that's the case... Maybe come up with a reason for him to NOT show up in the last corridor, then? Have him busy helping with evacuations or something, or already dead like in the first chaotic ending... This was just sloppy.

Papyrus

Honestly he wasn't... Terrible. The phonecalls were fun even if most were cheap references (though they can be fun in fangames sometimes so I'm not mad at this lol). Him being extremely talented at making spaghetti is just one symptom of one of this game's biggest flaws, however. I really don't like how nobody's really allowed to be bad at anything or have any real struggles in this game - especially when spaghetti in undertale is used to demonstrate his relationship with undyne and the similar wavelength they're on when humans aren't involved. She's the one who started teaching him to cook it, it's deeply intertwined with his desire to be a royal guard, and it's something they suck at together. Him just inexplicably being good at it is... Weird, and feels really disconnected from their friendship and her reluctance to let him in the guard yknow?

Also: his boss final phase. Having the dog NOT take his special attack away this time was really funny admittedly but... Idk? Not only is the fight really unfair for pacifist/neutral and those who aren't as good at the game (ut never gets this hard outside of geno), it feels way too on the nose in terms of insisting he's strong and has powerful attacks. Undertale didn't need to overcompensate to get across that papyrus is strong and disciplined and the way you have to infer that in undertale is way cooler. I might just be nitpicking with this point tbh but it's whatever. Letting myself be a hater for once.

And don't get me started on him getting together with Mettaton. It seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere, the idea that they were already friends in this was glossed over really quickly and no time was really put into developing the relationship save for papyrus commenting on finding him attractive every few minutes.

Gotta be honest, I've never been a fan of this ship nor understood its popularity. Papyrus very briefly mentions thinking he's attractive in undertale, but it doesn't really go anywhere and I'm not even sure mettaton knows he exists. It feels like it was just kinda added because it's a popular ship and that's it, not sure it really contributes much to either of their arcs. It was a light-hearted celebrity crush in canon and never really tried to be more.

Oh, oops. Had more to say here than I thought.

Undyne

Not much to say here... I think she was okay, there's nothing super bad with her. I do think the way gerson kinda downplays her/lacks faith in her in the chaotic route kinda sucks and I think choosing to make her non-undying chaotic bossfight harder sure was A Choice, but it's whatever. Undying was weirdly easy in a way that didn't do her much justice. Honestly they didn't do enough with her for me to have a wall of complaints and I can't tell if that's a good thing or not. Her relationship with alphys didn't really amount to much and her lack of understanding of human culture doesn't really hit as hard when she's just talking about random sci-fi things that we have no way of knowing are real or not in this game's idea of the 2600s ourselves, y'know? Her love of anime (that she mistakenly thinks is human history) is pretty absent here except to validate her relationship with alphys in a very shallow way.

The Ghost Family

Hoo boy... Was gonna make this the mettaton section, but I wanted to talk about napstablook at the same time, so I'm just gonna lump them all together.

What. What the hell was this plotline.

It feels like they tried to go for 'smalltime farmer chases passion for stardom after feeling unfulfilled at home' and as I've seen someone else say, 'shy business owner struggles to talk to their cousin outside of work'. This would've been fine tbh, but... There's a lot of things in the execution of this that kinda grossed me out if I'm honest. I don't think they were intentional, but I think it could've been thought through a lot better to avoid some unfortunate implications - or even lean into them in a respectful way.

Firstly, the ghost family intervention was pretty long, awkward, and didn't feel like it really added much - especially when most people playing would already know mettaton's backstory anyway (and his house is still accessible like in undertale!!!!! What was the point?)

Mettaton airing out his family issues on live TV feels very ooc - he keeps that stuff very close to his chest and I doubt he'd like it getting out. Him entertaining any of that out in the open seems... Weird.

Speaking of the intervention, his cousins' treatment of him was horrifying! Part of it seems intentional and it's nice that there's at least one part in the game where characters are allowed to have flaws and do bad things but... There's also elements that feel like you're meant to agree with them? Their insistence that mettaton just come home and everything they did in the past with constantly badgering him to come and help out on the farm were rightfully treated as something that hurt mettaton's feelings and that gave napstablook and the others pause. That's (mostly, we'll come back to it later) fine. He called them out for it and they reflected on it, cool. The way his ghost form was utilised makes me extremely uncomfortable, however.

Napstablook talks about hearing 'the real [mettaton]' in the recording, right to his face, 'the real mettaton' in this scenario alluding to his ghost form. Considering mettaton is a trans allegory, this feels... Kinda gross? In a similar vein, when passing mettaton's quiz barriers, one of the questions is 'what is mettaton's true identity' and you have the option to deadname him (using a name papyrus literally just made up in undertale rather than having any kind of creativity ofc) Alphys' reaction is simply to ask how you know that which... Doesn't feel great. The correct answer is 'mettaton' ofc thankfully, but everything around this particular plot point feels weird. Maybe don't do that w the most prevalent trans allegory character..?

And ofc, they keep insisting he just come home, go back to working on the farm, go back to his family... Idk, gives me vibes of someone abandoning their shitty transphobic family and then insisting they want to see 'the real [deadname] again' and for them to abandon their new life and just go back to the way things were before. Not good.

All of this would still be okay for the most part since the ghost family are painted as being unfair to mettaton... But in true pacifist, he goes back to helping out with the farm anyway and talks about how he thinks he was probably just being dramatic after all, and how 'blooky didn't do anything that bad'

... What?

It takes me right back to Toriel's treatment. Napstablook, Maddie and lurksalot gave no real thought to mettaton's feelings, made it all about them and showed pretty much no support for his transition nor his career! Fuck those guys! It's funny - mettaton is pretty consistently a pompous asshole (affectionate) in undertale but here, I think all his feelings towards his family were COMPLETELY valid. Mettaton outertale didn't do anything wrong.

Lurksalot didn't feel like they contributed much to the story either, save to be yet another character treating mettaton like shit with zero consequences nor narrative judgement. They just made every ghost family event even more drawn out.

And then ofc!!!! Mettaton and Alphys' friendship is so bland in this game! They're two people who kinda know each other and she says some nice things about him in a letter in chaotic but that's about it. Their friendship and the subsequent conflict frisk's arrival brings to it in undertale is the heart of hotland and the core, but here it's just replaced with unnecessary, hard to watch, boring family drama. The two of them have no issues to work out. She doesn't ask too much of him. There's no funny quips and barely any chemistry at all. God forbid either of them have any real flaws.

One last thing: I'm glad maddie gets her mew mew body, it's nice. Wish it was an on-screen moment or something alluded to more though. Some of that time dragging out the family drama could've been used on that instead, y'know? Especially with napstablook getting the mew mew doll... Genuinely thought they were gonna show it to her when they first got hold of it, rather than dragging Frisk into their intervention. She should've gotten to be more mad, too. Kinda a big part of her identity.

Oh, and mettaton's no-asriel chaotic fight was bullshit. It was a nice spamton reference and the first phase was cool, but the second was utter bullshit and dragged out the fight way too long. Attacking him after snapping all the wires should've killed him im sorry. It's even more of a shame bc I genuinely really liked this game's mettaton neo fight - it was fun and creative and felt possible.

Holding myself back from adding any more to this bc I could go on and on, ugh.

Alphys

Alphys. For a game that tries to make her the star of it, it's actually kinda impressive how much they managed to take away from her and just how uninteresting she is in this game.

At the surface level she's awesome, powerful, and the star of the show. In my first playthrough I was actually pretty happy to see her thriving like this! The more routes I played and the more I thought about it though they just kinda... Declawed her. Took away all her flaws. Made her 'perfect' in a way that I don't think works at all.

The amalgamates never happened. None of her experiments went wrong. She never hid away from her mistakes, or lied to anyone (save for keeping Asgore's secret, which she has no negative feelings about), nor did she over engineer any situations to make herself seem cooler. She doesn't argue with Mettaton! She's confident and assertive! She's Asgore's right hand woman and next in line for the throne! And ofc, the badass final boss! What's not to love?

...But none of this is Alphys, is it?

Her anxiety isnt just because of the determination experiments, it's pretty clear she's always been a pretty shy and nervous person. In fact, based on her entries they were one of the things she was more confident in before it all went wrong. People are hard, but she knows science, y'know?

She doesn't get to be flawed or interesting - despite her presence, she's just a generic cool scientist who's suave with the ladies, I guess..?

She isn't particularly dorky, shes overly confident, she has zero issues to work through. Her relationship with undyne is perfect (derogatory) and her infodumping about anime just before the archive feels very forced, like they remembered last minute that she does that and thought it should be included somehow.

Depicting what she'd be like in a scenario where the determination experiments never happened is a fun and interesting idea! But deltarune demonstrates how to do that well, and I think they completely missed the mark. The way she talks, her body language, the way she acts around others in general... These things are universal constants and yet in outertale, she's basically a different person entirely.

Outertale alphys isn't allowed to lie (save to cover for asgore Secretly Being A Good Person), she isn't allowed to miscalculate, she isn't allowed to mis-speak or make mistakes or do anything she'd regret. She feels like an alphys written by someone who hates her in canon and thinks all her flaws make her terrible and unlikable. I doubt this is the case since I don't think a person like that would've given her such prevalence, but that's the level of love and attention I feel was given to her writing here. It makes me sad.

And, of course... The DT experiments and her fight.

... Why did she have vials of determination if all the humans are alive? Did she take it from them? If so, was this before or after they went into stasis? We know she's not been the royal scientist for long in relation to how long humans have been falling, so did ROMAN take the determination? How much of this did she even DO?

Why did she and sans even DO anything with determination? It... Doesn't really make sense.

Speaking of determination, why did she melt at the end of her fight? I'd assume she's injected herself with determination as one of the vials in her lab is mentioned to be partially used, but I'm pretty sure it's also like this on pacifist. Was that overlooked? Are we just meant to assume it's MORE depleted? Does she just have natural determination now because She's So Cool And Badass? This isn't even really a complaint about the fight, more just how poorly that part of her lab is handled lmao

But getting into her fight... Idk, it didn't really feel like her. A lot of it was just random bullshit that was hard for the sake of being hard, that didn't really seem to be tied to her identity very well at all. People complain a lot about the Zenith Martlet fight in undertale yellow but that's done far better than this, imo. It clearly reflects martlet's character, personality and canonical bullet patterns (we see Alphys' in ut tpe!), there's a genuine feeling of progression in the fight and the act you're given to help with the fight feels more effective - you can still damage her on her turn, so taking a turn to heal act doesn't feel like a waste. The Asriel acts though... They just don't last long enough to feel that worth it? Sure they're okay, but in general, you get a lot less time to breathe. Martlet's fight lets you retry from phase 2 if you die. Sans' in undertale gives you as many turns as you need to heal while he's sparing you. Alphys' fight just feels like it's made to feel un-fun and painful throughout in a way that just isn't worth it, and doesn't really feel like it fits her personality either, y'know? The fight was just a slog and like many others, I had zero motivation to finish it legit. I don't think it helps that the undyne and mettaton fights in this route are fairly easy and simple in comparison.

Tldr: they took away everything that makes alphys endearing, fun and interesting. This isn't alphys at all.

Asgore

A huge chunk of this essay accidentally got deleted, including my first attempt at writing this section. In it, I mentioned that the Asgore apologism went way too far.

This time though, I don't think I'd even call it that. Reflecting on it, it feels less like an attempt to defend him and more like a way to hate on and spite Toriel.

Seriously. So much of his character basically just feels like someone going 'fuck you toriel. I'm giving EVERYTHING to asgore.'

It's... Really weird?

Asgore having a way out of killing humans is an interesting concept! Outertale takes place 500 years in the future compared to undertale, so the idea that they have the resources and technology to do that is kinda cool and in theory, exploring this idea sounds really fun. In practice though, it feels like it was mostly done to make Toriel out to be an asshole for no reason and to laugh at her for ever assuming he would've really killed anyone (despite... Y'know. Telling everyone that's what he was doing.)

He just. Completely moved on from Toriel without a second thought seemingly, and doesn't even look that affected by seeing her turn up again - meanwhile SHE'S got crumpled up tea recipes in the trash and all the Sad Divorced Energy - it doesn't really fit either of them! Toriel wasn't really given a reason to miss him like that, and I think even if he DID fully move on, he'd be way happier to see her than that.

All his leading statements on how she must feel in LV1 pacifist sucked ass also, especially with the way she kinda just agreed that yeah, she feels like shit for not trusting that he'd suddenly do a 180 and not hurt anyone (AGAIN. AFTER HE CONTINUED TO LET EVERYONE BELIEVE THIS) and that she must feel unworthy of being a mother. She hadn't even said half of this in front of him yet! He put words in her mouth! That in itself would be fine (social blunders are pretty normal for asgore after all) but it... Wasn't treated like that. It was handled as if this was a sweet and compassionate thing for him to say which... Yikes.

And ofc he gets to adopt frisk, and monster kid, and get to have Asriel live with him! His fatherhood is never called to question in undertale, but ofc Toriel's motherhood has to be here. Hell, despite their divorced status, if you talk to gerson in tpe it's highly implied frisk asks if asgore would start aging again if he became their dad! Idk, all of this part just reeked of Toriel hate and nothing more. Asgore is just yet another character to get sanded down and de-clawed and it sucks. So much of what makes him interesting is his mistakes and flaws and how they impact him, y'know?

Twinkly

I wanna start this by saying I don't think his writing is too bad. It's not amazing by any means but by outertale standards, he's one of the better written characters. That being said, Flowey is my favourite character of all time so I'm still gonna be critical.

So they did save the goat. Save the goat aus really aren't my thing nowadays - I feel like so often people act like he's a separate person to Flowey entirely and act like the alarm clock app dialogue doesn't exist. Asriel didn't end the story as a doomed tragedy fated to fade away! Flowey ended the story as someone who finally got closure on the loss of his best friend, and can finally learn to move on, even if it takes him a while to adjust. I don't think he needs to be a goat again for that.

That being said, I know these kinda aus are a big wish fulfilment thing for a lot of the fandom that aren't even necessarily something people want to be canon as much as they just wanna explore the idea and see him truly happy, so I won't judge that element too harshly. People are allowed to have fun, and I think save the goat can be fine if it respects him as flowey rather than separating them.

I really like that they allow Asriel to be fucked up and an asshole rather than him soft rebooting into some Sweet Perfect Little Prince once he returns to his old form, like so many other save the goat takes. Even in lv0's ending he struggles to bite back insults and mean comments aimed at Monster Kid which is... Admittedly kinda refreshing! There's definitely some flowey (or I guess in this case, twinkly) behaviour that still comes through here and I'm glad. This carried over to chaotic, too. While his characterisation wasn't perfect, this at least felt like twinkly obtaining a few form and continuing to play with the world, rather than your standard Asriel take. I also really liked that he remembers and acknowledges chaotic if done before pacifist, that was neat and adds to his character (as far as this game goes) I think.

However, onto the biggest, glaring issue I have with him.

Why. Why does he exist.

No, seriously.

In its attempt to make the world perfect, a world that blatantly only exists so the creator could make a save the goat ending, mind, there's no reason for the goat to need to be saved at all. Nor for him to exist after dying back when Chara lived with the dreemurrs.

Asgore isn't killing humans, so the souls don't need to be absorbed by anyone. Frisk can just enter the archive and lend their power to destroy the forcefield themselves, so there's no ultimatum like there is in undertale - there's no implied tradeoff of Frisk's life for the freedom of monsters without twinkly's intervention. In undertale, flowey's messing around opened up an ending that would've otherwise been impossible, something that worked for everyone.

Without him existing at all here, frisk could've broken the barrier just fine. All it really added to pacifist was a couple extra boss fights and asgore being dead for two minutes. And him being saved I guess but again, there's no real story justification for him being here EXCEPT to pat yourself on the back for saving him.

Why was he created? In undertale it's pretty clear - they wanted a vessel to hold all the souls in for now during the true lab experiments. He exists because Alphys selected the first flower to ever grow in the garden and injected it with determination that she extracted from the human souls.

... But all the humans are... Alive and well in outertale? They don't need a vessel to contain their souls. They don't need to extract any determination from anyone. Again, why do they HAVE vials of determination? And why did she inject one into a flower?

AND THAT'S THE OTHER BIG THING. It's established she and sans injected a starling flower for... Whatever reason. SO WHY THE HELL IS TWINKLY A CARTOON STAR?!

This point makes absolutely no sense at all. He looks absolutely nothing like a starling flower nor does he behave like a flower at all, which is confusing if that's what he started as. Honestly, I think it would've made more sense to just keep him as Flowey if they were gonna include him at all, and just have his appearance reflect a starling flower instead of a golden flower.

This applies to his fight too. Mechanically I think it's AWESOME, but the visuals are... Just very very boring. A huge part of why his fight in the original is so good it's the bizarre and chaotic nature of it, the horror elements, and the way so much of flowey's trauma in terms of how he was created and the things he finds scary was put on blast for all to see. The combination of mechanical and organic elements, all the plants and insects... Idk, just going 'hmm he's a star. Let's have him go through a star life cycle' is boring, there's no visual appeal.

If his creation is so vague and wishy washy, this would've been a great opportunity to flesh it out more. How was he created? What kinds of technology and machinery did alphys use to put all this together? How did she (or roman????? unclear) get the determination? What does twinkly remember?

That leads me onto a tangentially related topic - his trauma. I... Don't think this was shown very well. He talks a bit about BEING traumatised from the lab, but telling isn't the same as showing and canon flowey is terrible at hiding it, whereas I'd just as easily believe outertale Asriel made it up for sympathy points. He never really projects, he doesn't force anyone else to experience anything like he did, nothing like that. He's just a cocky asshole who likes killing, and who eventually decides to start being nice.

This game constantly seemed to be speedrunning ways to get him from being twinkly to being Asriel as quickly as possible in almost every single route which... Huh???? It's weird. Would've been nice to let him be a star more rather than just Asriel...

(final amendment bc I lost a huge chunk of this essay originally and had to rewrite it, and I'm realising I didn't manage to fit this in this time... How does a single monster soul let him get his Asriel form again? Sure he's still treated as if soulless and it doesn't make him a good person, but if he was 'so tired of being a star', why hadn't he tried doing this sooner? It makes no sense...)

For a game that exists to give him a good ending, it's so ironic how little he needs to exist at all in this world. Just goes to show what it looks like when you go too far with 'fixing' things or removing stuff you seem 'too problematic' for the sake of being wholesome or whatever.

Chara

Speaking of which... Look I'm just gonna say it. This version of Chara sucks so bad.

Chara is one of my favourite characters - they're really interesting, morally grey, and a fascinating way for undertale as a game to interface with us as players.

They're a child who likely saw the worst of humanity, then found themselves in a home with family who genuinely loved them once they fell down and met the monsters. Their intense saviour complex made them feel like the best way to help their family was to sacrifice their own life to get enough souls to break them free (and once they realised they had control, get payback against the humans while they were at it). They could be mean-spirited and a prankster. They valued efficiency HIGHLY. Their favourite number was nine because it's the limit, the absolute, a way to stop hurting and to stop others hurting.

And by doing geno, you can push this fixation on stats further. Max out all your stats. Gain power. Get stronger. Become invincible. Nobody can hurt any more if the world is gone. And ofc, they stand as the final arbiter of consequences for the player. Your punishment for killing everyone and for pushing them into believing it needs to be completed. Chara both IS is and is separate from us in a way that can't really be fully disentangled and it's really, really cool.

Anyway, enough gushing about undertale Chara. What's outertale Chara in comparison?

... Nothing.

They're nothing.

Outertale Chara narrates occasionally. They're a ghost that follows frisk around, but aren't confined to that, and have been actively wandering the underground since their death. They also still have a SOUL for some reason? This part doesn't really make sense at all.

Other than sacrificing themself and maybe wanting to take out a few humans after Asriel absorbs them, they don't do anything that could be considered bad ever. The most devious thing they ever do is snatch Asriel's diary to leave a silly comment in there when they first arrive at the outpost (sans does this with Toriel's phone in undertale tpe for comparison lmao). Despite what Asriel seems to believe, Chara is completely absent from the chaotic route - never getting corrupted, never caring about our stats, never wanting to hurt anyone, never even trying to make us face any consequences. They're just... Not here. For a character so prevalent in the murder based route of undertale this is fucking wild.

They all but vanish if you so much as say something slightly mean to someone, too! It's strange, makes no sense, and just like with sans, it feels like they overcompensated waaaaaaay too much for the people who insist they're evil. On top of that, if you do chaotic before lv0, they don't even remember chaotic happening! They'd may as well have just been a member of the ghost family who likes following Frisk around when they're especially nice. Like Asgore and alphys, they've been sanded down and de-clawed to be 'wholesome' and 'perfect', and it just results in a bland, boring character who loses anything that made them interesting, nuanced and fun.

'Chara wasn't the greatest person'... Why, though? They don't have enough substance in this game for that line to really have as much impact.

Frisk

I'm gonna be honest - I actually ADORED their frisk at first, and I think that's because I started with a neutral run and ended up drawing them a lot. They felt silly and mischievous and interesting, and this continued into chaotic. They seem pretty chill with what's going on but then take that even further by being hilariously affectionate with Asriel and still doing silly things like being up for picking up the electrodampening fluid or drinking directly out of the fountain. They felt like a funny little mini-kris (save for being okay with all the murder ofc).

Then uhhhhhhh... That's when I experienced the second chaotic ending, the one without Asriel, as well as lv0. I feel like they definitely DID try to lean on the Kris angle on purpose in terms of their feelings on being controlled and stuff but it???? Just doesn't work very well? There's no ambiguity to this version of frisk once you've seen all the routes. Just like EVERYONE ELSE, they're just a perfect little angel who would never do anything wrong and anything past lv0 is just the eeeeeevil player influence or whatever. Come on, we have deltarune for that kinda approach to control 😭 (though even then, Kris is a layered and interesting character who isn't goodness and innocence personalised, and that's why they're cool)

In undertale, we have no idea what frisk is like as a person. WOULD they spare everyone without our influence? Would they kill? Would they be a scared child lashing out in self defense? Would they run from everything, then give up and let themselves die permanently somewhere? We just don't know! We're not supposed to know! It feels like it went back to the very early fandom interpretation where frisk is Good And Sweet and Innocent while Chara is evil incarnate - except this time they're BOTH the former.

It's a contradiction too! Why in the Asriel chaotic route are they so down to follow him, and pet him, and hug him every chance they get if they don't like all the stuff we're making them so? The player has no influence over Twinkly. Every single thing he did, he chose to do, and yet even if the only time frisk has seen him was him destroying their mercy button and forcing them to kill for him, they seem to love him to pieces and go along with whatever he says happily. What.

I feel like they didn't know what to do with Frisk here at all and it shows.

Other characters

This has been ridiculously long, but to quickly go over non-major characters... They did very few things to make Roman seem interesting, the amount of stuff hes implied to have helped Asgore with just reduces even further any influence or impact alphys had, and (a smaller nitpick)... Why didn't he use times new roman as a font when we DID see him speak in the archive/on the signal stars? It's such a missed opportunity...

Burgerpants was fun... Kinda. Developing him like this feels like something that should've happened DURING the actual game rather than before it though because it made him feel like a whole other person entirely? The poisoned food was very funny though.

Why is Snowy now Stardrake when his dad hasn't changed at all and Crystal looks like any other snowdrake? That was bizarre.

I actually really liked the humans! Establishing them as actual characters was really fun, and I especially like justice. Justice, at least in my opinion, is probably the most interesting character in this whole game tbh - someone who tried to do good but ultimately caused more harm than good, while NOT downplaying it, showing the consequences directly, and showing them work to try to make things better. The way we don't grab their item like the others in the twinkly fight nor go through an area for them in the archive (and just talk to them instead) really adds to their intrigue - what are they like? Who did they know? Is there something they don't want us to see? How are they strong enough to not need us to grab their weapon at all to lend their help? I think it's get funny that the only character I'm fully praising is the clover-adjacent one. Justice outertale they could never make me hate you

(that being said... seeing the way this game is clearly just supposed to be a 'fix' for undertale does sour my thoughts on the humans a little. did they only do this bc they thought them NOT being full characters in ut was bad/a problem with it? 🥴 This applies to the additional monster kid story focus too).

Speaking of monster kid... Them being an orphan was clearly just a plot device to give asgore more kids and therefore feel like he won more than Toriel. Monster kid in undertale seems like they probably did have real and loving parents, and they have a sister too!!!! Would've been nice if they'd at least done something with their sister :(

This got... Way longer than I expected, so I'll stop here. But outertale definitely gave me an even bigger appreciation for other ut fangames. My gripes with deltatraveler section 3 feel much smaller in comparison now, if tsus misses the mark on Flowey later down the line they've at least already done most characters so much more justice, and it really puts into perspective all the heart and soul that went into kissy cutie, as well as its genuine love got the source material and characters.

Sorry outertale, you weren't for me. That being said, if anyone disagrees with any of this then that's fine! These are all just my opinions and feelings on it after going through all the routes and talking about it with friends. Media is always gonna resonate with different people in different ways and that's a good thing! If your perspective on any of this is different and if you had way more fun with it, I'm glad you did and I genuinely wish I could've felt the same. I feel like at the very least, making it has probably been a great learning experience for the devs and I really hope they carry on making games and improving their skills. Hope y'all are thriving and having fun regardless 💙

[maybe-im-dark]

Okay, so let’s talk about something that’s been on my mind since forever: how Victor Creed (Sabretooth) and Logan (Wolverine) are dressed throughout X-Men Origins: Wolverine and how it symbolizes so much more than just “good vs. evil.” Strap in, fam, because we're about to go DEEP. 💥

1. The Color Contrast: Black vs. White 🖤🤍

Have you noticed that Victor ALWAYS wears black in the movie, while Logan almost always rocks white or lighter colors? I mean, it’s not exactly subtle, but it’s not JUST about the whole “black = evil, white = good” trope. It’s so much more nuanced than that. Let’s break it down:

Victor in Black: Black is often associated with darkness, mystery, and destruction. It makes total sense for Victor because he represents Logan's feral, animalistic, and destructive side—the side that doesn’t hold back, that doesn’t care about morality or right and wrong. Victor embraces that darkness. He doesn’t hide from it, he OWNS it. He’s comfortable in it, and he doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what he is: ruthless, violent, and dangerous. But it’s also important to note that black is a color that absorbs everything, just like Victor absorbs all that negativity, that rage, and that darkness that Logan tries to suppress. 🖤

Logan in White: Now, Logan in white is interesting because, yeah, white represents purity, goodness, and heroism. But Logan? We KNOW he’s not some squeaky-clean hero. He’s been through war, trauma, and all the shades of gray in between. So, why white? It’s because he’s TRYING to be better. He’s striving to be more than just an animal, more than the weapon others see him as. He wears white as a form of defiance against his darker nature. It’s not about being good—it’s about aspiring to be good, to be more than just his instincts. It’s him holding onto that tiny flicker of humanity in the midst of all the blood and violence. 🤍

2. Victor as Logan’s Dark Reflection 🪞

Here’s where it gets even juicier. Victor isn’t just a villain. He’s not just Logan’s enemy. He’s literally the embodiment of everything dark that Logan could be if he stopped caring. Victor is the feral rage, the unrestrained violence, and the part of Logan that LOVES the fight. And that’s why Victor haunts Logan so much—because he represents what Logan is terrified of becoming. 🐺

When you see them fighting, it’s not just hero vs. villain. It’s Logan fighting himself. It’s him battling against that part of his soul that wants to give in to the rage, the bloodlust, and the sense of power that comes with being untamed and unrestrained. Victor is basically holding up a mirror and saying, “This is who you are, and you can’t run from it.” And that’s why it’s so important that they wear opposite colors because they’re two halves of the same whole. They are literally the darkness and light within Logan at war. 🌑🌕

3. The Yin and Yang Connection ☯️

I mean, let’s be real here—Victor and Logan are the literal embodiment of Yin and Yang. They balance each other out. You can’t have one without the other. And here’s the kicker: Logan NEEDS Victor. He needs that darkness to remind himself of what he’s fighting against, of why he’s trying to be good, why he’s trying to hold on to his humanity. Victor, on the other hand, needs Logan to have that contrast, to have a reason to keep pushing, to keep proving that embracing the darkness is the only way to survive.

4. The White Turning to Red 🔴

And here’s the most heartbreaking part: Logan’s white clothes are always getting covered in blood. It’s like the movie is screaming at us that no matter how hard he tries to be good, to be “pure,” the violence and bloodshed always find him. And isn’t that the ultimate struggle? You can fight your darkness all you want, but it’s always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for you to slip up.

Victor doesn’t have that struggle. He’s at peace with his darkness, which, in a twisted way, gives him power over Logan. And that’s why Victor ALWAYS looks so calm, so confident, because he’s not fighting himself. He’s already made peace with who he is.

---

TL;DR: The black and white clothing in X-Men Origins: Wolverine isn’t just a lazy good vs. evil thing. It’s a visual representation of Logan’s internal struggle between light and darkness. Victor isn’t just Logan’s enemy; he’s the living embodiment of Logan’s darkest impulses, the side of him that craves violence and power. And Logan’s journey is about trying to find balance between that feral side and the part of him that still wants to be a good man.

So yeah, next time you watch the movie, pay attention to the colors, the symbolism, and what it really means about who Logan is, what he’s fighting against, and why Victor will always be a part of him. 🖤🤍

[reachexceedinggrasp]

I have a feeling you might relate to this or you might have even related this on your blog already, but I was just thinking of that Ghoul quotation water water everywhere and not a drop to drink

I think probably my favourite, maybe ever, quiet point of characterisation in a sort of villainous or Beast love interest is his or her having a poet's soul... whether that is conscious or unconscious romantic meditation. It's like Kylo musing to Rey when he says 'You have that look in your eyes. From the forest. When you called me a monster' I love that sort of wistful observation, especially because it evokes such potent imagery ('when we fought together in the forest and then you marked yourself on my face'). Or more literally something like Ghoul citing a line of literature, even when none around except for Lucy would know what he's referencing, it's for his own arrestment and amusement, this is how he sees/interacts with the world

I guess in that way, it reveals something new about their perspective on the world, even when they're somebody seemingly cut off from it - monstrous, othered, repellent, ugly - when they're able to articulate a certain beauty which other characters may not remark upon. It's sort of covetous in that sense, but I think it also sort of helps explain what might interest them about a Beauty, after all, there's something they long for and value (spiritual, aesthetic, existential beauty).

I thought you might be able to relate 🥰

Oh, totally. And with Cooper and Ben, specifically, which is a parallel I hadn't actually noticed until you've just pointed it out, we're being shown their sensitivity as characters. Not in the sense of being considerate, but that they're aware and alert to beauty and meaning in the world despite currently occupying a narrative role which might make us think they're simply destructive or nihilistic figures. Despite the cynicism they're both ostensibly espousing.

Cooper quotes or alludes to literature practically constantly relative to how little he speaks, always knowing people almost certainly won't understand him, and that's especially fascinating because he didn't make those kinds of references in the flashbacks. We could take this in a whole direction about how he created the Ghoul as a character to shield himself from the things he had to do to survive and is living within a meta-narrative deconstructing the reactionary anti-hero who overtook the white hat sheriff he used to play in his movies. The anti-hero he never wanted to be. He makes allusions because his life has become a story he's telling himself to stay sane. He's his own wry Dickensian narrator making asides to an imagined audience about dramatic irony and social commentary.

And an important part of his presentation to others before the war was painting himself as not sophisticated. Just a cowboy and then just a guy who plays a cowboy in the movies. He wants nothing to do with politics either in an interpersonal or broader sense, and disclaims any pretensions to being savvy despite being in a very theoretically powerful position as a rich, connected major film star. I think he was genuinely naive, but I also think he often played dumb to avoid social conflict. He was complacent and his image helped him remain complacent. Obviously he was very willing to be confrontational when he saw wrong or injustice right in front of him (he goes after Bud Askins directly to his face about marines getting killed by shitty equipment, he challenges Moldaver when she calls him out), but pre-bombs he mostly uses his empathic perceptiveness and charisma to keep everyone around him happy.

In the wasteland we often see him doing the opposite and deliberately riling people up in order to gather information and assess or eliminate them as threats, but he's also only gotten better at disarming people when he wants to. As a handsome charming film star he pretended not to know anything, as a scary intimidating monster he pretends he knows everything.

What I'm curious about as far as all this goes is whether Cooper had a secret nerdy side and read all the classics as a teenager or perhaps while waiting between shots when he was working as a stuntman or whether he wanted to fit in when he started to make it in Hollywood so tried to become cultured before realising that wasn't what anyone wanted from him. Or if he just spent 200 years alone and read anything he could find as a way to cling to his humanity. We know he was at least a bit intellectually curious before the war, because of his reading and retaining some article about studies on torture.

But YES, him quoting poetry and being so interested and insightful about Lucy, specifically is a huge part of how he's framed as a romantic figure. And he's already by far the most romantic figure in the show. If it were solely about his tragedy, you'd think they would emphasise the contrast between his pre-fallen and post-fallen state by stripping him of his heroic trappings, but they don't. He's actually more romantic post-'curse'.

It also gets me because he's an extremely smart, socially adept person who doesn't let others see him for who he really is both consciously and unconsciously on multiple levels and that layers of identity shit is my crack. He was a profoundly honest person who thought he was simple, but actually he was a glorious maze of contradiction and complexity waiting to happen who is now a master manipulator.

[ace-disgrace-on-the-case]

Man oh man I unironically love character creation for TTRPGs and writing. I love taking a character concept out of the primordial ether of my mind, gently pulling on its threads and weaving them all together to create a brand new tapestry

[sneeb-canons]

mind can rarely crack his joints bc his bones are metal and whatever and usually run pretty smoothly. but on the rare occasion that he can crack them. it sounds like the entire house is being torn apart by fireworks and violent explosions. his back snaps like a godsamn whip and his neck cracks so hard it's a surprise he didn't break his own spine. every single joint in his body will pop louder than anyone in the house has ever yelled, without fail.

he'll always make sure to do this in direct vicinity of both heart and soul because as he rearranges his internal structures they will stare on in sheer, absolute horror, especially considering that once he's done, he just continues on with his task as if it never happened and as if every atom in his body hasn't been split in two

Headcanon #632

[izzyspussy]

like. angel is submissive and breedable because he's trying soooo hard to be Good but he has absolutely no fucking clue how because he never actually bothered to like. develop a personality, form opinions, build an ethical framework, etc. all he's got to go on is this or that makes him feel icky inside, which is completely inactionable, and so he just ends up being obedient and trusting that he surely deserves however the Good Pretty Human Girl Hero treats him. god's perfect conventionally handsome doormat.

spike is submissive and breedable because he's a bottom and he wants to get roughed up and held down and bossed around.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes your boyfriend’s want for you just seems to be insatiable.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, mating press, breeding, biting, he loses control of his technique a teeny tiny bit at the end, im going absolutely insane. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hiii this is a lil mix of my gojo thoughts over the past few months, my sanity is slipping as u can tell <3

the way gojo satoru was in bed was exactly how he was in real life, absolutely merciless when he wanted to be, you realise with the dizzy haze in your mind and the pillow he’s shoved under your hips. there’s a pleasurable burn in your thighs where he’s got them folded into you, your ankles dangling by his ears as his hips press into your ass and the way he looks over you is needy, and a little wild.

but he only really got like this on on a few occasions, like after a gruelling mission, a boring mountain of paperwork or maybe you’d been teasing him. sometimes he’s just consumed by the idea of you carrying his kids— he’s so incredibly insatiable.

“you feel me right here, sweet thing, hm?” the snowy haired man above you hisses with a languid roll of his hips, deliberately pressing into the sweet spots inside of you that he always seems to be able to find so easily. but you can barely breathe, nevermind answer with how full you feel — your warm walls twitching around his heavy shaft before he’s giving you a few more thrusts.

“don’t hold out on me, it feels good, right?” gojo goads, chuckles when the next particularly deep kiss of his cock along your insides has your lips parting to moan, eyes squeezing shut as you wriggle underneath him.

“‘ts too deep, satoru! fuck—“ you manage, voice breaking under the weight of your own arousal but shit— he loves you like this. pliant and pretty and all his. you’re basically begging for him to give you his soul, to pour it into your body and your bones until you’re twitching— his stamina was limitless after all, an endless pool of energy.

“oh? but i’m sure you can take more..” gojo’s words are a low drawl as he curls over your folded figure, making your muscles scream for some sort of relief but he still manages to give you more. he begins a pace that’s so deep, so animalistic that you feel like you could black out with the way the pleasure rips through you, making your body clap against his as his balls smack loudly against your ass and suddenly he’s even deeper.

“see, i knew it.” it’s smug despite the the trembling undercurrent to his tone, breaking under the weight of his own arousal as his voice takes an octave higher. but you’re doing so well for him, your eyes are rolled back— lips parted and you’re basically begging for him to go harder when he leans into press his lips against yours, pushing his name between your lips as your hands grab at him for any sort of relief.

“almost there, right?” gojo groans against you with the next quiver of your walls; the next particularly heavy thrust makes your thighs tremble and he’s so deep it almost hurts, making something spark and burn along your inside as he fucks you into the mattress like a wild animal.

you whimper, barely— it’s a desperately pathetic little sound, wound up tight and it makes him pull away to look at you, crystalline eyes cloudy with lust before his lips are stretching into a smirk.

“oh, more?” gojo’s head cocks to the side and you know you’re done for when his pace picks up, every heavy thrust is driven by the muscles in his body and your pussy squelches loudly with every wet connection of his hips.

“oh, i’ll give you more, baby. so greedy f’ me, hm?” despite his teasing, he’s babbling— sweat beading along his skin as the snowy peaks of his hair frame his flushed features and fuck, the pretty sight above you only makes you feel even better. you’re so high off his desperation, every muscle in your body screams under his but the nerves in your body cry even louder with how good you feel— with how much your body craves him.

“‘ts so tight, you milkin’ me, sweet girl? how many you want, huh? give you as many as you need. wanna see you swollen f’ me, you want that, mhm?” gojo’s barely coherent but his words only make you squeeze around him tighter— a silent little invitation as every thrust has you crying more, more, more! satoru, want your cum—please! punched out little gasps and cries as he digs the orgasm out of you.

“oh, you’ll look so pretty f’ me—f-fuck!” his huge body is looming over yours, pressing you into the mattress and the pillows beneath you. your thighs are flush against his abdomen and chest, and your lungs feel like they quake on every exhale as your lips part to moan. he presses himself into you— face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he grazes his teeth along the skin there, headboard screeching loudly in time with every smack of his hips.

“‘toru, please please please—‘m g’nna,” you tremble as you shake beneath gojo, thighs tensing tight against his body and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you as he smirks against your skin. your orgasm hits you so suddenly, so hard and good that your toes curl where they hang over his shoulders, your body stiffening beneath him and the first milking compression of your pussy makes his pace stutter, hugs him so tight he can’t help but bite so hard into the sensitive skin of your neck he draws blood.

“should see h-how pretty you look like this. tell me ‘ts all mine, y’ gonna make me a daddy, yeah? g’nna fill you up so good. oh, this pussy’s made f’ me, ain’t it?”

his body trembles as he pulls back slightly to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your slick smeared along his skin and your walls still throb with every unforgiving push of his hips. your orgasm feels like it stretches on forever as you gasp out broken yeah, yours, love you so much ‘toru, waves rolling through your body with the heat you feel pour and sting along your nerves. it only takes a few more clapping thrusts and your choked confessions before hes kissing you, just as he likes as his lips curl into you.

gojo cums hard, thick and heavy inside of you when he feels your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt. you’re both so lost in bliss, so unaware of the electricity across your boyfriends skin and the uncomfortable pressure that seems to suddenly weigh down on your intertwined bodies.

the bedroom light flickers but you don’t notice, he’s slurring curses against your lips as he almost pins your thighs to your chest completely, the air between you seems tighter— atoms trembling in the finate space. but he’s continuing to fuck into your sensitive pussy with tiny little thrusts you don’t notice the creek of your furniture as it twitches out of place— like it’s being pulled towards you both. the small flickers of purple fizzle out when you’re both spent and he’s collapsing on top of you with a low, breathy chuckle, making you whine with the cramp you feel in your body.

“‘toru! you’re heavy.” you grumble, voice worn and scratchy but it doesn’t move gojo as he cuddles deeper into you, leaving sweet little kisses along your skin with obnoxious kissy noises— a stark contrast to how filthy he was being a second ago.

you’re both breathing deep as you give up trying to escape from underneath him, opting to press your fingers through his damp hair instead before he finally moves. he pulls back, enough for his cock to push his cum out of your pussy as he does, squelching and dripping into the mattress beneath you both as you jolt slightly. “careful, ‘ts messy, ‘toru.”

gojo whistles lowly before he looks at you again, one of your legs still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder before he’s placing a sweet kiss to your ankle, then following it up with a painfully languid, experimental thrust as his crystalline eyes focus on the mess he’s made of you.

“come on, sweet girl. you’re not nearly full enough f’ me yet.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒. love; you wonder if the king of curses is capable of feeling that emotion too. so, you take on a more direct approach to ask him.

word count. 1.7k

note. sukuna brainrot sorry. . .

tags. true form!sukuna x female reader. angst (+ comfort) / fluff. size difference mentions. eh sukuna’s a bit mean. established relationship, but you’re like v early into the relationship.

it was a calm sunday evening. both sukuna and you had fulfilled your duties for the day. all you needed after working hard was the presence of the person you admire most. thus, you had made your way over to sukuna’s chambers. to your surprise, you already found him sitting on the engawa which led to the connected backyard.

sukuna noticed your presence, but didn't utter a word. he simply shot you a glance before continuing to stare into the distance. he seemed to be in deep thought about something. you didn’t want to bother him when he was like this, but the voice in your head told you to stay.

you silently kneel next to him and gather your hands in your lap. your eyes automatically move to focus on sukuna again. two of his hands are supporting his weight as they rest flat on the wooden surface. the other set rests limply on his thigh.

your gaze falls on his bottom left hand. the one he uses to kill, but also the one he uses to hold and caress you. you could easily recall its feel without having to touch him; rough, callused and warm. you reach your hand out towards his without hesitation.

sukuna’s eyes dart over to your small stature next to him. he allows you to grab his hand, to pull it over to your lap and let it rest palm up on your thighs. it’s almost funny. how big his hand is in comparison to yours.

the comfortable silence continues. the rustles of the leaves and the water movements in the koi pond in the yard are soothing to the soul. your finger traces the lines on sukuna’s palm, following them until they end before switching to the other.

the king of curses watches you play around with his hand. still with that stoic expression on his face. however, feeling your delicate touch on his skin and seeing you smile to yourself for whatever reason makes the corners of his lips curl up. for a split second.

a faint, amused grin. you sure are an interesting creature in his eyes.

“sukuna, can i ask you something?” you break the silence with a question. there is an unknown feeling in your chest; one that makes you restless at night. your smile slowly drops into a small pout when you think about what you want to ask him.

not a single action goes unnoticed by the man next to you. he lifts an eyebrow, but other than that, there’s no reaction visible. he answers you with a hum of approval, “mmh.”

you lift your head and look up at him. sukuna was already staring right at you—his piercing eyes catch your soft ones. he squints. there is something wrong with the way you are looking at him. normally, the smile you give him would reach your eyes. now it doesn’t.

that same smile completely disappears over time.

“do you.. are you..” you stammer. you don't know how to articulate your question. it’s probably dumb. to both you and him. sukuna watches you struggle to ask him whatever is on your mind. he firmly grabs your wrist and squeezes it. not too hard. he doesn't want to inflict any unneccesary pain.

sukuna sighs. a heavy sigh. one thing he dislikes is when you leave him in the dark. it isn’t the first time you did so during the past week. asking him if you could ask him a question and when he grants you the permission to, you back down or change topics.

it’s getting tiresome.

“spit it out.” sukuna grumbles. he pulls your body closer to his by your wrist, your arm stretched upwards with your hand hovering near the side of his face. his breath hits your wrist, causing goosebumps to form on your skin.

crimson orbs stare right into your soul. you gulp and feel your body warm up. when you try to avert your gaze, one of sukuna's free hands grabs you by the jaw and steers your head to face him. his thumb presses down on your chin. he’s not letting it go today. he needs answers.

before sukuna could add to his words, you breathe in sharply. like you’re ready to ask him what had been weighing on your mind ever since a couple days back. oh, stupid it sure is. you know. you’re probably making it too big of a deal. when it isn’t. not in the slightest.

your eyes water. you blink the tears away. you don’t want to embarrass yourself any further by sobbing. your bottom lip trembles as you finally muster up the courage;

“do you love me?”

there it goes. you try to squirm away from sukuna’s grasp after that. you feel flustered. embarrassed. you just want to crawl into a hole and rot.

sukuna does not tighten his grip on you. instead, he loosens them. your wrist slips from his hand. your chin no longer restricted by his fingers. he lets you go.

a painful sting in your heart. you secretly hoped that he’d resist. pull you closer maybe. you don’t know why you expected that. you learnt not to get your hopes up around him and yet you always wish for him to do something.

a silence falls between the two of you again. you act like you didn’t ask him anything. you try to ignore the way sukuna clenched his jaw. how he subtly clicked his tongue. how he let you shuffle away from him.

you clear your throat. with hesistance this time, you gently grab one of sukuna’s hands again. that he allows you. you appreciate that. at least it means he isn’t completely upset. you know sukuna does not allow just anyone to touch him so without permission.

you hold tightly onto his hand like it’s your last hope. his fingers don’t close around yours, though. you don’t mind.

“what a foolish question.” sukuna scoffs and looks the other way. his voice was hoarse. probably from not speaking for quite what time. you silently nod. an expected answer, at last.

you stay silent after that. it hurts. more than you want it to have hurt. maybe it was too early into your relationship to ask such a question. you got into it, knowing fully well how harsh the man next to you could be sometimes.

what you can’t deny is that soft spot sukuna has for you. you see it. uraume sees it. the maids see it. sukuna probably.. knows of it, but doesn’t speak on it. he does not speak up about his feelings much anyway.

but it’s visible in his actions. the king of curses allows you to say and do whatever you want around him. he makes sure his subordinates treat you well. he looks at you with a hint of softness hidden in those red eyes. when he touches you, it’s firm but gentle. like he desperately craves to touch you, though knows not to make that yearning accidentally hurt you in any way.

the latter is what you love most about his soft spot for you. sukuna handles you with utmost care. even uraume had told you that it surprises them greatly whenever they witness the way their master treats you in general.

especially at night. you can’t count the amount of times you quite literally melted into his arms. those four, beefy arms that know just how to make you feel protected. you never sleep in unease. you know that nothing could hurt you when you’re laying against his chest.

sukuna’s actions speak volumes. despite all of that, you wish he’d at least tell you with his words. how much you mean to him.

“my apologies.” you give up. for today, you’ll let him be. the slight irritation in his voice earlier nearly made you cry. he needs more time and you’ll give him that. you slowly detach your small hand from his big, warm one, “i won’t ask you that again.”

sukuna frowns and grumbles something under his breath. you think it’s still because of your previous question, yet his gaze tells a different story. he narrows his eyes as he glares down at his now empty hand. you connect the dots once you see the man take a glimpse at your hand on your lap.

your touch. the sudden abscence of your touch.

“i didn’t say you could do that.” sukuna murmurs. his tone low and maybe even upset to a certain degree. you blink a few times and freeze on spot. the king of curses starts to get grumpy the longer you fail to take the hint.

he kisses his teeth out of impatience. sukuna tightly gets ahold of your hand again and softly yanks it towards him. you squeal as your body stumbles closer to his.

sukuna holds eye contact with you as he brings your hand to his mouth. his tongue wets a spot on your palm—specifically the area that connects your thumb with your wrist. your lips part, your tummy doing flips from the sudden touch.

“don’t let go again,” he bares his teeth before slightly sinking them into the soft flesh. it isn’t a hard bite. more a nibble that leaves a faint mark. what you didn’t expect was for sukuna to kiss that same place after marking it. his thumb runs over that exact spot as well, “got that?”

you nod. you’re unable to refuse him. those feelings of disappointment from earlier long forgotten. you intertwine your fingers with sukuna’s and unlike the previous instant, his fingers do curl back around yours. your skin is still tingling from the feeling of sukuna’s kiss.

the king of curses keeps your entwined hands on his lap this time. he stares off into the distance for a couple seconds before returning his gaze to you. he scans your face and finds what he had been missing;

that tender smile of yours. it was back, tugging at your lips. one of your fingers resumes its soothing motion on his rough skin again. sukuna’s face relaxes. his jaw unclenches.

“good.” sukuna nods at the sight. he turns to watch the night sky again—secretly (yet not so secretly) enjoying this moment of peace.

you’re content with how that ended. and, you’re sure that you don’t mind if it takes days, weeks or even months for your relationship to fully blossom. when you’re with sukuna, one thing is clear: actions do speak louder than words.

[eldrith]

˗ˏˋ your lips, my lips ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x fem!wife!reader words: 5.6k synopsis: you remind Jacaerys that there is no shame in accepting help, especially from his wife. notes: this idea came to me in a fever dream the other day idek. this can be read as an au, it is implied that the dance happened but that luke is alive so idk. as i always say: do what you love. i think jace can be happy for a bit, as a treat. this is honestly like 3k fluff and 2k smut lol. pls lmk what you think <3 warnings: canon-typical injury. jace is so horny and in love that he becomes a poet! light dirty talk(mostly in valyrian bc jace is shy), very very brief breeding kink, slightly sub!jace, praise kink (mutual), slight size kink, hair pulling, pussy whipped jace, PiV creampie, reader rides him. valyrian is translated at the end (author uses a translator so if its wrong im sorry). feedback is appreciated<3 requests open. masterlist.

SHADOWS DANCE. 

Toes cold upon empty stone, you pad across a corridor; short, illuminated in torchlight. A path you’ve taken many times. 

Worry twists your fingers together, toying as you watch the silhouette of your night shift swish upon the contours of the wall. Chamber doors which connect the small hall to your own are open; an afterthought, perhaps, though your husband quite often prefers to slumber with his door to yours drawn open. 

He is hurting. 

Not in any dire way, not by far. Burns, the whispers had reached your ears - from maester to house worker to ladies in wait - burns, across the Prince’s palms; some troubles while handling dragonfire. You have been alive for long enough to have seen dragons dance, see the flesh melt from bones of even those coursing with Valyrian blood in their veins. You cannot imagine the pain of it, lying marred in his palms. 

The maester has seen worse, you are told. He is not in too much pain, to your relief - he is neither sick nor hurting but rather unable to perform any tasks, no matter how menial; something you know your husband will not take lightly. Only a few paces and you reach his chambers, taking in the sandalwood and cedar smoking in small dipped sticks; a favor of his mothers, he told you once. He’s taken to them recently, to the comforting scent; as have you.  

Feet move slowly into the archway; his chambers are always so much warmer than your own. Furs, thicker - bed, more comfortable, hearth, drawn larger. Though it is more likely to do with the company. 

Your husband stands before the mirror of his chambers, his back upon you. 

You watch for a moment - his brows, furrowed in the reflection, a razor is held rather uncertainly in a bandaged grasp. A pang through your stomach at the sight of the gauze, restricting his fingers; a kind glow of candlelight dances across concentrated eyes, once-steady hands trembling as he holds the blade against his cheek, head tilted back. 

Slow breaths - your chest moves with his, as it seems to do more and more these days; a drag of a blade, the wobbling of which sets your teeth upon edge. Such a mundane chore, shaving: yet you know just as most how painful the burns of dragons may be upon flesh.

Your sweet husband is a proud soul; you can almost picture him, resolutely dismissing any offers of assistance before he readied himself for the night. Struggling to wet the razor, to lift it upon his face, yet doing so with a bristling determination. You linger, a specter in the doorway, fingers tracing the stone arch beside you as he works. Slow, determined.  

His chest rises and falls beneath the simple tunic; unlaced, revealing the glimpse of skin awaiting beneath as he clenches his jaw, metal dragging against porcelain. 

Though as soon as you draw a breath, a hiss from him - the razor has slipped, blood thinning in a bloom upon his cheek. Stark against such pale skin. He curses softly, thick brows knitting in some helplessness as his wounded fingers, shaking in pain or perhaps frustration, brush and come away crimson. 

You step forward immediately, concern overriding all hesitations and shyness you’d felt previously.

"Jacaerys," your voice, soft and scarcely a whisper, carries through the room. Through the mirror your husband looks up, his eyes meeting yours. 

A whisper of surprise in his visage that melts into some shade of embarrassment as he turns to you. Your name, falling from his plush lips, bitten in previous exasperation. His voice is warm, guilty. "I did not wish to wake you."

You shake your head softly - he’d not made a single sound since you returned from your evening duties to retire. You learned of his injuries through scarce whispers in the corners of your chamber, not from any loud disruptions from within his own. 

 Ignoring his words, you move closer - feet light, heart aching for his felt helplessness; A crimson tear beads out of the thin cut upon the cut on his cheek. You tilt your head to look into the warmth of his eyes. "You should not be doing this with your injuries," you chide, nodding to the strips of bandage around his palms.

A sigh from him, gentle nod as he looks down upon your expression. "I did not wish to trouble anyone," you find a touch of frustration still coloring his voice, but are not foolish enough to believe an ounce of it could ever be directed towards you. "I am not so helpless." he prepends with a clenched jaw. 

Nodding, you gently take the razor from his loose grip. "No, you are not.” You agree gently, “Sit.” 

You guide him to the table aside the mirror with light hands. He murmurs your name; it slips through his lips like honey. "I do not wish to burden you. It is late, I would not want to keep you awake." 

You cannot help the surge of affection; your husband, so doting, thoughtful. A gentle touch to his cheek, your fingers grazing just under the fresh cut as you swipe away the red. "Sleep can wait.” Your voice is just as gentle as his own. “And you are not a burden; You are my husband. Your troubles are mine."

He sighs, a small appreciative smile growing upon his lips. "I resent being unable to tend to myself." he admits sheepishly.

You run your hands gently over his palm, tracing gently over where gauze conceals marred flesh. “You must heal fully so you might be of aid again soon.” You pull away, crossing the room to retrieve the cloth, oils, and small bowl of water; “In the meantime, there is no shame in accepting help. Especially not from your wife."

His eyes follow you upon your return, your sleep gown swishing against the quiet of the apartments; aware of the semi-sheerness of the fabric, you feel yourself flush. His smile is appreciative.

The bowl makes a small noise as you place it upon the table - you watch the soft illumination of your reflection ripple in the water. “I am a lucky man.” He says, as if to himself; you resist the shy smile that grows upon your lips, looking away from the contents of the bowl and shaking your head gently. He does not seem prepared to leave it be, though: “I scarcely know how I came to deserve someone as wonderful as you.” 

He prefers it like this, you’ve learned; kindness, candor, sweet admissions - flushed cheeks, soft smiles. A true marriage, one being built with respect, with love. And still, moons after your union - every compliment you pay your husband he seems to return tenfold. 

It is content, quiet against the spitting of embers in the hearth as you bend before him, seeking an angle safe enough to press the blade to his skin. A soft conversation, scarcely more than whispers in the eve - though you become weary at the prospect of a safe approach. 

His legs spread wide as he watches you pace - expression somewhere between an amusement and puzzle; You let out a breath in a small huff as you draw a decision.

Your hand falls first onto his shoulder - a steadying grip as you slowly slide onto his lap, positioning yourself to see his face clearly; Jacaerys, with eyes widened in surprise and arms instinctively rising to hold you steady. Despite his injuries, his touch is firm, wrists pressing to you where hands cannot. 

A thick swallow within his throat that you steadfastly ignore. 

The touch of his arms around you, of your thighs straddling his lap - you burn, clearing your throat. Your voice comes, barely more than a breath. "Is this- alright?"

His lips, parted with the proximity, flutter before he finds words. “Y-yes. More than alright.”

With a small grin, you school yourself; pouring the oils upon your palms, you begin to smooth the ointment upon his skin. Cheeks, down the short shadow of stubble he has so resigned to eliminate this evening. A sharp jaw, a strong chin, plush lips. His breath is scarcely more than puffs against your cheeks as you press gently into his jaw muscle; his eyelashes flutter closed. 

When you bring the blade to his skin, it is with no hesitation he tilts his head for you; eyeing you through lids, the apple of his cheeks warm in the light. You release a short breath and begin to shave him with slow, careful strokes. Jacaerys remains still, his eyes fixed - you drag the blade with light pressure, a relief building in you as you begin to effectively remove shadows from his cheek. 

As you continue, the room grows quiet; a soft song of the gentle scrape of the blade and the crackling of the fire. Your heart may have fluttered ceaselessly had you been any less focused on ensuring you do not hurt him; Though there is no doubt - a very handsome man he is, and a very lucky wife he makes you. 

“How did you learn such a skill?” His voice, curious as you tilt his jaw slightly. You do not pull your eyes from your task as you hum gently, aware of his warm stare.

“I’ve never done it before,” you admit, tilting your head along with him, focused on the glide of the blade against the bristled shadow of his jaw. “Though I watched my lord father do it many times. He’d often have me sing to my younger brothers before they were put to chamber - he tended to perform tasks as such when I did so. They used to love watching him.”

Jace nods contentedly, humming at your recount. "Lucerys used to watch me when he was younger, as well.” It seems at the memory he laughs gently - the motion stunted as you hold his face in your grip. “One day he decided he was old enough to give it a try. He sneaked into my chambers and took up my razor."

You can't help but smile at the image, lifting a brow. "And what came of it?"

You sit back, preoccupied with the story - your hand wipes the blade upon the rag beside you, meeting his warm gaze as his grin widens. "I found him standing before the mirror, razor in hand.” A flicker of his gaze to the mirror behind you before he finds you once more. “I tried to warn him, but he was too stubborn to heed me. So, I stood back and simply watched."

Your eyes widen, lips parting in mild amusement. "You let him to do it alone?"

He chuckles lightly, tongue prodding his lower lip. "I thought it best he learn a lesson.” His arms unconsciously pull you closer, readjusting your position upon his lap. You swallow down the warmth at such casual intimacy between he and you. “He managed a few strokes, was quite proud of himself, until... he nicked his lip." A small gesture with his jaw towards your own, his eyes focused on the bottom lip that has found itself caught between your teeth. 

You lift your brows, your hand pausing as it rinses the blade in water. "Was he quite hurt?"

"No, just a small cut," Jacaerys soothes, laughter bubbling up again, eyes tearing from your lips up to your own warm gaze; your stomach flutters at the sound and you can no longer suppress a small giggle of your own. "But the look on his face! He was so indignant, I reckon more in his failure than the pain. He turned to me, lip trembling, and demanded to know why I hadn't helped him."

You swat his shoulder gently with the rag, trying to suppress your own laughter. "You are incorrigible, Jace. You laugh at your brother's misfortune?" You chide, teasing; He shrugs, still grinning as his eyes trace over your face warmly. 

"It was a valuable lesson, one I had to learn myself once. Besides, he forgave me soon enough. I helped him finish shaving properly and patched him up. We've laughed about it many times since." His voice is soft against the crackle of flame, adjusting his posture slightly under your weight.

You laugh gently, the image of a young Jace and Luke pulling a grin to your lips. "You two are quite the pair."

Jacaerys’ eyes soften as he hums in agreement. "I have to let him make a fool of himself now and then." 

He’s taken to moving a stray thumb - one not restricted with salves nor gauze - upon the line of your spine. A gentle ghost of affection as you shake your head fondly at him. 

You hum, resuming your efforts, now moving towards his chin with a gentle grasp. "Well, just be glad I am here to ensure you do not cut yourself again. I should not trust you alone with a razor any longer." You tease, wrinkling your nose as you fix him with a faux stern stare. 

Jace’s laugh is rich, warm. "You wound me, wife.”

The gentle laughter between you trails off amiably as you move your focus upon his upper lip; you, dutifully focused, worried of your own skills, knowing you could very easily slip and cut him - he, enduring your hand around his chin, eyes ceaseless upon your face as you move him how you please. 

You finish the last stroke, setting the blade aside; his eyes are pools; sunlit amber. The cloth is wettened - you string it out and gently press it to his skin, wiping away the remnants of shaving oil and the small trail of blood from his previous nick. 

Jace’s breaths rise and fall languidly with your own in the quiet of the chamber. Your movements are slow, tender; your focus entirely on him, ignoring the heat growing in your abdomen, his muscles flexing beneath you. A shift in the calm of the room; a once placated, gentle silence has grown into a thick, tense quiet - enunciated through short puffs of breath and the slow shifting of your bodies as you clean him.

A lean closer, his finger idly trailing your hip as much as the bandage might permit - you inspect his soft skin, the scent of the oils clouding your mind; lavender, cedar, sandalwood. Incense sticks have lost ember in the corner, the ocean rolling in tides upon the distant shores. You find no missed stubble, only undeniable affection in his eyes; you’ve begun to trace the cloth rather idly along his cheek, eyes rising to find his own gaze stuck upon your lips. Echoes of a house attendant walking out in the halls.

“Done,” You whisper, making no effort to rise from his lap; the warmth that has only grown has begun to make you sweat, that desire, still so new, growing between you. He shifts beneath you, staring blatantly, speaking no words. Worry flickers - a foolish thing, to worry when you’re with him - yet you still murmur your words. "Have I overstepped?” you ask softly, gaze flickering down to his plush, parted lips, watching as he shakes his head vehemently.

"Never," he breathes, "I’m merely admiring your beauty."

Heat. Jacaerys has never, not even in the earliest days of your betrothal, hesitated to praise you for your beauty, intelligence, wit, or heart; yet it still sets your mind dizzy each time. You send him a coy smile, hiding the flush of your cheeks under his compliment, “You only say such things because of the blade in my hand,” You tease. 

Expecting a retort from your sharp husband, your eyes flicker to his; he grins at your jest, whispering, “I would speak such words even if you held nothing but air.” 

His gaze roves over the heat of your cheeks, the flutter of your lashes. Want grows hot within you; to be seen, to be so cherished, it is more than you could wish. Jacaerys stirs your heart like no other could. You do not miss when he leans forward slightly, into your own space; the longing in his gaze is rather unmistakable, and it sends a rush of thrill through you. 

Heart, singing in your chest. “Jace.” you whisper.

He breathes your name in response; a prayer. 

“What are you thinking?” You hum, your breath hitting his own; your hands fall to grasp his shoulders, fingers trailing over the crook of his neck, the ties of his tunic. 

 "I'm thinking," His hands, despite their bandages, pull your hips upon his own quite subtly - your stuttered breath, shaky at the feeling of him beneath you, arousal growing just as your own. His voice is husky, "-that I’d like to kiss you."

 A thrill in your stomach; you purse your lips against a smile of affection before closing the distance, your lips meeting his. 

Warm, soft; gentle as he always is with you - but soon in the undercurrent of the late hour, of the thin material upon your frame, you feel fever infect you. 

It comes in a tilt, sliding your nose against his own, lust coiling between your thighs; any tension of before melts, soon replaced by an urgent need to be closer. Your tongue finds the plush of his lower lip, sliding hungrily. 

He groans softly against your mouth, his injured hands pulling you tight; The faint smell of incense, an intensity of desire matching your own - your hands tangle in his hair.

A wince as you shift, his hand flexing and drawing a grunt of pain from his lips. 

You pull back instantly. 

"Jace," you murmur in concern, even as his lips chase your own, a small bridge of saliva between you two in the firelight. Your voice is breathless, filled with longing. "We shouldn't. Your hands."

He shakes his head, his lips seeking yours. "I care not," he whispers fiercely. "If you cease for my sake, I will perish."

Your eyes roll at his dramatics, though your heart flutters at such fervent words. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and you are finding it harder to resist such pretty requests. "I do not wish to hurt you," you protest softly, though your resolve weakens with each passing moment.

He gazes at you with a mixture of tenderness and longing. “You could never hurt me. Please, let me feel you. The only pain I feel is the distance between us.”

Unbelievable, his cunning knack for dramatics.

Despite the lifted brow you send him, there is an undeniable tremor within you, your hunger growing at the lilt of his tone. Perhaps, you should feel some kind of shyness; Indeed, you’re still learning of each other. You’ve lain with Jacaerys only a few times since being wed last moon—and yet perched so firmly atop his growing arousal, you can’t help the rush of need.

“Well,” You sigh, hand gracing his soft cheek with a small look of pride, “You mustn’t beg.”

He breathes as a smirk of his own grows, “I am a prince, dōna riña. Begging is beneath me.” He murmurs, eyes aflame with that teasing craving, “but I'd gladly beg if it means I get to have you.” 

His ravenous words, mere kindle to the flame. “It is fortunate for you that I am so generous, then,” you murmur, seeking the warmth of his lips once more. He hums in agreement; a reverberation in his chest below your palms stirring a shiver through you. “Fortunate indeed,” he breathes. “Now please do not torture me any longer.” 

You pull away from his searching lips just so, watching as he chases the warmth of your breath. "If you insist," you whisper, your lips brushing against his. His breath is sharp - he dislikes being so teased when he cannot deliver it in return. "I do insist.” he murmurs, words swallowed by the surge of him, teeth and noses clashing as you exhale, stomach flipping. 

His tongue, sliding into your mouth; eager, you part lips for him. The chamber fades into shadows, a dim glow as the witness to your ardor, the only thing to hear such soft sighs and groans from you and Jacaerys. His lips leave you rather soon, peppering kisses upon the flushed skin of your neck. 

A glance behind his shoulder as you cast your neck to the side - flickering shadows, intertwined with each other in a rather sensual embrace upon the wall; Jace’s nose pressed to the heartbeat of your throat as he bites gently against your skin. 

His lips are fervent - the warmth of his breath, his chest heaving below your palms, the scent of his shaving oils - a fierce wildfire within you, consuming every thought but the touch of his body against your own.

An urge, the light pressure of his wrists, desperate to move you upon him - and then his voice, a growl. "Feel me," he breathes against your throat, pulling back so slightly to catch your gaze as his hands, light but insistent, press upon your waist. 

You respond to his urging without a thought; your hips instinctively shifting, meeting the rise of his form with an eager press. The sensation is both thrilling and intoxicating - his moan of pleasure only spurs you on, a shiver of ecstasy as you press just so upon the sensitive of your heat. 

The space between you is gone, the touch of his hands guiding your movements lightly, encouraging your slow rolling hips. The air is thick with the mingled scents of desire and embers low - you, lost in a sea of sensation. His breaths grow ragged, the intensity of his gaze never wavering as he watches you with a look of utter devotion. "Yes," he murmurs, his voice nearly breaking, "-like that, gods - let me feel every bit of you." 

At such words, your cheeks heat vividly - you surrender to the heat of the moment, your movements growing more urgent, more desperate. His breaths are hot against your cheek as you let out a small moan, toes curling as you rove your hips, chasing the heat of pleasure. 

Your movements become more frantic with each passing moment, the need to be close to him overwhelming your senses. His heart, beating as wild as a beast against your own chest; Your head grows dizzy with need, a small noise from the back of your throat as his wrists coax your hips against him. 

“Jace,” Your breath comes in puffs, cheeks hot with the incessant need to feel him within you. “I need you.” 

He hums against your mouth, tantalizing as he tilts his head, “I had not noticed.” 

So cocky; you sigh, hips ceasing slightly, hands trailing over the fabric of his night shirt, feeling the warmth of his lean muscles beneath your palms. “You tease me.” You pout; he kisses the expression away with a small grin. You insist in the absence of a response, “You are cruel, to make it so hard for me to remain composed.” His arms pull you by the small of your back in an embrace - shivers over you as you feel his hard arousal drag along the heat of your aching cunt between too many layers of clothing. 

“I would have you mad with desire, if it means knowing you are as consumed by me as I am by you.” He mutters into the shell of your ear. Your cheeks, constantly heating under his words, so effortlessly setting you afire. 

You pull back enough to trail your lips over his jaw, dropping to press a soft bite upon the skin of his neck; savoring the soft noise, near whimper, from his lips. “You speak as though you haven’t already driven me mad,” You murmur into his skin, “Though I pay it willingly; I would have it no other way.”

To wait any longer would be torture; your hands, hungry and insistent, begin to gather the skirt of your sleep gown - Jace, watching with desire burning heavy in his eyes, hands lying uselessly - the glint of frustration in his gaze is not missed; though you know he wishes to touch you, you revel in the scarce opportunity to take care of him as he does you. 

A soft smile plays upon your lips as you look into his fervent eyes, feeling the heat of his desire merge with your own; Slipping beneath his trousers, you let your fingers graze his skin just enough to drive him wild; deliberate, as slow as his own fingers often are when he finds himself between your thighs. 

His cock is heavy upon your palm; your thighs, trembling with need as you place a few languid pumps upon him. His head, falling back, hands unable to truly grasp your hips - a groan, uninhibited as his brows knit together. “You’re a vision, my love.”

The endearment sends your hips in a short buck - grinding upon his cock, your arousal finds his own; a choked moan from yourself, falling forward to his chest. Laborious sliding of your hips over his own, spreading your need and coating his cock with your desire. Fingers, twitching against your spine - your own threading through his hair. Breaths together, short huffs and unsteady inhales as you finally guide yourself to the tip of his cock. 

“Are you-” His swallow is thick, “Are you sure, love?” He has the gall to question you after such excruciating a wait - though as you stare into his eyes, a flicker, a fleeting observation; He has always taken more than enough time to prepare you to take him; it is no lie that he is rather blessed by the Father - Such memories heat your cheeks. And though you know it may sting, it does not matter to you; You would certainly welcome the sensation. You stir your hips, biting back a noise at the jolt of your sensitive clit against his cock. “Yes, Jace. And you?” You question. An insistent nod, a short groan - "Gods, yes- stop teasing me," he near whines. You conceal a small chuckle of amusement, pressing your lips soundly against him.  

And you sink onto him slowly, eyes screwing shut at the sensation - he, with a low groan, head lolling back to expose the long stretch of his neck. A sharp exhale as you lower yourself, heart slamming as you’re filled; a sating desire within you, growing as you find yourself adjusting to him. 

When you find yourself fully speared upon your husband, you let out a shuttering whimper; his fingers twitch where they lie, pupils blown wide as he gazes upon you. Your lips find his once more in hunger, whispers of moans swallowed, tongue warm as it slides into his mouth. He tastes of the anise candies he favors; a hint of wine, cherry and dark. 

He remains, hips static as you breathe through the sensation of being full of him. His lips are fervent, though any wild need to feel you around him tamped momentarily by his concern for your own comfort and pleasure. 

A distant rove of waves upon a shoreline; the memory of Jacaerys, flushed and wide-eyed the first time you shared his bed. You slowly grow accustomed to his size, the hunger boiling within you as you slowly shift, growing restless. 

And slowly, experimentally - Jacaerys’ hips push slightly up against yours. You stir at the sensation, his cock pressing a spot deep within you - a keening gasp against him, swallowing his short moan with your lips. A slow lift of your hips, feeling him press against you - your eyes flutter shut once more as a flooding of pleasure courses through you, liquid fire within your veins. 

“Gods, my love-” He nearly chokes, “J-just like that-” 

Your small gasp as you begin to rock against his pelvis, cock stirring and pressing deliciously against the deepest part of you; upon shaky legs you rise, gently allowing his cock to drag out of your hungered cunt. “Jace,” Your voice is whiny, breathless - unsure what you plan on saying otherwise, your hands slide into the curly locks, tugging gently. He is rendered unable to speak, mouth open before moving to lick the slight salt from your skin. 

A flush has grown upon your chest; your husband’s lips have found your breasts, peppering bites and lingering upon a spot just under your neckline, his groans reverberating within your skin. Steadying yourself upon him, you find a rhythm - his cock reaching the deepest parts of you, your head tilting back in true satisfaction, a heat coiling within your gut. 

And his lips, ceasing only when your fingers tug at his curls; a curve in his own spine, head falling back against the back of the chair with a groan of pleasure. Heat curls and coils, lit afire by Jacaerys and the feeling of him reaching deep within you. 

“Jace, you’re so deep-” You whisper, toes curling with the sounds of your shared desire echoing in the chamber softly. He lets out a small noise at your words, a smattering of pink across his cheeks; cock twitching with desire within you. 

The hunger calls you. Without further consideration, you snake a hand between you, down to the heat of your cunt taking him, fingers shaking as you seek your yearning bundle of nerves; His eyes, lidded as he watches you. Jacaerys, in his endless pursuit to ensure your pleasures, has always provided his fingers or tongue to bring you closer to finish - though with him injured below you, you do not mind picking up such slack yourself. 

Especially when it brings such deeply melodic sounds of need to his lips. Despite his arousal at your actions, your hand shies away - knowing whatever extension of pleasure you wish to give yourself will be no match for how he so often touches you. Your grip rises instead to steady yourself upon his shoulders, spearing yourself onto him in languid thrusts, ecstasy climbing within you like the wild of fire. 

“Look at you, ābrazȳrys.” He mutters, pupils blown in pleasure, hips canting to meet yours. Though you speak not the language, you are familiar with such a word: wife. A shudder of pleasure at his ancient tongue - of which he has whispered many words to you, most unknown.

He, the picture of the gods below you, letting out a sharp exhale in his own pleasure. His lips, slick and bright, mutter your name - at the summon your gaze finds his own, molten and hungry as your hips move together, the feeling of his cock twitching within you, reaching a spot that has your back keening.

“I’m c-close.” He whispers, a heat upon his cheeks - embarrassment, perhaps, at his eagerness. His eyes find you; you’re met with that dark gaze, regally commanding as he speaks. “Gaomagon ziry. Touch yourself, love, I want to feel you.”  

Gods save you. 

Just as your husband wishes, you drop your fingers once more with no hesitation, jolting. You do not slow your pace; thighs burning, you keen forward, whispering his name against the pulse of his throat, groaning as your fingers press further, tight circles that bring shudders of pleasure. 

“Jaesa, so pretty. Renigon aōla.” Jacaerys’ brows, knitted upwards in gratification; voice, leaking of desperation, of some kind of adulation. He quite often slips into that frantic tongue - the rush of pleasure, of ecstasy, his sharp mind rendered unable to decipher the common from the ancient tongue. You do not know the delicious words that fall from his lips, yet it does not matter - they spur you closer still towards completion. 

“Jace, I’m close,” You hiss, teeth clenched in desire; your hips, dropping upon him slower, deeper; his arms pull you closer with a groan, lips falling to nip small marks into the smooth of your neck. A moan, unbidden from his sweet lips, “Do not stop, please-” he wishes, and who are you to deny such pretty begging? 

When you hit your high of ecstasy, it is with a muffled moan of his name; into the thin linen of his tunic, legs slowing as you roll through pleasure, spasming gently around your husband. His own, quiet moan into your hair, wrists pulling you into him as he whispers, “Yes, ñuha sȳz byka ābrazȳrys, fuck-” 

A thrill within you as you ride your high, such vulgar of a word from your husband; and all, your doing. A frantic whimper from your lips into his throat as he bucks his hips up into you, chasing his own high with a soft whimper. “You feel so good, Jacaerys.” You keen, raising to his face as you feel his abdominal muscles tense beneath you; pressing your forehead to his own, you ride through your completion, heavy breaths upon each other.

Noses sliding against his, you drink his small groans, holding him close; a ghost of his lips against yours, a nip of your lip by his teeth. Long lashes fluttering, Jace finds his own high. He releases his seed into you; you feel him, his hips thrusting up into you weakly as the warmth of him spreads within you. His breath, hot against your cheek, lips chasing yours as you pull away slightly, the slight shift in position sending you both in a harmony of whimpers at the sensitivity. 

The chamber’s hearth spits and crackles; an ember lands near the floor beside the chair. It smolders out, fading slowly into darkness against the stone as you rest your cheek against Jacaerys’ chest, pleased by his gentle kisses upon your hairline.

After moments of silence, basking in your shared pleasure, you press a kiss to his chest. “Are you alright?” He asks gently, soothing over your spine with the soft of his forearms. 

You let out a shaky sigh of satisfaction as you pull back, feeling his cock within you - a fleeting thought; you hope his seed takes. He watches you, eyes warm and gentle as a shaky finger, curled in pain, wipes a stray strand of hair from your forehead - you nod, lifting your hand thumb away the bead of blood that has appeared once more on his cheek; “Yes. And you?” You wonder, pressing a kiss to the freckle upon his lip. 

His smile is the kind that makes your heart skip beats. “Always.” 

translations; dōna riña - sweet girl

ābrazȳrys - wife

Gaomagon ziry - do it

Jaesa - goddess, holy/divine woman

Renigon aōla - touch yourself

ñuha sȳz byka ābrazȳrys - my good little wife

taglist: @bitchydragonparadisee @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @jottositto @chloe-petrichors @elaena-aerrin @smurfelle @greenvita @alyssa-dayne

[misstycloud]

Yandere cowboy x fem.reader

Yandere! Cowboy who’s the towns sweetheart. How can he not be? He helps every troubled soul he comes across, doesn’t matter who they are. He works hard every day to easy the load of providing for the family, he’s not a child anymore, of course he’ll do anything he can to help out! Besides, who wouldn’t fall for those muscles and pearly smile? You’d be crazy if you didn’t.

Yandere! Cowboy who you meet the first day of your ‘vacation’ to stay at your grandparents. Your parents though you’d been acting up the last weeks so they decided it was best to send you away for the summer, much to your dismay. Now you’d have to text your friends that you can’t hang out at all. Damn it. Being forced to stay in a in-the-middle-of-nowhere town definitely wasn’t your top priority. There was practically no service and nothing to do all summer. You’ll be bored out of your mind unless you manage to find something to entertain you. Luckily, there does appear to be something worthy of your attention- or rather, someone. It’ll certainly make things more interesting.

Yandere! Cowboy who you think is kinda cute, if not a little weird. He’s no doubt very different compared to the boys in the city- speaking in that special accent, wearing worn overalls, sweat at his forehead everytime you meet and practical thinking above all else. Still, you find yourself intrigued by his contrasting personality.

Yandere! Cowboy who is enchanted by you. You’re just so….wonderful. Funny enough, he also thinks you’re different, which interests him. Normally, he isn’t the type to brag and is quite humble, but he isn’t blind. He can see the way the girls in town drool over him. He knows he’s attractive. But you, you don’t fall over your feet whenever you gets a glimpse of him. You don’t stutter over every word while talking to him- in fact, you’re as cool as a cucumber. It almost seems like you’re flirting with him.

Yandere! Cowboy who notices you way your eyes sparkle when you speak of your interests. He starts thinking about the way you sound when laugh, how you pout when you’re frustrated and what you look like when you’re sad. It’s all beautiful. You are beautiful. Soon, it’s not only that he focuses on. Now, every time you’re walking ahead of him, he pays attention to the curve of your ass, how your hips sway when you walk, and suddenly he finds himself having to adjust his pants.

Yandere! Cowboy who you enter a special relationship with. You’re more than friends but less than actual lovers- that’s how you see it at least and you believed that’s what yan! Cowboy wanted, too. You two spend all your free time together in each others arms and going on cute dates around town and in the forest.

Yandere! Cowboy who wishes to marry you. You’re his perfect match! It must be fate that you ended up in their little town. He’d give you a big beautiful ring- he’s saved up quite a bit during his years of working, so he can easily afford it- and let you have whatever wedding you imagine. He’d make sure it’s exactly how you want it. Then, he’ll personally build you a house. Of course, before he starts working on that, he’ll need to know if you want a porch, what kind of shutter you want and what colour should the exterior be, would you like a fireplace?

Yandere! Cowboy who can’t believe it; you’re leaving? You say that summer is over and you don’t have to stay there with your grandparents anymore. You almost seem…relieved. No, that can’t be it. You love him! Right? Or was the connection he felt just one-sided?

“Sorry, you weren’t meant to catch feelings for me or anything. I just wanted to have fun, pass the time y’know.

“So I didn’t meant anything to you? Not even a little bit?…”

“I do like you. But I live in the city and my stay here was never going to be permanent. Like I said, I’m sorry it got a little too serious.”

“…….”

“Yeah, I gotta go now. I wish you well though, see ya.”

Yandere! Cowboy who spiraled after you left. You’ve dug yourself too deep in him. He can’t imagine going on about his life like you never existed. He thought you could be happy there, even if wasn’t like the big city you were used too, but that was clearly not the case.

If he had to uproot his life and move to be with you, then so be it. He wonders if you’ll be happy to see him again.

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #13

"So?" Red Hood asks, arms crossed. "Was I right?"

"Yes," Phantom says, deepening his voice, "this is one of mine."

"One of your what?" Robin growls. Nightwing's hand on his shoulder is the only thing keeping him from invading Phantom's personal space, which, please, continue to do so Mr. Nightwing, Sir.

Phantom would take a deep calming breath if a) he wasn't trying to appear as otherworldly as possible which means no human breathing and b) if that wouldn't so obviously telegraph how uncomfortable he is in the Batcave surrounded by the entire Batfamily.

Next to him Red Hood shifts in slight discomfort. His ties to the spectral realm mean he's picking up on Danny's unease even if he can't fully translate the feeling. Which is good. Danny needs to maintain what little control he has over this situation.

"There's a gh-spirit in my...realm," Phantom says, letting himself drift gently to the other side of Batman's medical table which just coincidentally puts more distance between him and the the rest of the clan staring him down. Black Bat leans forward and he violently suppresses a flinch. "They're known as Nocturne. They wield power over dreams. Their signature is all over this."

And Danny means that literally. Their ecto-signature couldn't be more apparent if they'd written it in sharpie across Batman's suit. This is what Jason—Red Hood, because Danny couldn't have been dealing with a simple civilian case of ecto-contamination, nooo, he's got to have connections to the superheroes Danny has spent the better part of his afterlife avoiding—managed to pick up on, even being the low level entity that he is.

At which point he'd called Phantom in, even though Danny had spent the better part of two weeks trying to intimidate the guy into never contacting him, Ruler of the Spirit Realm (lightning crash!), again, but here is his calling card just in case (thunder and creaking noises!!), but again, you should never use it unless things are very serious, OoOoOoOo~~~

Damn it. It's been like 10 days.

"So how do we fix it, Your, uh, Ghostliness?" Nightwing says, ducking his head in a sort of half-assed supplication when Phantom turns to him. Nightwing glances at Jason for affirmation who shrugs out of the corner of Danny's eye.

"Phantom is fine," Danny says, waving his hand and letting his upper lip curl in an expression of distaste. "Remember, it's like you're Vlad when Dad offers him a glass of eight dollar wine!" Jazz's voice reminds him. Robin growls lowly, likely meaning he's nailing it. He looks away dismissively ("Honestly, it's like you're Vlad, anytime, ever." Sam notes dryly) and thanks god he doesn't have a heart in this form because it would be beating so loud right now.

Beside him, Jason scratches compulsively at the back of his neck. Huh, his anxiety is manifesting physically as an itch. Good to know.

"You can't fix it," Phantom says. "I can."

"At what cost?" Red Robin asks. "Red Hood mentioned you'd want something in return?"

Frick. His other contingency to keep Jason from ever contacting him again. Phantom had lightly hinted his taste du jour was, uh, souls.

Something Red Hood has apparently let slip, because now Robin shakes off Nightwing's hand, puffs out his chest and declares "I will trade myself for my father's safe awakening, Spirit!"

The other members burst into denials which almost covers up Danny floating sharply back and saying "What? No!!!"

Key word: almost.

Danny coughs as they stare at him.

"That is to say, I have no desire for a child," he puts a bit of snarl into it, showing fang. The mood in the room plummets drastically as Nightwing gently grabs Robin by the arm and pulls him back to his side.

"We see," he says. He steps forward more assertively, placing himself in front of the others, all of which are now eying him warily. "Then, is there a gender you prefer?"

It takes a second to click in Danny's head and then he swings his head wildly away from his audience to hide his reaction, nausea and embarrassment turning his face bright green. "Fika Kristo," he mutters in Esperanto as quietly as he possibly can, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He gives himself a moment to settle and game plan before turning back around. "I have no desire for any of you, and it matters not. In this instance, a deal need not be struck. Nocturne is my subject, and they have done this without my permission." Danny blinks, eyes widening. "Not—not! that I would give them permission to do such a thing. In the first place. Ahem."

"Okay...so you'll do this for free?" Jason asks. "Seems like a bad business practice since you also fixed me up for nothing—"

"What he means to say, Your Majesty, Phantom, is thank you!" Signal says in a rush as Nightwing starts, "Wait, Hood, what do you mean—"

"Enough!" Phantom says loudly (nearby bats take off and Jason's itch migrates to his forearms) "I have little time," read: he has a test tomorrow and he's only one-third of the way through the study guide "And I grow tired of this...dilly-dally." Frick! Is that an old-timey word?

"Of course. Thank you again, Phantom." Nightwing says stiffly, eyes still narrowed in Hood's direction.

"Wait, sorry, Phantom, Majesty, I'm Spoiler by the way," the purple-caped vigilante Danny already knew was Spoiler says. "How do we keep this from happening again? To any of us? Is there a way to defeat this Nocturne?"

"Moreover, why Batman?" Red Robin asks. "Why would a spirit from another dimension want him asleep?"

Phantom sighs. "Nocturne was trying to send a message. To me. Through you," he says, nodding at Red Hood. "They...how do I put this. They like attention. Being the spirit of uh, dreaming, they don't receive that attention. And you were in my realms for quite some time. And they wanted...attention."

The lackluster explanation sits for a moment before "They were jealous? Of me?" Red Hood asks skeptically.

"It's more complicated than that. Your...physiology," Danny puts it as delicately as possible, watching regretfully when Red Hood still stiffens at the mention, "Is particular. You gather attention in our realm. And having my attention is...special. But not!" He says to the group at large, a touch panicked, "Romantic!"

Jesus, he's never gonna hear the end of this from the others.

"Anyway, I will ensure it does not happen again."

"By paying them attention," Spoiler says under her breath, wiggling her eyebrows at Black Bat, Red Robin shooting them both a glare. Nightwing ignores them in favor of staring at Red Hood and Phantom. Danny is unsure what Red Hood has disclosed about how he knows Danny, but now he feels confident the answer is close to nothing.

Before Nightwing can ask whatever uncomfortable thing he's about to ask, Phantom disappears. Invisibly, he hovers over Batman's sleeping body and silently apologizes for the intrusion before intangibly slipping into Batman's REM realm and finding the man...oh...

Probably thirty minutes later he reappears to the group, who all perk up at the sight of him. Their eyes bounce from him to Batman; who does not move, to the monitor; which shows no change in his brain activity.

"I'm going to need your help," Danny says to Jason, getting to the point.

"Why? What can I do?"

"It's easier if you come with me," Danny says, grabbing his arm.

"Come with—"

Danny wastes no time in turning them both invisible and flying them into Batman's mind.

"What the—" Red Hood twists and turns, taking in the hallways of the manor. From afar, they can hear the tinkling of a piano. "You, I had your word—"

"This isn't where you think it is," Danny says hurriedly. "We're in your—Batman's dream." He walks quickly down the hallway, towards the music. Jason follows.

"What?"

"The way to break a dream spell is to wake the dreamer. You can't do that externally so you do it internally. Usually you wake the dreamer by turning the dream into the nightmare, scaring them awake."

The hallway stretches on longer than realistic, the dream attempting to divert them. But it can't outrun Danny. His power seeps into the halls, ice creeping along the paneling and freezing the way behind them.

"Batman, however, is hard to scare."

"So you want me to do it."

"What? No." Phantom shoots him a confused look. "Why would I—Ahem, The other way is to convince the dreamer they are dreaming. They break the dream themselves."

"Alright..." Jason says slowly, now keeping pace with him. His breath forms a cloud as he speaks. "And you think I'm the person to do it? I'm not the one he listens to you know, that's more Nightwing's schtick, or hell, anyone other than me."

"This isn't just Batman's dream, Jason," he says. Hood's eyes narrow at his real name, but now the truth is necessary. "This is The Dream. The perfect life. Everything he could ever want."

They're approaching an opening on the right side of the corridor. A bright light emanates from it, alongside the noise of stumbling piano keys and laughter, deep and male and unrecognizable. The Dream.

"Thomas Wayne," Jason breathes. "You want me to convince Bruce it's worth walking away from the center of his universe? It'd be easier if I put a bullet in their chests."

Danny stops abruptly before the doorway, turning to face Jason.

"You know, I fixed you," he says, head cocked. "Those feelings you felt, you shouldn't be feeling them anymore."

"I...I don't."

"Then why do you act like it?" He lets himself drift up, reaching beyond their planes of existence and extending a metaphysical hand to Jason's spirit. It shivers away. "You don't have to hide behind what was."

"I'm not hiding! And I don't have to explain myself to you!" He tries to move forward but Danny puts a hand out and he cannot move past it. He growls in frustration.

"I'm grateful to you, but with or without the Pits I'm fucked up. This is just who I am. This is just what he made me."

"You've never asked why I look like this. But did you know my form is malleable?" Phantom says, letting his legs shift into a tail, letting two eyes become three. "What I believe is what I am."

And then he takes several steps back, putting the doorway between them. "From here on out, the Pits can't tell you how to think or feel. Your decisions are wholly your own. Starting with this one."

Jason stares at the doorway, then Danny.

"I won't make you," Danny says simply. "And if you desire, I will retrieve Nightwing instead."

Jason scratches at his arms, grits his teeth, and stomps through. The light resolves into the sitting room, massive windows letting in sunlight so bright it streaks yellow-white across the room. Bruce sits on the maroon versailles couch next to Cassandra, who sits cross legged, excitedly watching Alfred pour her a cup of tea. To their right, in the open space, Damian barks instructions at Tim on handling a katana. Stephanie and Duke sit on the ground besides the coffee table, homework sheets sprawled across the surface, suffering their way through a calculus problem.

Bruce, smiling softly, looks across the room to where the atrocious playing is coming from. Red Hood follows his gaze.

Sitting at the piano, trying to play while Dick distracts him with a pair of chopsticks, is Jason. He puts a hand on Dick's face and shoves, both of them hitting the wrong keys.

"Get—away—dumbass!"

"No, see, it's a duet! Jay!"

"That's not why it's named—" and Jason Todd-Wayne tips his white-tipped head back and laughs.

[astrologyvas]

1st house overlays/synastry

18+

please do not copy or repeat my work anywhere sun in the 1st house overlay: as we know, the sun illuminates anything it touches. naturally, in synastry, the sun will light up & shine onto the house's personality, appearance, and approach to life. this is a great placement to have for both romantic and platonic endeavors because you feel a mutual understanding; like you're on the same page in the book of life. the house will feel an abundance of validation and recognition from the sun. something about the sun just makes the house feel good, like the world still has something to offer. the sun is very fond of the way the house deals with situations thrown at them. "i love the way you handled that". there's a natural sense of comfort found in one other, it feels like you just get each other. the house may find a lot of peace and serenity within themselves when they find their way back to the sun. gives me the energy of the house thinking "i wish they were here" when they're at a shitty party. the house's general character and disposition is highly aligned with how the sun sees themselves, giving a sense of familiarity and closeness. complimenting each other back to back energy. this person would be a great partner to go out with, because they will always give you the acknowledgement and confidence you're seeking. "should i get this tattoo?" "you would look amazing with that tattoo".

moon in the 1st house overlay: there is no room for concealing emotions in this connection. both parties intuitively sense how the other is feeling, and can see their true motivations with ease. the house may feel almost unveiled by the moon, surprised by how quickly they are able to keep up with their emotions. this is the type of person you miss having as a friend when breaking it off with them, even if you were romantically involved. similar to the sun, the moon overlay shares a natural compatibility with one another. this synastry provokes emotional harmony and deep understanding. the feeling of telling them something you wouldn't ever open up about with anyone else. in this connection, the moon can serve as a tender reflection to show the house how to heal and nurture themselves. this overlay will make both not only physically attracted to each other, but also intensely emotionally. the moon finds the house's mind, body and soul irresistible, while the house desires the moon physically as a means of emotionally connecting. you are able to read each other exceptionally well, the energy of knowing how they feel just by the look on their face. the house will be openly receptive to the moon's way of reassurance. the house saying "i never thought about it that way" when the moon offers them consolation. both parties feel immense relief and comfort within each other. the person you look for in a crowd, to find they were looking for you too.

mercury in the 1st house overlay: this overlay is a like-minded and stimulating bond. having this synastry makes connecting on basic levels practically intrinsic. it feels like you get along right away, and often share similar outlooks on topics and values. the way mercury speaks and allocates knowledge is admirable to the house, like mercury is able to lay out information in a way that resonates with them. the house feels listened to by mercury, like they don't understate the house's intelligence. mercury can easily enthrall the house person. it's like mercury has an innate ability to make any conversation exciting and intriguing for the house. both may steal slang and phrases from each other, because they like the way they sound coming from the other person. initially, the house may struggle to keep up with mercury's fast-paced nature, or find them hard to fully grasp. mercury may feel like they're much more charismatic and magnetic when they're in the presence of the house. it's like a switch flipping for mercury, being able to reel the house in with their words. both parties banter and make fun of each other all the time. the two of them may be very attracted to each other's hands and arms, like you can't stop staring at their fingers when they're doing random tasks. mercury will be inclined to mentally pursue the house, they want to win them over with the charm they exude. no matter what, mercury feels an unquenchable curiosity for how the house operates and perceives information.

venus in the 1st house overlay: this is a connection that will cause intense physical attraction no matter what. in my personal experience, this has been an infatuation placement. the intangible pull these two feel for one another is powerful and consuming. venus finds the house very physically appealing, and the house basks in the planet's admiration. everything about the house, how they move, walk, and talk, venus can't get enough of. on a less superficial level, both parties will find the other very gratifying and enjoyable to be around. this connection will be fun under any circumstances, they can have a good time together even if they're on a sinking boat. venus will feel proud and confident in public with the house. "can you believe i pulled them?" energy. however, this placement can be bittersweet, in the sense of the house feeling like venus doesn't see their personality, only their looks. this can be difficult to overcome if there aren't substantial placements or aspects to show genuine admiration rather than shallow attraction. at its worst, this synastry can have the energy of shane & rachel from the white lotus. in this bond, both venus and the house share a similar taste for clothing, art and culture. the type of relationship where they like to dress each other up and pick out their clothes. the house will feel increasingly attractive and charming when in the vicinity of venus, and venus easily finds inspiration through the house. this is the person you have a hallway crush on at school.

mars in the 1st house overlay: mars falling in the 1st house is an enticing, aggressively playful, and physically erotic linkage. this synastry gives me the energy of not being able to contain your smile, even though you're arguing. these two grind each other's gears, in a way that you want to strangle them, then make out. mars is instantly on a pursuit for the house, like they see them as something to conquer. the house thrives on the ego boost from mars' chase, and may deprive mars of their presence to maintain control. initially, the mars is definitely somewhat at a whim of the house. however, the house is physically captivated by mars. mars appears as a rugged, lustful meal of sex appeal for the house. "i could eat that girl for lunch". it's like mars gives the house a taste for life and adrenaline. eye-fucking each other across the room vibes. this overlay may feel like a game at times, like a nonchalant war to see who breaks the tension first. the house's behavior riles mars up, intentionally or not. the energy of mars making fun of the house constantly, while the house is telling them to shut up. the first impressions of this person are very strong and memorable, you definitely won't forget them after originally meeting. this connection is inspiring for the house, as if mars pulls motivation out of them. very lively and dynamic relationship. laughing, tickle torture, and angry sex.

jupiter in the 1st house overlay: both the house and jupiter light up when they're around each other. jupiter, the planet of "so much abundance it's spilling off the plate," entering the 1st house is a great placement for self-esteem and confidence. both parties exhilarate and inspire each other plenty. jupiter is able to expand the worldview of the house, encouraging them to take risks and learn about life simply by having fun. jupiter's praise massively inflates the houses ego and self-worth. the house feels emotionally enriched by jupiter, like they can't help but feel fulfilled by them. the house may find that being around jupiter brings luck & opportunities for them, like things just fall into place. it makes me think of jupiter as a celebrity, and the house as their friend who gains recognition through jupiter's influence. jupiter feels very admired by the house in this connection. the house can learn a lot from this bond; it feels like jupiter is an infinite well of knowledge for the house to dive into. this synastry can almost be pedestal-like for jupiter, as if the house thinks they can do no wrong. be wary of rose-colored glasses and too much glorification. if the house is younger or less mature, jupiter can find their timidity annoying at times; offended that the house doesn't always trust jupiter's wisdom and direction. however, the mutual respect this connection brings is healing for the soul of both jupiter and the house. this synastry is groupie love, painting portraits of each other, and endless flattery.

saturn in the 1st house overlay: this synastry will force you to grow outside of yourself. if saturn does one thing in this connection, its holding the house accountable for their bullshit. both party's insecurities and weaknesses are obvious to each other, like they're sprawled out on the table. saturn often tries to clean out the house's faults to help them grow. this can be suffocating for the house at times, especially if they aren't looking for or open to change. the house can subconsciously try to look good and doll up if they know saturn is going to be there. the house craves saturn's validation, and can succumb to imbalanced power dynamics if not careful. if saturn is afflicted or unevolved, this connection can be critical and envious in nature. the house easily expresses themselves, which can inspire jealousy in saturn for something that doesn't come as instinctually to them. saturn can really pick at the house's insecurities if they want to, and vice versa. these two need to be mindful of their jabs, and careful of being too mean and berating. if this connection is stabilized and healthy, these two can be the ultimate power couple that comes off as sultry and mature to others. saturn builds the house's confidence from the ground up, like they're a project for saturn to work on and improve. saturn returns are a great time for these connections, because of the structure and discipline the saturn person offers in the chaos.

uranus in the 1st house overlay: in this connection, uranus loves to stir things up within the house and help them break free from the mundane comforts of life. initially, the house can find uranus to be totally weird, "out there," and sporadic. it's like the house is puzzled by how uranus acts. "i've never met anyone in my life like you before". uranus grows on the house very fast, and inevitably, they start thinking uranus is unique and ahead of their time. the house needs to be cautious of being too stubborn and apprehensive in order to keep uranus' flighty nature from kicking in. this connection can feel like you grow into the best and most authentic version of yourself through each other. uranus helps catapult the house into being who they truly are, leaving no room for self-doubt and embarrassment. the house may be fascinated with how uranus conducts and presents themselves. it gives me the energy of the house pulling a lot of fashion inspiration from uranus, because of how innovative and original the planet comes off to the house. the type of people you save to your pinterest board. this bond is electric and unpredictable, they love to keep each other on their toes. however, both may be resistant in relation to commitment because of the intense need for freedom uranian energy activates. these people provoke rebellion in yourself you've never felt before, like you want to see how far you can go before getting caught. uranus sees a plethora of untapped energy in the house, and thrives off inspiring them.

neptune in the 1st house overlay: the converging of this overlay is dreamy and illusive. the energy lingering around this connection is an intoxicating, love-at-first-sight experience. neptune is bewitched by the house's beauty. this synastry is rose-colored glasses on steroids. underneath the blissful admiration and mesmerized gazes, neptune's blurry nature makes what you think you know about your partner and what is actually real an uncomfortable awakening. the house can feel a frustrating pressure to live up to neptune's unrealistic fantasy that they have projected onto them. on one hand, the house wants to indulge and relish in neptune's perception in order to maintain a beautiful and magnetic aura. on the other hand, the house wants to be loved for their true, genuine self. both need to tread carefully in this connection, as the neptunian influence can replace typical bonding and becoming acquainted with predetermined conjectures and assumptions. the feeling of cutting them off, then realizing you didn't know anything about them. however, this synastry is a great opportunity for combined spiritual expansion and growth. sex is an unearthly union between them. deep understanding is mutual and almost psychic. "you make me feel like a person". they slip into your dreams, and know what you are going to say before you speak.

pluto in the 1st house overlay: pluto's presence in the 1st house can be an intensely metamorphic bond. this relationship goes beyond physical, into the deep intertwining of each other. the house portrays a fascinating allure towards pluto. pluto feels very tempted and inexplicably drawn towards the house, almost like the house is testing to see when pluto gives in. the house feels like pluto dominates their mind, which can quickly lead to them becoming smitten. pluto's persona intimidates and simultaneously attracts the house. in this connection, pluto will inevitably hold a lot of power, and can become jealous and overbearing regarding the house. this bond requires pluto to be mindful of arising insecurities revolving the house's outward charm to others. the house feels like pluto peers into their soul, seeing their vulnerabilities and weak spots. the house almost can't turn away, because of the intimacy they discover through this connection. this is the type of couple that turns heads when they walk in. if pluto is afflicted, this synastry is susceptible for forced change and control. pluto needs to be cautious of trying to mold the house into what they want, rather than what the house wants. by supporting the house, pluto can propel the house's spiritual and psychological broadening, and act as an important guide for the house to fulfill the immense potential that pluto sees in them.

lilith in the 1st house overlay: in this overlay, lilith finds the house to be the living embodiment of their raw and primal "dark" side. everything lilith hides away and rejects in themselves, they see in the house- physically and internally. in this relationship, identity is extremely affected on both sides. the house's friends & family may find them unrecognizable in the presence of lilith, because of the shadow they naturally evoke in the house. these two mirror each other's most repressed desires & taboos, easily exhilarating each other in the process. your heartbeat increasing uncontrollably when in their presence vibes. upon meeting, both parties feel irrevocably lustful and attracted to each other. there is a very intense bodily chemistry between the two, the type of energy that other's can feel because of the potency. in this connection, there is innate mutual respect, but heavily lilith for the house. lilith honors and admires the house's unapologetic nature regarding themselves; and the house thrives on lilith's passion and sexuality. in public, the house may feel like their impulses are drawn out- simply by lilith's company. although, however transforming this experience may be for both parties, this overlay can cause lilith to be obsessed with the house superficially- if the powerful lilith energy is not handled correctly. something about this couple could be scandalous or "unacceptable" to normal society, like age gaps, background differences, or social statuses. however, they are not concerned with backlash from others, and love uplifting each other to their deeper emotions and true colors.

[ozzgin]

I'm the anon who asked if your requests are open and i got busy assignments + presentations that i almost forgot about the request but now i remembered and it's based on my dream i saw that night..

How about a vampire who lost his relic (presumably a ring) and reader happens find it and tries it on, now the vampire is all panicking because guess what? That was a betrothal relic and it has binded the vampire's soul with the one of reader. They can't pull it out/take it of.. oh well, now they are stuck and obviously the vampire hates the idea of being stuck with a pesky human but hey they are kinda stupid..? How tf they tripped on thin air? Or how they are still alive even after being food poisoned 5 times a month? Vampire is now babysitter for his human *sighs * what has he gotten himself in..

(Please add yandere elements later on, my brain stoopid but i want a hot Victorian era vampire being obsessed with me ^^ muah!)

(I'm sorry this is so lengthy TT)

Yandere! Vampire x Reader

Featuring a ridiculously lucky Reader who constantly manages to escape a Vampire's assassination attempts. Did someone order a supernatural edition of enemies to lovers?

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, romcom

[Monster masterlist] [Original works masterlist]

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" your friends gasp in unison, eyes fixated on the fallen ceramic pot that scarcely missed you, now laying shattered at your feet. You laugh reassuringly and wave your hand in dismissal. "It's the fifth time it happens today. Maybe there's a storm coming?"

From within the shadows, menacing eyes glowing red follow your movements. "Damn it!" The mysterious man curses under his breath. He stares enviously at the bulky ring on your finger. The ring bearing his Family signet, where part of his very soul resides. It has stayed with him for centuries, and somehow, to his utmost shame, he lost it. By the time he rushed back to retrieve it, you were carelessly sliding it down your finger. He wanted to strangle the life out of you right then and there, but he felt it: the immediate surge of contractual power, dominating his will and holding him back from breaking your bones. "It's a little tacky, isn't it?" your friend remarked. You nodded in agreement and tried to remove it, but the metal band tightened around your skin, painfully constricting your digit. It was stuck. It was too late.

Now he has to rely on cheap trickeries like this one. Sure, he may not be able to directly plunge his fangs into your neck, but the bonding curse does not shield you from "accidents", you see. It would be a real shame if that flower pot was to land straight into your head, ending you instantly and thus breaking the connection with him. Except you simply refuse to die. A mystery, a paradox, one that enrages him to no end. It's almost as if the ring is bringing you fortune at the cost of his misery.

"Have you had any luck removing that ugly thing?" the person standing next to you mentions. The vampire lord grits his teeth at the blasphemous words. This is what's become of him: a deceitful buffoon, having to sit and listen to his inheritance being mocked relentlessly. He holds back the urge of shouting that thousands have bled to death in order to forge that magnificence. "Not at all", you respond idly. "I tried taking it to a jeweler, and she said she could try to cut it, but she ended up having a heart attack right in the middle of it. She didn't even look that old, maybe it runs in her family?"

Unbelievable. The thought of reclaiming his relic haunts every second of his day, to the point he's become your shadow. Stalking your every move, your every breath, observing his prey and waiting for an opportunity to strike. He can already picture that pathetic face of yours, twisting in pain, begging for-...huh. Well, look at that, you're reading one of his favorite books. Perhaps you do have a little taste, after all. It won't save you from your terrible fate, but he might skip the prolonged torture.

There's plenty of quotes out there about knowing your enemy in order to guarantee your victory, though one might wonder where the limit of such knowledge resides. Or what counts as useful to begin with. The vampire lord is presently wondering about this very aspect, as he mouths your coffee order from a distance. Less sugar, huh? You did mention losing your sweet tooth. He shakes his head indignantly. Absolutely not! The throb of his heart is fueled by raw hatred and nothing else. One of days he will savour your demise.

Your ridiculous luck might just end today. You've taken a shortcut on your way back home, and didn't expect a shady, burly man to block your exit. A perverted grin stains his face as he approaches you, twiddling with his pocket knife. "Alone at this hour?" You frown and try to find a way out, but the man suddenly begins to heave and convulse before your eyes, grasping at his chest as the skin shrivels and dries. He collapses at your feet, body wilted as if it's been emptied of its vitality. The Vampire Lord clicks his tongue.

To think he'd rush to rescue his sworn enemy, a pitiful mortal like you. He didn't even get the chance to consider the aftermath. You stare at the stranger, confused but observant. Pale skin, crimson eyes, unnaturally sharp canines...and the fact he just drained a living being into a bloodless corpse: everything hints to one possibility. "Are you by any chance a vampire?" you find yourself mumbling. "You must've graduated from Harvard with those deduction skills", he responds sarcastically.

Everything else unfolds in a haze. Wasn't he planning to kill you and retrieve his ring? When the hell did he offer to walk you home to avoid more creeps? Why is he twirling his hair sheepishly whenever you praise his demonic powers? Oh, but it gets worse: why did he suddenly feel the urge to kiss you before returning to his cursed lair? Why did he accept your invitation to spend the night at your place instead? One moment ago, he was doing his best to curse you off this Earth. Now he's tugging stray strands of hair away from your blushing, whining face, asking you if it hurts. Damned human.

"How did you know I like this? Have you been stalking me?" you joke, nudging your undead boyfriend and setting the gift aside. "More or less", he confesses with a yawn. He recalls all that time spent dutifully spying on your oblivious self. "You know, a human like you shouldn't be able to dodge death like that." He turns to you and scans your features. Then, abruptly embarrassed, he ruffles your hair to block you from noticing his blush. "I suppose my failure was the better outcome. It's not too bad, having you around."

[cherryredstars]

Ok so i have this fic idea where reader and mig are from different universes and reader is a scientist and one time mig and her get drunk and start talking about the multiverse and suddenly they are on the topic of what would happen if people from different universes had a baby together. (You see where i am going with this...) they end up drunkenly fucking and saying it's for "research" because they can't admit to themselves that they are in love. If this request is too complicated feel free to ignore. Thank you in advance cherry!! I hope u have a marvelous new year!! 💕

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Oral Sex, Mentions of Animal Testing (for science), Breeding Kink

A/N: Thank you, love! I hope you're well!!!

You know there is a process.

And you know this isn't it.

There are supposed to be hypotheses and written out procedures. Dependent and independent variables, a control group. Fucking hell, you should be experimenting on fucking mice. You should be limiting the margins of error, should be going with the most direct, straightforward pursuit for results.

And yet...

You don't stop Miguel when he pushes you back onto the couch. You don't pause or even really think when he's pushing your pants down your legs, placing kisses along the skin as he goes. You lift your hips to aid him when his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, shivering when his warm breath fans over your exposed sex. If this experiment was in any sense proper, you would get straight into it. Cut out all the unneeded steps. But you can't help but pull his head closer to your aching core, craving the way his warm tongue laps at you. If you weren't already drunk, you would be drunk on this feeling alone.

But god, nothing has even been more satisfying than doing the work. You know the data would be void in a real experiment. The trials bleeding into each other hardly make for adequate data, but the way you beg him for more is involuntary. It feels too good, to have him desperately thrusting into you. It makes your mind numb, and everything you know about your life's passion is erased. The only thing that fills your head is the words Miguel grunts into you ears, promises of fucking a baby into you. Vows to make you bloated with load after load of his cum. That all it'll take is one of his orgasms to make it happen.

You guess that is a hypothesis in itself: Miguel O'Hara can get you pregnant with just one orgasm.

Too bad he's too desperate to find out if that hypothesis is correct. Because he doesn't stop at one. No, he keeps going. One after the other with no breaks in-between. But you guess that's to be expected, he is a man of science himself. A passionate one at that.

He's almost crazed in the way he overstimulates himself. Sweat beading in his hairline as he grunts down at you, watching the way he creamy cock slides in and out of your abused pussy. You've lost count of how many times you've come alone, but you know based on the way your body shivers and jolts that it's far more than you've ever had before. It's almost painful now, the way your next orgasm rips through you and shatters your soul again. You let out strangled breaths as you fight through the aftershocks and the continued pleasure of Miguel's cock slamming against your cervix. You swear you black out before he finally stops, your eyes and mind groggy as he pulls your hips flush against his as he spills into you.

You can feel him trying to push deeper into you as he pants ruggedly, his cock twitching against your walls until he's milked dry. Even when he's done filling you, he stays connected. He collapses onto you, breathing in the linger smell of sweat and sex on your skin.

"Got to make sure it takes."

Well, does the process really matter if you get the desired result anyway?

Part 2 Part 3