#i mean the way i did it here isn't it i feel like but i think if i combine it with a couple other methods i might be onto something 🤔

[dragonbarbie]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

aemond targaryen x baratheon!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: aemond targaryen is tasked with bringing the stormlands to his brother's side. but when he arrives he finds the new regent, old lord Borros' young widow, isn't as pliant as he had anticipated. he finds himself drawn to the poised, commanding lady of storm's end, much to his horror. but he refuses to leave without bringing this storm to heel

word count: 12 k (ye gotta suffer for ye smut what can i say)

tags: mentions of past forced/arranged marriage, reader is a member of a minor baratheon branch and is Borros' widow but no other traits are described, smut, handjob, choking kink, fingering, p in v sex, hate sex, creampie, cowgirl, mention of moontea, hints of dom!aemond? or hes just being a control freak i mean the line is very thin [lmk if i missed something]

sidenote: this was such a fun one shot to write, i was writing aemond after so long i think i got a bit carried away hytftgyhuijo do comment/ask and lmk if you'd like this as a series cause i might just have ideas for that

The hall of Storm’s End was cold, the stone walls rising around you as you watched the storm raging outside through the window, expecting to see your guest arrive at the dreary scene any minute. The screech of a dragon approaching managed to reach you, louder even than the sound of thunder. You did not wait to catch a glimpse of the creature for yourself, instead your black gown swept as you made your way to your late husband’s seat, the dark fabric pooling around your feet as you sat, spilling over the stone like a dark tide.

The unmistakable roar of Vhagar’s wings heralded Aemond Targaryen’s arrival, accompanied by a loud ‘thump’ of what you imagined was the ground straining under the beasts feet, to signal just how close to your home the dragon had landed. The dragon’s arrival even rattled the windows, a reminder of the power the prince carried with him—power you knew he intended to wield like a blade. Your jaw tightened for a brief moment. Vhagar’s presence wasn’t just a spectacle, a grand display of power and might; it was a threat.

Your lips curled ever so slightly in distaste. The prince’s arrival on the back of a dragon, no less the largest alive, was nothing less than a veiled threat. He wanted you to know the might of the greens, to feel the heat of dragonfire on your doorstep.

You stretched out your hands and placed them on the arms of the stone seat, chin up, back straight; determined, to be seen as a commanding presence. You wore no crown, but you would impress that this was your land. Your posture must reflect as if you were carved from the same storm-hardened stone that made the keep, a Baratheon through and through, even if from a lesser branch of the family.

 You belonged here, not merely as the old lord’s widow and the new one’s mother, but by your own right too – you had to hold onto that as the gates to the hall were flung open after a few minutes of anticipation.

In he stepped—Aemond One-Eye, cloaked in Targaryen arrogance, his long strides purposeful, each movement precise, till he reached the middle of the hall. His single eye fell upon you immediately, his gaze sharp and assessing, like a man who expected you to yield at the first word. You did not move.

After a few seconds, he continued his steps once more and you let him approach, watched him close the distance until he stood before you. Then, with all the decorum expected of his blood, he bent low and kissed your hand. “My lady Baratheon.” His voice sounded as cold as his hand felt against yours.

“Prince Aemond,” you said, your voice as smooth as silk, yet laced with an undercurrent of steel. “Storm’s End bids you welcome… and your dragon.” you tilted your head ever so slightly, the hint of a smile on your lips. “I must say, it is not every day one finds a beast as colossal as Vhagar at their gates. Her presence is... difficult to miss.”

Aemond straightened, his eye narrowing ever so slightly. “Vhagar’s presence is a reminder of the strength our House offers to those wise enough to stand with it, my lady. A reminder, of a promise of protection.”

“A reminder,” you mused, leaning back in your chair as though you held all the time in the world, “or a threat?”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “Only to those who would stand against us, my lady.”

“Ah,” your eyes danced with playfulness, “and I suppose I must decide whether to accept this…. protection…or risk the wrath of your beast?” Your displeasure at being forced to house the ancient creature as you made the decision about whom to side with was clear. Vhagar’s presence cast such a long shadow, it hung over every word that was spoken in that great hall. You knew Otto Hightower had expected the mere presence of the dragon would encourage the frail, young lady, who’d only been appointed regent because she had the good fortune to give birth to a son unlike Lord Baratheon’s first wife, to come on side without much fuss. You were going to cause him much disappointment.

Vhagar might be mighty, but you would not give in to the feeling of fear at her attendance. You would stand your ground before the prince, and not let him make the mistake to think that he could intimidate you.

Hands clasping behind his back, the prince’s good eye bore into your face, his voice low, laced with a hint of warning “you appear to be a wise woman to me, my lady. You understand how unwise it is to provoke a dragon.”

You laughed softly, the sound ringing across the otherwise eerily quiet hall “Is that what I’m doing, Prince Aemond? Prodding at the dragon’s belly?”

He was trying to impose upon you the upper hand he held, to dangle the danger of his dragon over your head to get you to agree to his demands – you deflected it as if by a flick of your wrist, which left him surprised. He knew you understood him perfectly well, and he was starting to understand you too now, as you lifted your hand to your chin, and leaned on your palm to watch him almost lazily.

Your eyes sparkled with an unspoken challenge as you watched him, letting the silence linger, enjoying the way his patience seemed to thin with each passing second. You could tell he was uncomfortable with how the tension had shifted, though his eyes never left yours and his expression betrayed nothing but you observed how his nose flared up in an indication of the underlying anger and frustration. He was a dragon, yes—but one that had yet to learn patience. You would teach him.

“You know why I’ve come,” he finally said, trying to pull the conversation back into his control. “My grandsire has written to you already of my intent. A marriage alliance between our houses. I would take in marriage one of your stepdaughters, in exchange for the strength of the Stormlands at our back.”

“Ah,” you sighed, “such a generous offer. The strength of Storm’s End married to the might of your house would certainly be something. At the very least it would ensure your brother cannot be defeated outright in a land battle.” You had gone over this with your husband’s advisers multiple times, you knew the strength of your army, the advantages it brought to either side, like the back of your hand. “And yet…” you paused, lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. Aemond straightened his back, tapping his leathered foot, realising you were not going to make his work easy.

“… I have to wonder, why you think I would choose the promises of the Hand over the promises of… others?” you spokepointedly but did not mention the name of his half-sister Rhaenyra, but he understood where you were signalling. “Your brother is not the only claimant with dragons.”

Aemond forcefully replied, in an attempt to demonstrate his advantage while keeping his bubbling anger in check, “The largest dragon in the realm is before your gates. The whore of Dragonstone with her bastards could never match Vhagar.”

His words were filled with vitriol, but they did not move the lady Baratheon. You simply mused “I confess, the notion of the mighty Vhagar at my beck and call is... tempting–” Aemond’s jaw clenched at how you implied him or his dragon would be at your ‘beck and call,’ but he bit back his tongue “–but power is a fickle thing, your grace, is it not? Today, it flies at my gates; tomorrow, it may burn them. If not your dragons’, then your half-sister’s. To stand with either one of you is to stand against the other. And their dragons.”

Aemond took another step forward, refusing to let your words unsettle him. “Storm’s End has always been loyal to the Crown. We expect no less now.”

“Yes but which crown must we bow to now remains unclear, yet.” You casually replied as you rose from your seat, the dark material of your gown swirling around your feet once more. The firelight caught the fabric, casting shifting shadows that made you seem like a figure from a half-forgotten tale – larger than life, and ethereal, not quite inhabiting the same plane as the prince. “As I am sure you are aware my late husband’s father swore an oath to support Rhaenyra. While I do not dismiss this hand of friendship your grandsire, the Hand has offered us, I cannot accept it either.” You met his gaze as you looked up at him, unflinching, your smile pleasing yet razor-sharp. “Loyalty, Prince Aemond, is a curious thing. It can shift, like the sea winds of this land. And I... well, I would prefer to remain more flexible in my allegiances. At least until I’ve had time for some careful consideration.”

Impatience grew within Aemond, you could see the tension in how rigidly he stood. He could sense you were slipping from his grasp, just as easily as the wind slipped through the cracks of your keep’s stone walls. He needed to push harder, to make you commit.

“This is a matter of great urgency, my lady, I—” He was about to press further when you let out a soft sigh and brought a hand to your temple, feigning weariness. “Forgive me, my prince, but I find myself dreadfully fatigued. The burdens of leadership weigh heavily on one such as I. You must understand... after all, I am but a woman, and we are so very frail. We were not built to rule you see… is that not the core reason your brother has raised his banners against the Princess after all?” your eyes seemed to goad the prince to challenge you on your words.

Aemond clenched his folded hands behind him, but betrayed none of the irritation simmering beneath his surface. He could see right through your act. There was nothing frail about the Lady Y/N Baratheon. This was another move in your game, a way to delay him. You were stalling, that much was clear.

“Lady Y/N,” he began, stepping forward again, “we cannot afford—”

“There will be time, Prince Aemond,” you interrupted, finality in your tone, a dismissal thinly veiled behind sweetness “Plenty of time to discuss alliances and armies. Storm’s End is yours for as long as you need it. Make yourself at home.”

Aemond stiffened, realizing that you had no intention of continuing this conversation tonight. You were dismissing him, and there was nothing he could do to force your hand without showing his own weakness.

You turned then, moving toward the doorway with a graceful ease that contradicted your words of weariness. Aemond was fuming with frustration which had finally sept through the cracks of his unbothered exterior. This was the first task he had been assigned as they had started to draw their banners, the first contribution he was expected to make for his family’s cause. He refused to go back empty handed. To win the Baratheon’s to their side was his duty, and he had no intention of returning without anything other than the Stormlands in his pocket.

Just as you reached the threshold, you stopped, casting a glance over your shoulder, your voice light but edged with mockery. “Oh, and do let the staff know whatever your beast will be having. We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting, would we?”

Aemond’s grinded his teeth at how you were daring to treat Vhagar as if she were no more than a hound at the gates. His dragon, the largest and most fearsome alive, reduced to a mere beast by your dismissive words. Aemond would not find it so easy to deal with the new lady of Storm’s end as most had expected. Borros’s widow may not have the years of experience to strengthen her, she was a young thing yet, that the old lord had married for the purpose of producing him sons; yet, even he would have never expected you to become this formidable a defender of his seat as you had become.

He watched as you disappeared into the shadows, having given him nothing. Everything in your manner told him one thing: this woman would not bend easily.

You stood beside the bed, watching the rise and fall of your son’s little chest. Seeing him safe and sound was all that kept you going, so whenever your mind would be distressed over the politics and games around you, you would try to be around your son to remind yourself why you were doing all of this in the first place.

Royce slept soundly, a peaceful expression on his innocent face, his tiny hand curled around the edge of his blanket. But peace was an illusion here in Storm’s End, where every decision threatened to shatter the fragile balance you were fighting to maintain. You smoothed a stray lock of dark hair from his brow, your heart heavy with the burden of his future. All this you did for him, to ensure his safety, his future, his seat. One wrong move, and you would not pay for it alone.

Behind you, the crackling fire in the hearth could not chase away the cold reality of the letter from Rhaenyra, now resting on your writing desk – it served as a reminder for you, a reminder that a storm was brewing outside. Ser Byron Swann finally brought you out of your brooding thoughts. “You’ve been quiet for some time, my lady,” came Ser Byron’s voice, tinged with concern as he stepped forward, his armour gently clinking in the quiet room. Byron had been a faithful bannerman to your late husband, and so far to you. You appreciated his counsel and concern.

Not taking your eyes off Royce, you spoke “To choose incorrectly would mean risking his future. The Stormlands could tear itself apart.” Your bannermen, always watching you with suspicion for being a woman who dared to hold power over them, had already whispered their concerns. Some remembered the oath Borros’ father had sworn to Rhaenyra years ago, binding them to her claim. Others had made their displeasure plain—a woman on the Iron Throne, abomination they had muttered darkly, displeased with the idea of a queen ruling over them. The Stormlands was teetering on the brink of division. Then there was the fear of dragons, which prevailed over all else.

You straightened, hand lingering on the bedpost as you turned away from the sight of your son and addressed your counsel more directly. “Choosing Rhaenyra might honour the oath, but it could also fracture the Stormlands beyond repair. Choosing the Greens...” You hesitated, the thought of Aemond Targaryen flashing briefly through your mind. “...may bring us under the protection of dragons, but at what cost?” Otto Hightower was perhaps the most infamous schemer in the land, and the ‘King’ Aegon was by all accounts a useless drunk. Not to mention his younger brother…

Byron crossed his arms, brow furrowed. “Neutrality is not an option either, not with the eyes of both sides upon us.”

You sighed wearily, and agreed “No, choosing neither would invite war right to our doorstep instead.” You paced toward the hearth, placing a hand on the frame of the fireplace as you watched the flickering flames that seemed to reflect your thoughts, anxiously moving, untamed. You had been strong when facing the prince, unwilling to back down or give away any fears you might privately have. Now you had no need to hold onto such a façade, you could admit to yourself that this was an extremely slippery situation you and the Stormlands were in. Your brow furrowed with worry as you looked into the flames, willing for an answer to leap out from them.

Byron's eyes followed you closely. As if he could read your mind, he tried to voice your thoughts “There is no right choice, my lady, you can only hope to pick the lesser of two dangers.” If only you could tell which was which, you thought of who Borros would pick momentarily, but then found yourself thinking that you’d never much cared for his strategic opinion anyway, so there was no reason to rely upon it now.

“what did my lady think of the Hightower’s messenger, the one-eyed prince?” Swann curiously asked.

What did she think of Aemond? A dangerous man, undoubtedly—sharp, calculating, and ever poised for battle, even when the fight was merely in words.

And yet… there was something more. Something you would not, could not, name aloud. His cold, unyielding demeanour stirred something in you—something that made you wary, but also intrigued. Aemond Targaryen was not a man easily thwarted, and that made him dangerous. His arrogance was palpable, his strength undeniable, but beneath that was a fire, simmering just beneath the surface. You had seen it in his eye, in the way he watched you. His features were sculpted as if by marble, standing so close to him you could see why your septa use to tell you the Targaryens were closer to gods than men, you had verified the fantastical accounts of their Valyrian beauty for yourself. You found yourself tilting on the side of agreement with those opinions.

Your fingers tightened ever so slightly on the stone beneath it as you leaned towards the fire. You weren’t a fool. You knew the allure of power, of danger. And Aemond embodied both.

The memory of Aemond’s lingering touch when he kissed your hand, and the veiled threat of the dragon that waited outside your walls, sent a chill down your spine.

You drew in a slow breath, forcing yourself to focus. Attractive or not you could not afford to be distracted by immodest thoughts of the Targaryen prince, not when everything hung in such a precarious balance.

You turned back to meet Ser Byron’s eyes with your own hardened gaze. “Only that to take Aemond Targaryen lightly could prove to be a grave mistake.”

Aemond stood at the narrow window of his assigned chambers, watching the endless churn of the sea beyond Storm’s End. The wind here was relentless, beating against the stone walls with the same fury that seemed to linger in the air since his arrival. It matched his mood—restless, frustrated. He had come to Storm’s End to secure an alliance, to bring the Baratheons to his brother’s cause. But instead, he found his thoughts tangled in something far more distracting.

Lady Y/N Baratheon.

He stepped away from the window and moved towards the small desk, settling into the chair. A half-written letter to his grandsire lay before him, waiting to be finished. The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. Aemond dipped his quill into the ink and resumed writing.

My Lord Hand, I arrived at Storm’s End to find the lady regent in full command of her seat. Y/N Baratheon is not as easily persuaded, as was expected...

His quill paused. His mind drifted back to your first meeting in the great hall. You had been seated on the Baratheon throne, the seat of you late husband. Yet you did not look out of place in it for a second, one could have been easily forgiven for mistaking to think you had been born to it and were not merely guarding it as your son’s keeper. Your alluring eyes had met his without flinching, without the slightest hint of deference. You were calculating, composed, and beautiful—there was no denying that. But it was more than just your appearance that held his attention. There was something in you that challenged him, intrigued him.

Aemond set down the quill on the table with force, flexing his hand in frustration. The same hand, he realised as he looked down upon it, which had held your own to his lips only hours ago. He had felt it then, a pull. A quiet draw towards you that had nothing to do with the game of politics and alliances.

He had seen it in the way you looked at him, how your eyes had lingered when he kissed the back of your palm—a small, fleeting moment that had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He had sensed it the moment you welcomed him with that cold smile, that hint of mockery in your tone when you’d spoken of his dragon. Vhagar was meant to remind you of what he could bring to bear against your house, yet the you had barely blinked. Instead, you’d made a jest of it, turning the veiled threat back on him with the ease of a seasoned player in the game.

You wielded your wit like a blade, much like he wielded his sword. You had unsettled him in a way he hadn’t expected. And that pull he felt towards you was as unwelcome as it was undeniable.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. This was not what he had come here for. He was not a boy, not some green fool led astray by a pretty face and a clever tongue. He was here for duty—for the future of his house. For his brother’s crown. Y/N Baratheon might be all captivating, but she was merely a pawn he needed on his side, nothing more.

Aemond shook his head and returned to the letter.

I will continue to press our advantage and remind them where true power lies.

With a resolute shake of his head, Aemond signed his name to the letter.

Duty. Only duty.

The days at Storm’s End had settled into a routine of formal dinners and polite conversations, surrounded by the awful weather which seemed ever present outside the walls of the ancient castle. Aemond had been introduced to Lady Y/N’s stepdaughters soon after his arrival, and each one, in her own way, seemed determined to gain his favour.

This was very much to Aemond’s annoyance, and very very much to your own entertainment. You held no great love for your stepdaughters, Floris was the only one you tolerated really. All four of them had been rather uncourteous to you when you, young as you were, not much older than the oldest of them, had first married their father so quickly after their mother’s death. You hadn’t been able to voice how unfair it was for them to lay the blame for that on your feet when it was your father who had practically forced you into the union with Borros. After their father’s death the girls were pretty much on your mercy, and you had decided to be generous enough to keep them under your protection – they were your son’s family after all, even if utterly tiresome. You supposed the responsibility to get them respectable marriages also befell on you, when you thought of Aemond’s offer.

Upon hearing the news of the arrival of a prince they had leapt at the chance to be introduced to him, which you had obliged. That ought to keep him occupied in the meantime, you’d thought with a smirk.

Cassandra, the eldest, had made the first move. She had practically thrown herself into the role of hostess, her wide-eyed enthusiasm grating on Aemond almost immediately.

“Oh, Prince Aemond!” Cassandra exclaimed the moment they were introduced, clasping her hands together as though she were greeting a long-lost friend. “What a joy it is to finally meet you!”

Aemond inclined his head stiffly, already sensing where the conversation would go. She wasted no time in becoming over-familiar with the man who seemed to do nothing but ice her out. Cassandra was pretty enough, but her excitement bordered on ridiculous.

“Tell me,” she continued, undeterred by his silence, “is it true that your dragon is the largest in the world? What a marvelous thing to behold! My father always hated those things but I assure you, I don’t share his aversions one bit—”

Aemond barely managed to suppress an eye roll. Cassandra’s chatter washed over him like the ever-present rain outside—relentless, loud, and entirely uninteresting. His mind wandered as she continued to babble about the wonders of dragonriding, and before he knew it, his gaze had drifted across the room to where you stood, speaking with one of your bannermen.

Unlike your daughters, you were calm, composed, your every movement deliberate. You had a way of carrying yourself that commanded attention without demanding it. There was no loudness, no need for theatrics. You simply were.

“Prince Aemond?” Cassandra’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and he blinked, realizing she had asked him a question he hadn’t heard. He looked down at at her out of the corner of his eye, her eyes were wide with anticipation, waiting for a response.

He forced himself to focus. “The sight of Vhagar is stunning, yes, though I doubt she would be as charmed by your enthusiasm as you imagine.” There were few who could stand before his great dragon and not buckle at the knees, he did not think the eldest of the Baratheon girls was one of those rare few.

Cassandra giggled, utterly oblivious to his lack of interest. “Oh, I would never presume to charm a dragon! I’m sure it takes someone with great strength and skill to command such a creature.”

Aemond only nodded, eager to end the conversation. His thoughts were already drifting back to you, who had now turned and caught him watching. You smiled faintly, a knowing glint in your eyes, before turning back to your conversation. He felt a flicker of frustration. You were too aware of his distraction, and it seemed you enjoyed keeping him off balance.

His encounters with Maris, the second eldest, were no better. Maris was clever, and her need to prove it often left him feeling as though he were being interrogated.

“Prince Aemond,” Maris began one evening during dinner, her eyes gleaming with a curiosity that made Aemond immediately wary. “I’ve always been fascinated by Valyrian history. The legacy of Old Valyria, the blood of dragons… surely, someone like you must know its intricacies better than most.”

It was one of Aemond’s favourite topic of study, and thus, initially he was intrigued by her interest in it. “yes, I have read the histories diligently. What parts hold your particular interest?”

“Oh the doom, of course.” And there she lost the prideful dragon-prince, for he was as attached to the legacy of his family’s old homeland as one could be, at the mention of its downfall his face turned to an immediate grimace.

Which was apparently a hilarious scene.

A stifled laugh from the other end of the table made him lift his eye off the younger girl to you, who were hiding your mouth behind the white napkin.

His gaze had drifted to you many times that night already. You had sat at the head of the table, right across from him. Your demeanour blasé, unbothered by the efforts of your stepdaughters to capture his attention. Every now and then, your eyes would meet his, and there would be that faint glimmer of amusement in your gaze, as though the entire charade was a source of quiet entertainment for you. And now, you had dared to openly laugh.

It irked him, the way you seemed to understand his thoughts without him ever voicing them.

Maris pressed on, oblivious to his distraction. “I’ve read that Valyria’s fall was as much due to internal strife as external forces. The dragons, the magic—such power, yet they crumbled from within. Do you think that fate could ever repeat itself here, in Westeros? Could our dragons fail us the way theirs did?”

That question got on his nerves and Aemond’s patience frayed. His thoughts were still tangled with you, and the incessant questioning only worsened his mood. He glanced at Maris, his tone sharp. “You ask too many questions than are appropriate, I think, of a noblewoman, Lady Maris.”

Maris blinked, caught off guard by the sudden coldness in his voice. For a moment, her confidence faltered, and she offered a sheepish smile. “Apologies, my prince. I suppose I can be a bit… overzealous.”

Aemond said nothing, his gaze flicking back to you, now sipping wine with an expression unreadable, though the faintest trace of a smile lingered at the corners of your lips. You raised your goblet slightly in a mock toast, eyes sparkling with levity as if you knew how little interest he had in your stepdaughters.

You both became the last two to depart from the dining hall that night, and walked back to your chambers in stride with each other. The corridors of Storm’s End were quiet, save for the soft rustling of your gown and the faint echo of footsteps. With a sly glance, you broke the silence.

“You were rather harsh with poor Maris tonight,” you said, your voice carrying a playful lilt. “I think you might have left her heart in pieces. All that talk of Valyrian history and you simply dismissed her with a single, icy look. Quite the cruel prince, aren’t you?”

Aemond cast a sideways glance at you, “I have little patience for those who speak without thought.” he stiffly replied.

You let out a soft, playful laugh, eyes twinkling with mischief, completely unbothered by his frigid demeanour “Yes, I noticed. But tell me, Your Grace, do you always deal with such cruelty, or was Maris simply the unlucky target of your wrath?”

Aemond slowed his pace, his gaze narrowing slightly as he looked down at you. “I am not cruel by nature, Lady Y/N. But I value directness. Your stepdaughters prefer to dance around what they truly want.” His voice lowered, carrying a hint of something more, something that suggested this conversation was no longer about Maris. “I prefer a more… forthright approach.”

You arched an eyebrow, your smile deepening, though your eyes remained sharp. “Forthrightness is an admirable trait,” you mused, the tone almost purring. “But sometimes a little patience goes a long way, don’t you think? Not everything worth having is so easily won.”

Aemond stepped closer, closing the gap between you as you walked. His gaze was intense, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that what this is, then? A game of patience?” His eye flickered over your face, searching for some crack in your composure, some indication that he was getting through the walls you so carefully kept in place.

It would be so easy, you found yourself thinking, for something to occur between the two of you in this very hallway, without no one being the wiser. You couldn’t deny, the temptation was there for you. What you could not predict was how similar line of thinking was running through the prince’s head as well, how painfully easy it would be for him to press you against the stone wall and take you then and there. He wasn’t sure you’d even resist.

He forced himself to steer clear of those thoughts when he next spoke, “I wonder, Y/N, how long you intend to keep me waiting.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully,  gaze unwavering. The flirtatious spark in your eyes faded, replaced by the calculation of powers you had to keep track of every moment as the regent of the Stormlands. “What exactly are you waiting for, Prince Aemond?” you asked, your low voice carrying all the weight of a challenge.

Aemond’s eye darked, the tension between you both thickening. He leaned in, his voice low and smooth. “An answer, perhaps. To the alliance. You know why I am here, and yet you continue to delay. You say patience is a virtue, but I wonder how much longer we’ll pretend this is a game.”

Your lips twitched into a smile, though there was no warmth in it. “It’s late, my prince,” you replied after a beat, stepping back ever so slightly, putting just enough distance between you both to break the moment. “Surely, even a man as determined as you must know when the hour is too late for such discussions.”

Aemond hummed lowly in frustration, sensing the shift. You were pulling away, retreating just as he thought he had gained some ground. His voice remained steady, but there was a hard edge to it now. “The hour is late, but the war waits for no one, My Lady.”

You sighed at his tenaciousness but did not reply, turning around towards your chamber “Good night, Prince Aemond. Do try to get some rest. You’ll need it—”  You turned to have one final look at him as you closed your doors, “—I believe Cassandra is planning on accompanying you to our library here in the morrow.” You smirked, as you shut the door on him.

Aemond stood still, his fists clenched at his sides. He had come close, but once again, you had slipped through his grasp, leaving him with nothing but the lingering tension and the maddening sense that you were still in control of this dangerous game.

Ellyn, the third-born, was, if anything, the easiest to deal with—if only because she was utterly uninspiring. She made no effort to engage him in conversation, content to let her sisters fight over his attention while she sat in silence, staring into her food.

“It rains often here,” Ellyn said one afternoon, as they both stood by the windows watching the storm outside. “You get used to it.”

Aemond glanced at her, waiting for more, but that was all she said. No follow-up, no elaboration, just a dull observation about the weather. He resisted the urge to sigh. This, too, was a waste of time.

He found himself watching you again, speaking with one of the castle’s servants in the courtyard. Even in these small, everyday moments, you commanded attention. It was infuriating how easily you pulled his focus away from everything else. He was here for an alliance, not to be distracted by a woman who was clearly dangling him like a child’s toy. What infuriated him even further was, he didn’t think you’d meant for this to occur at all. He was falling into a trap all of his own making, tormented by his own desires. Your simple presence doused those flames. Who needed enemies when his own lust was doing the work.

As he caught you stretching your neck, clearly tensed and in pain after having to run around and manage the affairs of the household as well as the work that should have been your lord husband’s, he could not stop himself from wanting to reach out and ease that burden for you. He wanted to ease all your burdens truth be told…

He closed his eye and took in a deep breath to steady himself. No, you were not the one he was here to court, at least not beyond courting an alliance.

Floris, the youngest, at least didn’t waste his time. She barely spoke at all, her fear of him palpable. Every time he caught her looking at him, she would quickly avert her gaze, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. At dinners, she sat in near silence, her eyes fixed on her plate, only daring to glance up at him when she thought no one was looking.

Floris was undeniably beautiful, he noted one night at dinner—delicate features, soft dark hair, and a quiet grace that set her apart from her more eager sisters. She had a certain fragility, the kind that made her seem as though she might shatter under the weight of his gaze alone.

As he had expected, the moment their eyes met, alarm crossed her expressions. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she quickly averted her eyes, her hands fidgeting, fingers trembling ever so slightly.

Aemond allowed a moment of silence before speaking, his voice low and steady. “Lady Floris, you’ve barely spoken all evening.” Floris was startled, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes flickered up to him for the briefest moment before falling back to her lap. “I... I didn’t wish to intrude, my prince,” she stammered.

He leaned forward ever so slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Do I frighten you, Lady Floris?” Her eyes darted to him again, wide and filled with anxiety, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. Aemond leaned back, feeling more indifferent than curious now.

Floris was beautiful, yes, but her beauty was fleeting to him. It lacked depth. His mind wandered, almost involuntarily, to you. How could he think of Floris when her stepmother sat just across the table, quietly capturing his eye without ever saying so much as a word?

You were something else entirely—your beauty had a sharpness to it, a confidence, a power that Floris sorely lacked. You knew your worth and how to wield it, and it was the graceful way you held yourself that lingered in his thoughts far longer than Floris’s timid presence ever could.

You took no note of him this time, too engrossed in conversing with your bannermen Ser Byron. Aemond couldn’t explain why the sight of you leaning towards him and talking in whispers with the man set the hair on the back of his neck on fire. That closeness with another man was not appropriate of an unmarried woman, he bitterly opined.

He was glad when Ser Byron had to abruptly leave after a servant delivered him a letter in the middle of dinner. But the hurried steps the knight took also arose his suspicions about the letters contents. “Has something happened?” he had asked you as he watched Swann leave, you simply dismissed it as some trivial dispute among your staff that needed mediating. He said nothing but did not think to take your word as it was.

Like a moth to a flame he sought you out once more as you walked back to your chambers. Sensing he was following you with quiet, almost hidden footsteps you abruptly spoke up “You seem troubled, my prince,” smiling at him as you stopped in your tracks and turned around towards him, “Are my stepdaughters proving too much for you to handle?”

“They are persistent,” Aemond replied, his tone carefully neutral. That earned him the first real, open laugh he had heard out of you. “Yes I suppose that is one way to put it. Are you still as adamant on marriage with one of them after meeting them or have we finally deterred you?”

The prince stuck out his chin most stubbornly, “I still intend to secure the alliance if that is what you ask.” That caused your smile to falter as you shook your head and turned towards your chambers, “of course you do.” Here you were delighted at one light moment with the dark prince, but Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not steadfast.

“Your persistence could almost give theirs’ competition.” You teased before leaving.

Aemond’s patience was bound to eventually run its course. For days, he had watched you receive messages, carried in by suspicious birds, and each time you’d dismissed his inquiries with vague answers and a smile that only fuelled his frustration. After receiving a letter from his grandsire demanding to know his progress, he realised he had very little to show for his time here and decided he had been played with quite enough. Tonight, he had no intention of being so easily brushed aside.

He strode through the corridors, his jaw clenched, his boots striking hard against the stone floor. Without hesitation, he pushed open the heavy door to your chambers. Inside, you sat on an ornate desk, your husband’s, a letter in hand, with your gaze flicking up to meet his slowly. You didn’t flinch, didn’t move. You merely raised an eyebrow, as though his intrusion was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Prince Aemond,” you greeted scornfully, not attempting to hide your displeasure at his unannounced entry, “You enter, insolently, without permission. I hope you have an urgent excuse behind such an incursion on my privacy?”

“Enough of your games, Lady Y/N,” Aemond snapped, his voice dangerous as he advanced toward you. “I’ve seen the ravens, the messages you’ve been receiving. Do not insult me by pretending I do not know who they are from.” He spat out.

You remained still, your expression unreadable as you took your time to set the letter aside. "And who, pray, do you imagine my correspondents to be?” you refused to match his tone, carefully keeping yourself in check.

“The bitch mother of bastards – Rhaenyra” Aemond hissed her name like it was a curse. “You’ve been stringing me along, all this while sending your little birds to her. I won’t be made a fool, not by you.”

Your eyes flashed at the accusation, but your voice remained steady, cutting. “Foolishness is something one brings upon oneself, Your Grace. If you feel such, do not lay the blame at my feet.”

The prince’s temper flared, and he walked forward in a swift stride, his presence filling the room with barely contained fury. He pressed his fingertips on your dark oak desk, to imposingly lean forward towards where you sat. If the feeling of looking up at a furious dragonlord pressing down upon you made you scared at all, you didn’t show it. “Do not make the mistake to think I am unaware of your little schemes. Keeping me here, playing coy while you weigh your options. But I warn you, Y/N—”

You took a breath, your chin lifting as you met his gaze head-on,  interrupting his little speech “You warn me?” Your voice dropped, deadly calm, as you slowly rose from where you sat to match his stature. “And what will you do, Aemond? Bring your dragon down upon me? Burn Storm’s End to ash because I don’t bend to your will?”

Aemond’s lips twisted into a cold smile, his voice softening into something more dangerous. “You think I won’t?” This was not a man who would let insults go unanswered.

You were the storm’s daughter too though, not one to back down at the first sight of strong winds. “Burn it down if you wish, but it will not win you the Stormlands. It will not win you this war.”

You stood only inches apart now, close enough for you to feel him breathing down on you. Aemond’s eye narrowed, his anger palpable as he spoke, each word laced with cruel intent. “It would be nothing more than rubble if I wished it, and you, Lady Baratheon, would be nothing more than a forgotten name in the ashes.”

Your eyes blazed with fury, never leaving his as you sidestepped the table to stand next to him. “You think threats will bend me? That I am some weak-willed lady who’d cower before your dragon’s mere breath?” Your voice was sharp, holding back a tidal wave of anger. “I am no stranger to men like you, men who believe they can brandish fear like a sword.” After all, Borros had tried to break you and failed, you had prevailed over him. Your son was your victory. Now your husband laid six leagues under the ground while you sat on his seat. If Aemond Targaryen thought he could break you, he would be proven wrong too. “Know this—Storm’s End will stand long after you and your beast are dust. Dragon fire or not.”

They were too close, the air around them crackling with the force of their anger. For a moment, neither spoke, their eyes locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to give an inch. The heat between them had shifted, it had become something trecherous, as Aemond’s gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes.

Without warning, the tension snapped.

Aemond moved first, his hand gripping your arm as he pulled you to him, his mouth crashing down onto yours with a force born of fury as much as lust. You responded in kind, your fingers grabbing onto his leather coat as you kissed him back with equal fervour, both of yours’ anger feeding the fire that had long been building between you.

Aemond’s hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers almost clawing at your soft skin. Your hand instinctively bawled itself around the leather beneath it, pressing your body impossibly close to his.

It was not a kiss of tenderness, but of conquest, a desire ignited by the very battle that raged between you —fierce and unrelenting. Neither of you attempted to be gentle, perhaps being rough and demanding was just in both yours’ natures.

Aemond only broke the kiss to knock down the various trinkets that had been occupying the late Lord Baratheon’s desk, to then lift you with ease and make you sit atop it. You felt guilty at destroying your late husband’s things so callously as you caught sight of the now broken, spilled ink bottle on the floor, when the thought of how Borros had never even bothered to learn how to read to actually make use of the thing, made it disappear. Besides the dragon prince did not leave you much time to have thoughts anyway. His mouth was soon upon yours once again, as he parted your legs to make space for himself between them.

When his cold hand suddenly slipped underneath your heavy black dress, you couldn’t suppress a gasp at the feeling, which he used to slip his tongue inside you, deepening the kiss. The feeling of his hand trailing up your thigh made the hair on the back of your arms stand. Your hand found its way to the prince’s perfectly kept up hair, entangling themselves in his silver locks in knots, as if you wanted to ruin it, ruin him. When you tugged at his tresses sharply, you caused him to growl into the kiss, a sound which made you deliciously crave for him.

It seemed you had called forth some beast in that act though, for Aemond abandoned your lips entirely and the hand on your thigh moved towards your core, starting to remove your small clothes. In your own impatience, you helped him guide the cloth down till it was off of you, your hand then moving to undo his breeches with hurried fingers.

You gasped at the feeling of having his length in your hand, it had been a long time since you’d felt anything similar, having been widowed many moons ago. You spat in your hand to use it as moisture before you pulled on his manhood firmly, feeling your cunt become warm and wet at the very feeling of having him in your palm. Aemond’s breathing had become more ragged, responding to your actions. His hand found your neck, pressing itself around the frail little thing till you saw stars and the movement of your hand became sloppy, but you never once told him to stop. Your head titled back as if transported off Storm’s End to a world altogether new in pleasure. When his hand finally released you, you coughed back to reality, and your hand stilled.

His hands moved to your shoulder as he pulled himself to your ear to breathe down, “I don’t remember telling you you could stop, Lady Baratheon.” His words left you on edge and you swallowed, quickly nodding as you continued to move your hands over his now hardened length. He gave you a twisted smile, as his hand faintly pulled your hair stands away from your face, “You look more suited to play this obedient servant of the crown than that feeble attempt at playing the lord of the castle you have been doing, my lady.”

Even if your brain could have managed to come up with some biting remark for him, the sudden invasion of two of the prince’s spindly fingers inside your pussy cut those thoughts out. “Seven hells” you cussed out at the feeling. Aemond hummed approvingly at your response. His free hand found itself pulling on the gown as it draped over your shoulders, tearing the cloth with a screech so it would expose to him your bare shoulder.

His lips moved over the uncovered, soft skin of yours with gentleness which contradicted the brutal pace at which his hand moved against the walls inside you. It seemed he wanted to torture you with his pace, tease you just as much as punish you for how you had been holding out on him since he had arrived. Aemond Targaryen demanded nothing if not complete control, and you had taken that from him the moment you had met him. Such a treasonous act demanded retribution.

You felt a sharp pain when his lips against your skin were replaced by his teeth, biting hard enough to leave the place blue for the next day, but not content with letting you adjust to just that, he also placed another finger inside you in that moment, overwhelming you with sensations.

“Aemond—” you gasped, only to have him command you, “you do not yet have the leave to call me by name. if you’re forgetting your manners, we can cease this now” “no!” the negation tumbled out of your mouth embarrassingly fast, the feeling of his fingers moving inside you having caused all your previous haughtiness and resolve to disappear. “Your Grace—” You corrected yourself, “—I think… I think I’m” before you could get the word close out of your mouth, you found yourself suddenly empty, his fingers removed.

You didn’t know if you had it in you to beg him to fuck you, but thank the gods you didn’t have to go that far. For it only took a moment for Aemond to replace his hand with his cock, filling you in one go till tears formed in your eyes. He mercilessly filled you till there was nothing left but the tight of feeling your walls squeezing around him. “When was the last time you were properly fucked, hm? Did fat old Borros Baratheon even fill this cunt half way?” He taunted you, but you could merely moan in reply, your mind clouded.

He emptied you and let manhood hit you to the tilt once more in a swift action, knocking the wind out of you, your mouth hanging open in a silent gasp. Aemond did not prepare you for his pace by starting slow, but instead pulled out and pulled back inside of you with the full force of his length till your fingers grabbed the edge of the desk beneath you for some kind of support. His hips moved at a brutal pace, his hands holding onto your legs to keep you in place, to keep you open for him. You hadn’t been fucked in so long, to be filled like this repeatedly was too much for you. You shook your head and tried to keep a hand on his chest, “slower, please… your grace…” your breathed, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“shhh” in an act of uncharacteristic tenderness, Aemond pulled you to himself till your chin rested on his shoulder, his hips never ceasing their assault. “not yet.” You whined at his denial, tears starting to run down your cheeks, but you did not reject him. He continued to touch your sensitive spot with each thrust, and you simply took it, almost helpless in your obedience.

“How docile, how sweet…” he cooed. He liked this, for the first time since Vhagar had landed in these lands he had felt a sense of control. It wound him up more than anything else, to have you in his hands, for the first time his plaything, rather than the other way around. The way he could elicit your face to distort in pleasure, cause you to give up that stature of authority and move as he commanded, made him harder than he thought possible.

The way your breathing had become more rapid and your walls were closing in around him, he knew you couldn’t this take much longer, and so he finally allowed, “Let yourself come on your prince’s cock, Y/N” You curled your toes at the pleasure surmounting, your mouth unable to stifle a cry as you came around his cock. Your cum streamed down your thighs, ruining the dress you wore in the process.

The act had left you too tired to even sit up, you collapsed till your back hit the wood of the desk as Aemond continued to chase his high inside you. You could only whimper at the feeling, till you felt his cock twitch and unburden itself inside you, your mind too numb to protest.

As Aemond pulled out of you, you closed your eyes attempting to even out your breathing and calm your heart. Your mouth had gone dry and an ache had formed between your legs from the vigour of the prince’s pace.

The sound of the prince’s leaving steps sounded across the room till the door he had brazenly pushed open earlier, shut close shut behind him. Once you were alone you finally opened your eyes and sat up on the table.

As you walked over to the washbasin your servants had placed in the corner, to splash water to cool down the fire the prince had ignited within you, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. Dishevelled hair, torn clothes and flushed cheeks. This wasn’t how you’d expected your negotiations to leave you.

Aemond was up at the crack of dawn, despite the little sleep he had received the night before, his body too set in its routine to allow him to sleep in. He’d remained distracted all morning though, from his usual training to breakfast, his mind still buzzed from the night before— with you.

His thoughts lingered on the memory of your body pressed against his, the taste of your lips still vivid in his mind. Truth be told such thoughts had barely allowed him to sleep, he had to do everything in his power to restrain himself from marching down to your chambers to have you once again. Come morning, it seemed his feet had made up their own mind as they carried him to the grand hall where you broke fast every morning, determined to speak to you. But speak to you about joining the war, or joining him, he wasn’t sure as he took strong steps towards those stone gates, until a shaky, scared servant reluctantly blocked his way with bowed head.

“Prince Aemond,” the servant began cautiously, “Lady Baratheon is indisposed this morning.” That gave him pause. Now that he looked around, there seemed to be more activity around the castle, it was certainly peopled with more men than usual. There was something different in the air, you were up to something. The servant carried on stammering “She-she re-regrets that she is unable to see you, but she extends the c-c-courtesy of allowing you to escort one-one of her stepdaughters for the day….should you wish.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened at the message, his eyes narrowing slightly. It wasn’t the refusal that stung—he had known you would be up plotting, woman of action as you are —but the implication that he should entertain one of your stepdaughters instead. His mind briefly flickered to Floris, Cassandra, Maris, and Ellyn—each dull and uninspiring in their own ways. None of them possessed your sharpness, your strength. His patience for their company had worn thin days ago, and now, after the night he had shared with you, the thought of spending an entire day with one of them felt intolerable.

“Which of the ladies would you prefer to accompany today, m-m-my prince?” the servant asked, still refusing to meet his eye. Aemond barely suppressed a sneer. “None,” he stared at the closed gate ahead of him. He wondered what you were doing behind those doors, wondered if you were mulling over his proposal or planning how to betray him to his half-sister. He wanted to know how you were thinking of this situation, how your mind would tick at the facts before it. He wanted you. He placed one hand on the stone gate, feeling the cool surface beneath his palm. You were so close to him, almost within his reach.

Yet, he thought as with decisive steps he turned around and started to walk away, so far.

He spent the day inspecting the grounds, trying to gauge the situation. He understood soon you’d called your bannermen to counsel you, but which way they would sway you remained unknown.

He mulled over the previous night in his mind often, no matter how much he tried to deny how he felt with you, he had to admit you had awoken something in him. You were unlike any woman he had seen – someone bold, someone who challenged him. You had surrendered in the end, but not without making him work for it. It had been a hollow victory, one that left him dissatisfied and wanting for more.

As the day wore on Aemond found himself restless. The usual routine of the castle felt stifling, and your absence only deepened his bitterness. By nightfall, his frustration had grown, it was perceptible in the way he stared into the fire, sitting in his chambers, waiting for news.

A soft knock at the door of his eerily quiet chambers alerted him. Aemond straightened, his brow furrowing as he rose to open it. Beating him to it, to his surprise, you opened it without invitation, dressed in nothing but a white, silk nightgown. The firelight flickered behind him, casting a warm glow across your features.

Your lips curved into a faint smile, “I hope I’m not disturbing you, my prince,” you teased. Aemond’s gaze lingered on you in a suspicious manner, his expression unreadable. “You rarely come without purpose, my Lady. What is it tonight?”

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you as you moved further into his chambers. “After much consultation with my bannermen,” you began, your voice steady with a note of finality, “I have made my decision.”

He was intrigued as he matched your steps to meet you half way across his chambers, agitated to hear this “And what have you decided?”

 “Storm’s End will declare for King Aegon.”

Aemond’s chest tightened, his thoughts racing as he processed your announcement. He had done it, finally done it. He had brought you to his brother’s side, fulfilled the promise he had made to his mother and grandsire. He had proven himself worthy. He would not be the son who shirked duty like his brother, no, he would be considered the one who stepped up when his family needed him most. His chest swelled in self-pride at the thought.

But there was something more to it of course, he thought as he saw how your eyes followed his every move, as if attempting to pierce through him and grasp his soul. He had to be in your debt for this, he knew that. He wasn’t sure how well he could have done at his task had you made up his mind against him. “The crown will not forget your loyalty” his leather boots took the final steps to close the gap between you both, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you to his chest. He stared down at you as he added in a whispered voice “…and I’m certain it will find a way to express its immense gratitude.”

You words were raspy as you answered staring up at him, captivated. “Consider it a reward for your… persistence.” He hummed in response, bending just a little so his lips were at level with yours, never touching but hovering like phantoms.

Your own lips curved upwards as you began to comment with a hint of amusement “My stepdaughters will be waiting with bated breath, eager to hear which one of them you’ll choose as your bride.”

Aemond’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, he turned his head so his nose grazed your neck as he took in your scent, his breath tickling your skin. “Any suggestions to make my choice easier? You do know them better than anyone.” He muttered against you, before pressing his lips to your ear lightly.

You tilted your head thoughtfully, allowing him access to your neck, trailing kisses down it.  “Cassandra is the eldest,” you began dryly. “But she’s air-headed, always prattling on about nonsense. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sensible word out of that one.”

Aemond chuckled softly, as he considered your words. “And the others?” he baited you to go on, his hands starting to lift your sheer nightgown to allow his fingertips to graze your thighs.

“Maris is clever,” you continued, your breathing hitched at his actions though there was a flicker of exasperation in your voice as you added “Too clever, sometimes. That girl never learned the art of silence. Always chattering, always thinking she knows better.” You sighed, your expression shifting to mild disdain. “Ellyn is dull. Always whining about something—nothing ever pleases her.”

Aemond arched a brow, smirking, finding your frankness far more entertaining than the thought of any of these girls. “And Floris?”

You laughed softly, a melodic sound that carried a trace of mockery. “Floris is beautiful, yes. But she’s already scared half to death by the mere sight of you.” Your eyes flicked to his face, and before he could react, you lifted your hand and reached toward his eyepatch, smitten. “I wonder why that is...”

Your fingers brushed the edge of the leather patch, but before you could go any further, Aemond’s hand shot up, gripping your wrist firmly. He pulled your hand away, his gaze dark and intense as he leaned closer. “And you, my lady?” he asked, his voice low, a dangerous edge to it. “Are you no longer scared?”

Your lips parted slightly, and your heart raced as you stared up at him, unflinching. A slow, wicked smile spread across your face. “You could not scare me if you tried,” you murmured, goading him.

In a flash Aemond had pulled you to him by grabbing your wrists. He wrapped his long, slender fingers around those dainty things, and pulled them behind himself, till you crashed into his lips.

With your body held captive like this you felt as if this was the prince taking his war prize in advance of the actual battle. His lips left no room for you, gave you no quarter. You weren’t protesting much about the abduction though. The prince may conduct himself as an aloof noble, a dragonrider who was above mere mortals in public, but when alone like this, you’d realised he showed a hunger of a poor man, a man denied, who was searching for his redemption.

He only released your hands to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his thin torso for dear life as he swiftly carried you to the bed, your lips refusing to leave his even as your arms hung around his shoulders for anchor. It was only when he threw your back to the mattress that he broke the kiss. You realised the prince was already hurrying with untying the strings which held his breeches, an impatience within him.

He used his knee to pry open your legs, making room for himself between them as he took his cock out in his hands and helped himself, looking down on the site of you sprawled all out for him, in just a sheer nightgown. Hair all over the place, legs open and ready to receive him. He mused with the hint of a smirk, how the mighty, commanding lady Baratheon had been reduced to this state.

You could feel his gaze upon you as if dragonfire itself, but you refused to turn away. You looked into his face, the expression of fervour in his eyes. He had you under him, in every way possible, and you knew he was relishing in that feeling. He had his army, and he had the woman.

You, on the other hand, were far more discreet in your sense of achievement. After the day of discussions you had had, the terms you and your bannermen had drawn up, you knew that the crown would not get the Stag for cheap. But you were happy to let them enjoy in this victory before you presented your full terms, after all a content prince was probably easier to haggle with than an irked dragonrider.

Yet still, the thought popped in your head as the prince leaned forward to enter you, pressing you beneath his weight, you didn’t have to give up all your sense of control. Your legs hooked around him, and your palms pushed at his shoulders to flip you both.

“You are our guest under this roof. Allow me, my prince.” Your voice sounded more as if you were taking charge, than acting the welcoming host. Last night he had been the one to make you feel helpless, and as much as you had enjoyed the feeling, you weren’t one to take what came at you lying down either.

You were the one looking down at him now, his silver hair covering the white sheets till the colours melted under the moonlight, his expression remained distrustful, still reluctant to allow himself to be beneath you, give you the reins this once. You didn’t want to allow him to dwell on that feeling and change your positions. You wasted no time in lifting yourself up and gathering your nightgown till it pooled around your stomach, taking his length in your hand and positing it with your cunt.

If the prince was going to protest, those words left him as soon as your warmth sunk down on him. He grunted as his head titled back in pleasure, your eyes unable to leave the sight of him as you yourself bit down on your lower lip at the feeling of the initial insertion.

“Sīr ȳrda” so tight, he let out through gritted teeth as his hands found your hips, though you were unable to understand his ancient tongue you took it as encouragement. You placed your palms on his chest for support as you rolled yourself on his cock, feeling him hit your spot with every move. You hadn’t been this bold with your late husband, who would visit you every second day to pump himself in you with a few thrusts and leave once he was satisfied. You would have never had the liberty to take him on like this, riding atop him, chasing your pleasure impaling yourself on such a cock.

You kept your movements slow, with little experience in such a position you didn’t think you could take faster snaps before becoming overcome. The prince had already displayed his aversion for patience though.

His hands moved to snake themselves around your waist fully as he sat up, “allow me, my lady” he almost mockingly threw your words back at you, with an almost sadistic half-smile. He lifted you slightly before thrusting himself upwards at you, quicker each time. You drew in a sharp breath at the feeling of becoming filled so fast, again and again and again. You refused to give him the satisfaction of telling him to slow down this time though, simply bracing yourself to take him.

Still subconsciously looking for some semblance of control, your fingers found his hair. you couldn’t help yourself from clutching at his long locks, jerking his face to jut out his chin. He grunted lowly in response, his hand coming down on your buttocks suddenly with a loud smack as punishment. You whimpered at the sensation; in pleasure or pain, you weren’t sure. Your eyes wandered to the pale skin of his neck, how it glistened with sweat under the moon. You pressed a kiss to it, tender, trailing up to his lips as you felt your thighs becoming feeble with his every movement. You moaned as you kissed him fully, your tongue slipping inside his mouth.

You felt his fingertips slip under your nightgown and trail up and down your back almost affectionately, but his cock hit your walls so mercilessly you could feel a throbbing ache. He was a storm of contradictions, Prince Aemond. Just when you thought you could understand him, he would turn everything upside down.

He gave you agony and satisfaction in such an equal measure, your body had become mush, acting only on his unsaid whims. He broke the kiss to gaze upon your serene face, twisted from the bombardment of sensations. “Do you swear–” he thrusted into you, “—fealty–” another thrust, “–to your prince?”

You were so close now, you could feel it, your nails were digging themselves in his skin, breaking it. You couldn’t answer him in your haze, which caused him to slap your bare buttocks once more, “yes” you immediately replied with a gasp.

“My prince I’m close… Aemond…” Aemond’s hand reached to hold your face in his hand as you could feel that wave of pleasure about to crash, “come undone for me, y/n” he whispered in your ear, which broke the dam for you.

You chanted his name as you came, feeling him reach his peak in your walls soon after. Somewhere far in your mind you had the thought to obtain some moontea the next day, seeing as you had allowed the Targaryen inside you twice now, but in that moment, you pushed such things aside. You sat together, you stradling his lap, him still inside you, his face pressed to the crook of your neck as he panted lightly with exertion. Your hand reached to brush the hair falling down his back as you sat there, with only the moon to witness your moment of solace.

He finally broke the silence with a hum, pulling you both down to place you next to him in bed, not bothering to pull out of you. “Stay.” His words had the force of an order, but his eyes pleaded a request. You smiled at the fondness he couldn’t bring his tongue to convey but that his expression betrayed. “As you wish.” You felt no hurry to leave his side either, you realised.

The soft light of dawn filtered into the room, casting a pale glow across the stone walls. Aemond stirred, the warmth of the bed a stark contrast to the chill in the air. His hand stretched out to find you missing from his side. He looked around the room, and didn’t allow his face to disclose the relief he felt when he saw you were still with him. You stood in your nightgown, staring out the window in silent contemplation.

Aemond sat up, as you turned to face him, realising that your expression was at ease, but there was a trace of calculation behind your eyes, as though the events of the night before were already giving way to something more pragmatic.

“We need to work out the details of the treaty,” you stated as a morning greeting, stepping away from the window and crossing the room toward him. “Before the official declaration of Storm’s End for King Aegon, we must solidify the alliance, the exact conditions.” Gone was the sultry Lady Baratheon of the night. In the morning it would be the reigning lady of the house who was meeting him. “And you need to decide which of my stepdaughters it will be.” You matter-of-factly added.

Aemond studied you for a moment. There was no playfulness in your tone now, no teasing—only the cold reality of the marriage alliance that had brought him to your doorstep in the first place.

You were no longer the naïve girl who had held hopes of falling in love with your husband when you had first married. Borros had made sure of disabusing you of that notion. All that stood in place of that girl now was a hardened woman, one who knew fiction from reality. And a prince falling for her was certainly the former. You would get what you needed, security for your son, and Aemond would achieve his objective and marry one of your husband’s pliant girls. You held no grudge against him, you were just interested in moving along with what needed to be done.

He did not share your straightforward view though, because as he considered your words, something else occurred to him, something that made his lips twitch into a faint smirk.

“It occurs to me now,” he began, almost thoughtful, “that my specific instructions were to secure House Baratheon through a marriage alliance. It was never specified that it must be one of Borros’ daughters that I marry.”

Surprise overtook you so fast your face couldn’t hide it under its usual, crafted mask. You watched him in silence for a moment, your brow arching ever so slightly. Did he jest? Or did he mean what you believed he did?

“And what exactly are you suggesting, my prince?” you did not want to bring your hopes up, you had trained yourself not to, yet your measured voice carried an unmistakable edge. A glimmer of hope.

Aemond rose from the bed, his gaze never leaving you. He’d met all four of your daughters and not one of them held his interest for a moment. You though, were intelligent and knew how to hold yourself against him. You wouldn’t be a pretty liability he would have on his arm, but an intelligent counsellor to be at his side through the upcoming war. He recognised the value that would have. In addition to that, even he couldn’t deny the attraction he had for you, how your magnetism pulled him in. He couldn’t resist you if he tried.

So then why try? A voice in his head had dared. Why try, when marrying you would secure the Baratheon’s just as much as marrying any of those silly girls would.

He walked to you, his smirk deepening as he spoke. “I’m suggesting that there may be a more suitable match within House Baratheon than your stepdaughters.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, attempting to suppress a full grin. “An intriguing offer. I would love to see Otto Hightower’s expression when he’s apprised of that.” From what you knew of the Hand, he wasn’t a man who took to surprises warmly. “Leave my grandsire to me.” He assured you as he stretched to place his hands on your arms as a pledge. “All you need to worry about is preparing for your arrival at King’s landing.” He would tell Otto Hightower what he knew to be the truth: having you by his side would bring all of them closer to victory, than the alternative.

A slow smile broke across your face, you stood on your toes to press a quick kiss to him. “As my Prince commands.” You finally answered, your words on their face were an open attempt at fawning at him, but he could sense the oblique pride and challenge that hid behind them. You hadn’t even known how you’d managed it, but even as he stood as the one who had achieved all his aims, you felt like the victor in this arrangement.

[twst-kumi]

Sorry please,my English is not very good ( it's not my mother tongue) it's silly but you can do a headcanon on pregnancy ( from the dorm heads) or an alphabet on either of them!

Don't worry, English is not my mother tongue too. I will consider reader is in a relationship with them and that they are the father. Reader is a girl in the story.

Dorm leader with Pregnant reader

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle would be the most shocked if you were pregnant.

You two were still in NRC. IN SCHOOLS! He knew he should have waited for marriage.

Riddle is worried, and rightfully so. He knows nothing about child care, let alone parenthood. He is scared that he won't be a good father. Or worse. What if he becomes like his mother and repeats the trauma circle?

Reader and Trey will need to be the voice of reason here.

Make sure to assure him that everything is alright.

Riddle will gather EVERYTHING he could get about childbirth and childcare.

He will learn everything from start to end. At this point, he knows more about your pregnancy than you do.

Expect him to be there at every doctor's appointment, even better! HE will make those appointments.

Your doctor would be a bit tired tho...

Riddle will ask him a lot of questions. From your diet, to what is needed for the pregnancy, how to make sure you and the baby will be safe.

Reader will be taken care of like a queen.

You will also have to move to Heartlsabyul. Ramshackle is too rundown and dangerous for you or the baby.

Trey mentioned that Mozart was good for the baby's brain development. Care to try it?

Riddle would spend hours talking and reading to your belly.

Will cry before the first ultrasound you did. It's his child's first picture in a way.

Mood swings with Riddle would be funny. He knows it's because your body changes for the child but it's hard sometimes.

Ace would laugh because this time he is the one who has to walk on eggshells.

If you cry, Riddle will be completely helpless. He would panic trying to make you smile.

The one to take care of your food carving would be Trey. Riddle tried to do it, but some of the things you asked for, were unknown.

I think Riddle would be a little jealous of the other. He would feel a little helpless about the situation. And having to rely on others even though he is the father. He should be the one to take care of you!

This would be where Riddle would see the difference between theoretical and practical knowledge.

Marriage will be expected. He will try to at least get a civil marriage. If you have any religion, he will organize a proper wedding following your beliefs once the baby is born.

Riddle's biggest worry is his mom. He doesn't want her to hurt you or the baby.

Riddle will try to take care of everything for you. He isn't the best at it, but he has the spirit.

BONUS Childbirth :

Poor Riddle would definitely want to be there during the birth.

His poor soul didn't support it.

Riddle would either cry or faint. He is sorry he put you through something so painful and potentially traumatic.

You will have to assure him that you are okay.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona with a pregnant reader could be interesting if he was a Yandere.

Lions kill young cubs (not his) to get the lioness more inclined to bear his cub.

But this isn't a Yandere headcanon. So I will keep this in a drawer.

That doesn't mean he wouldn't try to push Grim a little away. Or bribe convince him to leave you and him alone a little longer.

Leona is the first to know you are pregnant. Way before you do.

Cliché but it's true.

He would not try to tell you directly, so he wouldn't sound too insensitive, but he will insist that you take a pregnancy test

Or even better he will try to convince you to do a blood test. It's more accurate than a stick you pee on.

And surprise surprise, you are pregnant.

Leona can't help but be smug about it. He is the father, and if it wasn't obvious before for some stubborn herbivore or... A particular lizard.

Leona is close to his sister-in-law so he had some experience with pregnancy.

But this time he is the father. And the mother is a magicless human.

Unlike beastwomen, you are more weak. This is what worries him.

The first person Leona asks for advice is his sister. Who is the best to ask about pregnancy if it's not someone who experienced it?

This also means that Falena now knows he will be an uncle.

Leona could hear Cheka rambling happily that he would have a younger cousin to everyone he saw.

If you wanted to keep a low profile during the pregnancy, he is sorry. That would be impossible. Say goodbye to your peaceful days.

You must go with him to meet with your in-laws during the weekend.

Leona is a prince. Even if he is just the second prince, he is still from the royal family. Which means, a lot of regulation, tradition, etc...

Leona's family would happily welcome you and try to make you feel accepted.

During the pregnancy, Leona would make sure to get you everything.

You want chocolate and pickles? Of course! Need a massage? The servants are here for you; if you wish, HE would do it.

While in NRC, expect to stay with him. Leona doesn't want you to strain yourself too much.

He will make sure that Ruggie runs errands for him AND you.

Leona will sleep with a hand on your belly. He will never say it but he loves feeling the baby kick.

Another one who will follow you to your ultrasound.

The royal family has their own doctor. And he is your doctor from now on too. You are his royal spouse after all.

BONUS Childbirth :

It's a known fact, that Leona drinks his respected woman's juice every morning.

Well after childbirth? He drinks it morning and night.

Seeing you endure so much pain just because you love him, made him feel even more in love.

Leona could never do what you did.

You are weak compared to beastwomen, but even more brave. As expected of his future wife.

Leona would cradle the baby carefully next to you. He tried not to show it but you could see the small smile on his lips.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul would be another one shocked. He almost spit his ink.

Floyd and Jade would congratulate and tease him.

It was unexpected but Azul is happy about it.

Don't worry about the future, he saved enough money to care for you and the baby.

For your carving, he will ask the twins for help. Floyd is having a blast with your funny demand.

Azul will accompany you to your doctor's appointment.

He will have done his research before coming with you. And while Riddle would ask the doctor way too many questions.

Azul just takes notes and asks questions only when needed.

He will take you to look for the baby's clothes and maybe even the furniture.

Mood swing with Azul is a nightmare for him and comedy gold for the Leech twins.

No, you are not fat, just full of love.

You are not ugly! You are the prettiest mother who ever existed.

Azul would watch you with bated breath for any outburst.

Please don't mind the contract he asked you to sign. Mariage contract? Don't mind what was written on it.

Bonus Childbirth

Azul would panic the moment your water broke.

He would come in the room, hold your hand as you are pushing the baby out;

And then?... Nothing.

Azul just fainted, he wasn't even able to hold the baby. The tweels will tease him about it.

Kalim Al Asim

LET'S THROW A PARTY!!!

Kalim is way too happy, and you can tell from Jamil's face that he is losing 5 years of his life.

Kalim has been poisoned and kidnapped a lot since childhood, and now he has to protect you too.

Poor Jamil can't take a break. And now you are overworking him.

You will obviously move to their dorm because now you are under careful watch.

Kalim is just happy and is already preparing a room for the baby.

Tell him what you want, and he will give you EVERYTHING.

Your Carving? Don't worry, Jamil can make them for you.

You want a midnight snack? Kalim would try to do it but would fail miserably. He will have to wake up Jamil to prepare your snack and clean up the mess. poor guy

Meeting with the Al Asim family would be great.

Usually, they would do a long background check and be suspicious of you. But if even Jamil trusts you. Welcome to the family.

Another one who has a private doctor.

Mood swings with Kalim would be impossible.

He is such a sweetheart, you can't get angry at him. Instead, he will smother you with love.

You would feel frustrated by the constant monitoring but it's for your safety.

Bonus childbirth

Kalim absolutely wanted to come with you in the room.

Jamil stopped him, so he had to wait with his family.

He would be anxiously pacing until they were allowed in.

He is the first at your side to look at your baby.

Kalim would cry and laugh proudly. He is a father now.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is happy but also worried. He has always wanted to form a family with you.

But just not this soon. He is an actor so he knows how fans can react.

He wants to be present during every step of your pregnancy but can't.

Vil will keep it as private as possible.

He is not ashamed but it's for your safety.

Vil knows how crazy fans can be, I believe he had some stalker, and you can't tell me otherwise.

Vil would be one of the people who wouldn't cave into your carving.

If he deems it as unhealthy, he will refuse to give it to you.

He will be here for you during your mood swings.

About Vil's dad, I don't think he would mind too much. His son is responsible enough for him to trust Vil's decision. He is also excited to be a grandpa.

Will come with you to your doctor's appointment. He isn't there at every appointment but he tries.

Bonus childbirth

Vil is both in awe and worried. Giving birth is both the most beautiful and strong event he could witness.

He would hold your hand, staying by your side every time

Vil would hold the baby with a tender smile. He doesn't say it but you can see he loves the baby already. It's the most beautiful child.

Idia Shroud

Idia would be happy and MORTIFIED. For him, it's a miracle he was able to pull you.

And now, you say you are pregnant???

He fainted.

Idia is happy but it's too much emotion for him.

He is going to be a father... A FATHER! Idia never thought you would be interested by him, let alone share your blood and have a child with him.

He believes he ruined your life and feel guilty for being happy for it. You will not leave him when you are with his child... Right?

Will ask you if you want to keep the child or not. (Please don't say you don't want it, his heart gonna break.)

You will have to reassure him that you are happy and actually want the baby.

Please hug, Idia! He need a lot of PDA.

Idia will work his courage up, to accompany you.

He will be worried about you and the baby. It's to the point he made something to monitor you and the baby. Or just ask Ortho to keep an eye on you.

Any abnormal change would warrant a panic attack in Idia. He is an overthinker.

Mood swings is a nightmare for both of you.

Idia is an anxious guys, so he would cry.

Any carving you have is like a game where he have to be fast.

His family would welcome you with open arms.

They did a background check, surviving 6 Overblot in a row is incredible. Mind if they study you?

Anyway, you are totally welcomed in the Shroud family.

Don't worry about the wedding after the baby's birth. They will take care of it.

Idia's family is wealthy and he is the heir. So don't spare the details for the baby room.

Bonus Childbirth

Idia would go with you in the delivery room.

I can see him cry like he is the one giving birth.

Poor guy tried to focus on you and only you. Holding your hand tightly, kissing your forehead while whispering encouraging word.

But the moment he glanced at what was happening down there?

He is gone! Idia fainted from horror and shock.

How could you support that? It must hurt!

Did you see the size of his head? He is shocked.

Well was, because he fainted.

Malleus Draconia

I'm going to cheat for this one as I'm planning on doing a Yandere headcanon/one shot involving a pregnant reader. (A personal request of a close friend.)

So I will just link it here.

[linkspooky]

SUKUNA, YOU ARE ME

Now that we're in the last few chapters of Jujutsu Kaisen it's time to do a deep dive into Yuji and Sukuna's relationship. Is what Yuji showing Sukuna here truly empathy? Does Sukuna's death and Yuji's attempt to reach out mean Sukuna was human all along? We'll discuss that, the parallels between this and Mahito, and what Sukuna's exit means for both himself and Yuji as characters underneath the cut.

I AM YOU

While this post is about the connection between Yuji and Sukuna, I'm going to say the majority of this post will be about Yuji. I stated this in a previous post, I don't believe Yuji's showing Sukuna empathy here. While his offer to let Sukuna live inside of him may be genuine, it doesn't come from a place of genuine understanding. Sukuna himself isn't written as a character to be understood or empathized with.

Look at the words Yuji said. "You are me." He's not saying he's like Sukuna, he's saying Sukuna is like him. He is projecting himself onto Sukuna. Everyone in the story does, even Kashimo and Gojo who both considers themselves the strongest of their time and who naturally should have been able to understand the isolation of being someone as incomprehensibly strong as Sukuna were just projecting their own personal experiences on them in the end.

Of course we could dig a little deeper on the topic.

How much can one person truly understand another? It doesn't have to be a curser, or a borderline incomprehensible deity like Sukuna. How much do you understand your own best friend?

Gojo mentions that he felt loved by everyone, but also that he was so beyond their understanding that they may as well have been plants in comparison to him.

Of course, Shoko herself says that Shoko was always right there next to Gojo trying to offer him support and Gojo just chose to keep her at an arm's length. Gojo also believed that only someone as equally as powerful as him like Sukuna could understand him. Only to find that Sukuna didn't care about Gojo's feelings of isolation at all, nor was he troubled by love in the least.

Gojo makes himself out to be someone so superior to other human beings that he's beyond their comprehension, but that's Sukuna. Gojo did feel understood once, by Geto in his youth. The thing was that Gojo assumed that Geto could understand him because they were both euqal in power level. However, years after the fact when Gojo has long surpassed Geto, their friendship remains exactly the same.

The one that Gojo pictures patting him on the back is adult Geto, not teenage Geto. The one who Gojo truly would have been satisfied by in the end was Geto, not Sukuna.

So maybe what makes Sukuna so impossible to understand by others is that same reason why Shoko can't be close to Geto. Sukuna can't be understood by others because he doesn't care to be understood by them.

Perhaps, understanding isn't the end all be all of human connection. Gojo accepted Geto, and he didn't accept Shoko. Maybe Shoko would have been able to understand Gojo if Gojo ever tried to be emotionally open with her the ever way he was with Geto then he might have felt understood.

Then there's Ryomen Sukuna who rejects love and every notion of humanity along with it.

Therefore empathy means nothing to Sukuna. Yuji's empathy in particular. No, Yuji's attempt to save Sukuna is more about himself than Sukuna. It's a reflection of a change of Yuji's state of mind that he's willing to accept living with a curse like Sukuna. That he'd even try to understand Sukuna. Curses that Yuji previously dismissed as not even being worth understanding.

The first time Yuji said these words was when Yuji tried to make an offer to Sukuna to let him take control of his body in order to heal Junpei, in order to be laughed at by Sukuna. It was the last time Yuji ever asked anything of Sukuna.

Remember, in the very beginning of the manga Sukuna seemed like a standard inner demon character like the nine tails, or hollow ichigo. Yuji even thinks he can use Sukuna to switch out to help fight for him like against the special grade cursed spirit. However, we and the audience quickly learns that not only is Sukuna not just some evil half of Yuji, or a convenient power up, he's an actively malevolent entity with a will that will do anything to escape.

When Yuji realizes that Mahito and Sukuna are both curses, he starts to see Sukuna as an enemy trapped within him. Something he's reminded of again and again, especially after the Shibuya Massacre. From that moment Sukuna and Mahito become like villainous foils to Yuji, the dark to his light, the enemy for him to kill.

Yuji defines Mahito and Sukuna as his opposites and his enemies By killing them, he also gives himself a role. It's Sukuna and Mahito's actions in taunting is the first time Yuji uses the language "kill" when dealing with curses.

Mahito compared himself to Yuji and by saying as a curse he mindlessly kills humans. The same way that Yuji as a sorcerer, mindlessly kills curses. They are on the opposite side of the same cycle with no end in sight.

Yuji decides to embrace this violent cycle because it at least gives him a role to play. If curses are the shadow of humanity, if they're a reflection of humanity then what exactly is you saying here?

Yuji says he is Mahito, and then immediately that he's going to kill Mahito. It's not a statement of self acceptance, or accepting your shadow, but rather a statement of self destruction. Even though Mahito is a chaotic evil curse who enjoys killing humans, Yuji's decision to throw away his humanity just for the sake of killing him isn't a healthy way.

When Mahito said "You are me" he was attempting to drag Yuji down to his level. Yuji then willfully descends to Mahito's level as long as it gives him the strength to kill Mahito. It's character regression on his part. Yuji once said he didn't want to kill because then the value of life might become vague to him.

In a way it did, because Yuji began to devalue his own life. Yuji wasn't able to see any meaning in his life besides a "role' that someone else assigned him. Not only was he willing to throw it away at the drop of a hat, but he also didn't feel like he had permission to live.

Unlike Yuta who actively sought affirmation from others, Yuji rejected that affirmation and tried to push everyone including people like Megumi and Choso away. They were right next to him, but Yuji became unable to accept their love and support.

Yuji is a strange paradox because he presents himself as an all-loving hero who just wants to save as many people as possible, but then you read his dialogue and he's like "I'm just a cog in the machine, I will continue to kill curses until one day I die. Then I'll just be replaced by another cog. There's no meaning at all to this sequence. Life is an endless nightmare."

I'm exaggerating, but underneath Yuji's sweet nature and goofing around, there's this very bleak attitude that his life means nothing except for the labor that he produces, and one day he'll be tossed aside and that's fine because it's what he deserves.

If Yuta seeks self-affirmation, then Yuji is seeking self-destruction. His self-loathing leads him to practically lay his head down on the chopping block and offer his neck up for execution by Higuruma's domain during the fight with Higuruma, even when Higuruma himself points out that Yuji isn't the one at fault because he wans't in control of his own body. Yuji will still take the blame, anything to punish himself further.

So, the words Yuji uses in his triumph against Mahito also signify the destruction of his own ego. That is what Yuji does when he adapts his cog mentality, he denies his own sense of self.

What Yuji experiences is basically a prolonged ego-death.

Ego death is a "complete loss of subjective self-identity".[1] The term is used in various intertwined contexts, with related meanings. The 19th-century philosopher and psychologist William James uses the synonymous term "self-surrender" and Jungian psychology uses the synonymous term psychic death, referring to a fundamental transformation of the psyche.

I brung up Ego-Death in the Jungian context, but in Yuji's case, resigning himself to being a cog is also an act of self-surrender. Yuji basically moves away from all of his previous ideals. He only sees himself as a tool to kill curses. Saving others, or helping guide others to a natural death, those things get put on the back burner as a tool doesn't need ideals.

He's abandoned all kinds of idealism and higher reasoning. In fact that is what Mahito wanted him to do, to abandon the higher reasoning that belongs to human beings and act on instinct like a curse. Mahito successfully pushed Yuji to abandon human reason and become an unthinking cog.

Jung defines the Ego-Death as the stripping away of everything else to revert to your natural self. According to Ventegodt and Merrick, the Jungian term "psychic death" is a synonym for "ego death":

In order to radically improve global quality of life, it seems necessary to have a fundamental transformation of the psyche. Such a shift in personality has been labeled an "ego death" in Buddhism or a psychic death by Jung, because it implies a shift back to the existential position of the natural self, i.e., living the true purpose of life. 

Megumi also experiences an ego-death over the course of the manga that mirrors Yuji's own when Sukuna takes over his body, soaks his soul to bring Megumi near evil, and then kills Tsumiki. At this point both Yuji and Megumi both lose what were their reasons for fighting. The so-called "dignity obtained by human reason" is lost. After having those reasons stripped away from them and experiencing their ego-deaths both of them surrender control. Megumi becomes helpless and stops trying to fight Sukuna. While Yuji may not seem like he's given up on anything since he keeps trucking along, he too has given up on thinking for himself. Yuji has essentially given up as much as Megumi has, there's just less plot consequences for it.

Either way they are both brought to their lowest point by ego-death, in order to bring them to their lowest point, and make them experience a rebirth of sorts.

The persona in Jung is the face you show the outside world. it's one part of personality, with the other being the shadow. The shadow is the repressed part of peresonality. Just like curses are made up of repressed human emotions that leak out from our collective subconscious. Curses serve as the shadow of humanity collectively, especially Mahito who is made up of everything humans hate and fear about other humans. The physical embodiment of human cruelty.

However, a person can't live without their shadow. There's no such thing as a human without flaws after all, and you don't become a better person just by ignoring your own flaws. The kinds of people who are unaware of their own flaws tend to unconsciously repeat the same mistakes again and again and again.

Yuji despises curses as inhuman monsters that he can slaughter like they're enemies in a video game, but they're like... made of human vices. They are the product of humanity's emotions. Yuji's habit of only looking at the good makes him unaware of both his own shadow, his own shortcomings, and also the darker shades of grey in the world around him.

Megumi and Yuji both are characters who, need to be dragged down to the darkest point of the shadow and forced to confront their own flaws in order to learn about themselves. It's not a coincidence thaT Yuji who puts humanity on such a pedestal is a human and curse hybrid. That his older brother who's shown to be a source of overflowing unconditional love is also a human / curse hybrid, and who Yuji nearly killed because he blindly, obediently decided to kill curses. That Yuji killed two of his other curse / human hybrid brothers in spite of noticing they were different from other curses and had a family bond with each other.

It's not a coincidence that Yuji who puts humanity on such a pedestal devoured the corpses of all of his other brothers the same way that Sukuna ate his own twin in the womb to gain the power to defeat Sukuna.

Yuiji lacks a lot of self-awareness. That's why I've always said he doesn't quite live up to the "all-loving hero" he sees himself as. Savior is just a role that Yuji has adopted in order to give himself a purpose in life, but he falls short of that. The reason that he falls short is ironically that Yuji tries so hard to be superhuman, that he can't forgive himself for having basic human flaws.

It's why "Being a child is not a sin" is such a meaningful line coming from Nanami. In Yuji's eyes being a child is a sin. He constantly blames himself for not being able to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders, for not being able to save everyone by himself even though he's only been a jujutsu sorcerer for a few months.

It's why Yuji gets excited for a moment when Kusakabe mentions that Yuji is developing very fast by sorcerer standards, because he wants to be someone monstrously talented like Higuruma or Gojo - and why he immediately looks so disappointed when Kusakabe says it's not because Yuji is talented it's just because of Sukuna.

Yuji feels an overwhelming amount of responsibility and wants to be a special person who is strong enough to actually carry all that responsibility on his shoulders. That's why I say Yuji isn't a true all-loving hero, because it's more about Yuji's own feelings than the act of saving others. His guilt complex over Sukuna.

His desires to be someone special and meaningful. Yuji wants to be a good person who saves others because it gives YUJI and purpose and it gives YUJI a sense of fulfillment. If you've read Tokyo Ghoul it's like Kaneki's reason for participating in the Anteiku Raid. Not because he genuinely wanted to save others, but because he "was tired of not being able to do a thing."

(I'm keeping the meme panel because it's funny)-

Yuji wants to be strong and wants to be a savior because Yuji feels insecure in himself and loathes himself for his own weakness. However, this pushes Yuji farther away from his goal of saving others and making connections with other people so he can die surrounded by people BECAUSE people empathize with each other over their weaknesses.

Yuji wants to become someone strong and unbreakable who will never falter, never feel pain, and most of all never lose. He basically wants to become Satoru Gojo, but if Yuji were to ever rise to Gojo's level like that just by getting rid of all of his weaknesses he'd fundamentally lose his ability to connect with people the way Gojo and Sukuna have.

Yuji defines himself in strength, and suffering, and always overcoming, but then what is his heart for? He strives to become someone stronger than Gojo or Sukuna to protect his friends, but if he loses his heart that loves and cherishes those friends in the process then what even is the point?

Yuji walks a dangerous road from the culling games up until the Shinjuku incident, into nearly becoming like Mahito or Sukuna in his attempts to be stronger than them. I don't think he was ever in danger of going on a murder spree, but I do think he was risking becoming someone like Gojo.

Gojo made himself a tool for Jujutsu Society for the greater good and look what happened to him in the end. Not only did he die in the line of duty, his corpse was turned into a puppet to use as a weapon against the enemy. He made himself into a monster even when people like Yuta were begging Gojo not to. Yuji was on a similiar path of cutting off all the people who loved him and just becoming a person exploited in both life and death for the greater good.

So what stopped him?

Megumi.

YOU ARE ME.

A few people said that Yuji's abandoning the cog mentality suddenly happened too fast, or felt unearned but I think if you look at the culling games arc from higiruma's fight onwards as a whole it's actually a natural progression.

It all starts with Higuruma and Yuji's conversation:

Higuruma: "You're innocent. You didn't commit that crime." Yuji: "Even so, it's my fault." Higuruma: "Why?" Yuji: "...I see. Itaodri, there still may be a lot of people who are weak like you."

Yuji is someone who loevs humans, but puts humanity as a whole on a pedestal. He loves humanity but hates human weakness, especially his own weakness. Ironic because Higuruma is also someone who became jaded by having to work in the corrupt justice system and was forced to look at human ugliness day after day after day even though he wanted to be someone who valued people for their weaknesses.

Yuji doesn't learn to empathize with human weakness until Megumi's weaknesses are the one he's forced to confront. He doesn't abandon his notion of roles until he's robbed of his roles by Sukuna when Megumi becomes the possessed one instead of him.

Yuji is fine with being a sacrifice for the greater good, but he is not fine with sacrificing Megumi. By knowing exactly what Megumi is going through and wanting to save Megumi from Sukuna's possession, Yuji is in an odd way forced to empathize with himself. Like, it's a double standard on his part that's being challenged. Yuji blames himself for all the people he hurt as Sukuna, but he'd never blame Megumi for letting Sukuna kill tsumuki while possessing his body.

In his refusal to sacrifice Megumi for the greater good, even when Megumi is begging him to do so he rejects the common Ethos that sorcerer's are expendable cogs who are expected to sacrifice themselves and their comrades in the eternal fight against curses for the sake of public safety.

Yuji carries with him this grandiose notion of saving as many people as possible. However, when the option comes to make a sacrifice that would save hundreds of thousands of people from the merger by fighting to kill Megumi instead of save him from Sukuna's clutches Yuji can't do it. Even though Megumi at that point would be a completely willing sacrifice.

Yuji has to abandon his cog mentality to save Megumi, because an unthinking cog wouldn't put Megumi's life over the lives of everyone in Shibuya. A cog, especially a sorcerer would kill that one kid in order to save thousands of lives. Heck, Kusakabe more conservative sorcerer even brings up that argument that everything would have been avoided if Yuji was executed to begin with.

In order to save Megumi, Yuji must also reclaim his own humanity. There's a reason that Nanami, and Nobara, die right before Yuji adopts his cog mentality. Nanami, the most ethical of the first grade sorcerers who tried to teach Yuji to value his own life because he was a child, and Nobara the only kid in the main trio who was a normal person are both representatives of Yuji's humanity.

After losing both Yuji becomes reckless, he stops valuing his own life. As I said far, far bove, Yuji never listened to the advice Nanami gave him that it wasn't a sin to be a child. Yuji has this entire time thought it was a sin just to be weak, just to need the help of other people, just to not be able to accomplish everything on his own.

After Yuji starts reconciling with his own humanity though, he regains his connections to both Nanami and Nobara. Nanami comes back symbolically in the form of Higuruma, someone Yuji tries to encourage to live instead of taking the same suicidal path that Yuji was bent on. Whereas, Nobara herself actually comes back from the dead in time to land the final blow, the same way she reminded Yuji of her presence and that she wasn't alone in the Mahito fight.

Yuji also regains these connections when he's processed the grief for both people. He remembers Nanami and what Nanami left him in a more positive light. In my interpretation the line "I am a sorcerer" refers to Yuji developing a more healthy version of being a sorcerer. That instead of Yuji seeing sorcerers as slaves who have to sacrifice themselves for the greater good like Geto did, Yuji can see the camraderie between sorcerers who fight and put their lives on the line together.

Either way, I think the moment Yuji truly reconciled with the grief of death is sadly enough with Choso's death. If you want proof that Yuji's revelation wasn't rushed, that he didn't skip from point a to point b, then it's right here.

Choso apologizes to Yuji for leaving him ahead of time, and Yuji tells him not to, because Choso was always by his side when he was at his lowest point and that brief time they had together was enough for him.

Yuji's relationships so far have been defined by his fear of losing people. He wants to have a natural death, he wants the other people around him to have good deaths, he doesn't want people to die too early. By focusing on the fear of losing people, he hasn't yet been able to enjoy the time that they were around. However, in this moment he realizes how much Choso meant to him, even if their relationship was brief, and even if it came to an end. Yuji learned you can still love someone even if you inevitably lose them.

This is when Yuji finally accepts mortality and fragility as a part of life.

This is also what Sukuna can't accept. That life is fragile. That life is weak. That life comes to an end. Sukuna's entire goal is to maximize pleasure and live as long as possible, and therefore he's rejected all of the unpleasant parts of reality. Sukuna doesn't want to live in the real world like a human being, he wants to exist only in the world of Jujutsu where he's a god.

This is what Yuji represents to Sukuna, The human vulnerability, and mundanity that he threw away, by literally cannabilizing his own twin and throwing away part of his soul. The part of his soul that Sukuna threw away was taken by Kenjaku, and used as a science experiment to create Yuji. Technically, Sukuna is Yuji's uncle but symbolically Yuji is the twin that Sukuna cast aside. Especially since in this world cursed energy treats identical twins like they are the same person.

Yuji for the longest time tried to do what Sukuna did. Tried to throw his own humanity away so he could be as strong as Sukuna. He literally even ate the corpses of his own brothers.

Yuji and Sukuna are symbolically twins, but Yuji learns to embrace the things that Sukuna threw away. Sukuna threw away his own soul's twin in order to grow strong. He became all powerful in the jujutsu world because he ate his twin and gained an extra pair of arms and a mouth. He's like if Maki chose to kill Mai instead of Mai sacrificing herself for Maki's sake.

Yuji chose companionship with others over power. Sukuna doesn't need others people to satisfy him, and Yuji begs Megumi to come back from the dead because his life would be lonely without him. Yuji doesn't have some noble reason for going this far for Megumi's sake. He's not saving Megumi for the greater good, but because his connection to Megumi is important to him. Because he doesn't want to go through life without Megumi.

Yuji loathes weakness like Sukuna. Yuji desires to be someone special like Sukuna. Yuji has a grandiose sense of self importance like Sukuna. Yuji desires power like Sukuna. Yuji looks down on weak people like Sukuna does, he just condescendingly wants to save them instead of Sukuna who just wants to stomp on them like ants.

Yuji is also literally Sukuna. He was created by an offshoot of his soul. The same way that Sukuna was born with a body perfect for Jujutsu, Yuji was born stronger than anyone his age, and develops at an extreme rate as a sorcerer BECAUSE he was Kenjaku's science project to make the perfect vessel for Sukuna.

They are totally twinsies in so many ways, the only difference in the end is that Yuji learns to value human connection. In Sukuna's book there is no meaning to life, except for the pleasures he pursues as an individual. Therefore Sukuna is the only real person that matters or even exists. The narrator says as much he alone is the honored one, all that exists is his pleasures and displeasures.

In Buberian terms Sukuna only experiences existence and I and It relationships.

Buber's main proposition is that we may address existence in two ways:

The attitude of the "I" towards an "It", towards an object that is separate in itself, which we either use or experience.

The attitude of the "I" towards "Thou", in a relationship in which the other is not separated by discrete bounds.

Sukuna is the "i" and everyone else is an "it." Sukuna is the only real person who exists, and everyone else is just an object for their amusement.

Whereas, Yuji experiences "I" and "Thou" relationships. Yuji learns to see other people as different from himself. Yuji appreciates people as separate entities. While Sukuna gets amusement from his life by treating other people like toys, for Yuji the value in his life comes from the people who have entered into his life in some form. He appreciates the relationships he's formed with people and the memories they've left behind, no matter how brief the time they spent together was.

This is why Yuji's words reach Megumi, because he respects that Megumi feels differently than he does. He doesn't tell Megumi to just suck it up and keep fighting because that's what Yuji would do. He understands that he's a different person than Megumi, and he can't say he understands the grief and pain Megumi is going through right now.

That's Yuji's big revelation, in just a few short months as a sorcerer he's met so many people who left an impact on him. Some of those relationships came to an end early, but that painful ending doesn't negate what they meant to him.

The few months he spent with Choso have value even if it's not the same as the one hudnred and fifty years Choso spent with the rest of his brothers, because Choso supported Yuji when he was at his lowest point. Yuji finally sees that what gave his life meaning was the memories he made with other people while they were alive together. Not the way that they died.

So Yuji is finally willing to let himself exist outside of a role.

That's what he's offering to Sukuna as well. Maybe not empathy or understanding, because if Yuji had truly learned empathy maybe Sukuna might have accepted his offer. No, Yuji is simply willing to offer Sukuna the chance to live alongside him.

Sukuna rejects bonds of all kinds and Yuji is now embracing them. Yuji no longer seeks to annihilate curses because they're a fundamental part of life. Yuji wants to live on with his curses and burdens. He's also willing to give Sukuna a chance to keep living too.

Even Yuji points out that both of them are totally twinsies. Sukuna was born as a curse because he devoured his twin brother in the womb. Yuji was born as a curse because he was created to be Sukuna's vessel. The only way that Yuji is the way that he is is because he was raised as a normal child by his grandfather. If Yuji hadn't then he would have turned out entirely different. It's the same way that Choso became human because of his love for his brothers, even though he was born as a curse human hybrid and tossed aside by Kenjaku as a failed experience.

Yuji acknowledges both his capacity to have turned out like Sukuna if not for his grandfather's sake. This time when he says You are me, he's not saying it to threaten and destroy the person he sees as his shadow. This time Yuji is trying to reconcile with his shadow. He's looking at the person who represents the absolute worst of humanity, and the things he hates about himself and is still willing to give them the chance to keep on living together with him.

When Yuji says "I am you, so I'll kill you" to Mahito, that signals his first step on the road to self destruction.

When Yuji says, "I am you, so I'll save you" to Sukuna, that signals his first step on the road to self-acceptance.

It's Yuji allowing himself for the first time to just exist as a normal person not as the hero of some epic story. He even gave Sukuna that chance too, to just continue living alongisde him, but sukuna rejected it to keep on living as a curse until the end.

So, while Yuji saying "You are me" to Sukuna isn't true empathy, it is Yuji learning to accept himself and his flaws. . Because if Yuji is willing to forgive someone like Sukuna, then perhaps he might just learn to forgive himself.

[culturalsillystine]

This ended up longer than I intended.

Here's a long rant about Zero Day, denial, and finding comfort in your sickness.

.

One of the things that's stuck with us since our first time watching Zero Day is when Cal says something about not being able to cure someone who has nothing wrong with them.

Some people get so deep into their illness that they start to tell themselves, "There is nothing wrong with me." It's self-soothing, in a way. You have nothing to fix if there's nothing wrong, right? And you get sucked further and further into it until it's all you know, so it becomes normal. There's truly nothing wrong with you, because it's your norm, and how could that be wrong?

And then you get worse and worse until something happens. It could be something bad, such as Cal and Andre's case. Something people would usually never consider. But when you're sick, you're sick, and things don't make sense, and it doesn't matter what people would or wouldn't consider. Because you would, and you're normal. There's nothing wrong with you.

That, or you get help. And Andre briefly mentions something, I think it may be before what Cal says? I'm not sure, correct me if I'm wrong. But he mentions something, says that even if they did get caught and got put in counseling or something, they'd get out, and they'd still do it.

And that leads you to wonder, is that true? Is that truly what would happen? Or are they feeling so untouchable and so powerful that they think NOTHING can stop them. Not even professional help.

And we'll never know. That's what I enjoy about Zero Day, there's so much we never know. We just have to trust these two boys who will present you with their truth, not the truth.

We see very little of Cal's family, and what we do see isn't bad. What we see of Andre's is.. conflicting. His family means well, but he's an 18 year old boy who likes guns and doesn't seem to get enough appreciation from his father. It writes itself, really.

We see none of Andre interacting with his peers, we only see Cal during the prom scenes. And the prom scenes are loud and irritating and awkward. He doesn't really try to be social, he takes the next possible chance to go to the only person he really bothers socializing with; Andre.

They're both very sick. Whether it's the same thing, something similar, or something entirely different, who's to say, but they find comfort in each other. They're both rotting away, and it's okay, because it's together. Whether or not it's based in love (platonic or romantic) or a hatred for the world so deep that your vision is blurred by your tears of rage, who knows. You never get to know.

Because the last thing those boys would want is to be vulnerable. Because that means something is wrong. But nothing can be wrong, because you're normal. There's nothing wrong with you.

I hope this makes sense and isn't incoherent.

[demodraws0606]

My thoughts on the latest episode (aka HU IS THE CULPRIT I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL)

Warning : My sassy attitude is not directed towards anyone else, I'm simply amusing myself and also I've only gotten barely 5 hours of sleep god save me.

This is gonna be very long and messy so strap in folks

It's so obviously not Eden or Ace it's painful (idc 'i'll die for my hubris). Not even just because Eden lying and being the culprit after all of that would be both underwelming and just...miserable. But also because of how the way we're getting the reveal in advance that it could only be Ace and Eden. The fact the cast was already on Eden's throat as well just makes this point even more clear to me.

This isn't like fucking Korekiyo in chapter 3 of DRV3, this isn't how a culprit reveal happens. Especially not when there's so much we don't know yet.

So who is the culprit ?

...

It's Hu, it's literally Hu.... and like 1 pourcent chance it's Nico but I think both of them are accomplices here.

The thing is, I don't buy any of the shit Nico is saying, their admission of guilt is strangely quick and detached. They also seem to go along with anything people say about them (like them framing Hu) which makes it even more suspicious, they could've just said they used Hu's weapon out of conveniance ? The only thing this episode has proved me is that Nico is an Active accomplice rather than a Passive one like I thought. For what reason ? I honestly don't know fully yet but again we don't know a lot about Nico anyways.

Hu's behavior really makes me think she did it and is acting out, mostly out of guilt. She seems really stressed this trial which while makes sense for character reasons, it also makes sense if she's the culprit and feeling guilty. It would explain her defending Eden and Nico mainly I think despite her probably being the culprit she doesn't want the perception that Eden/Nico has to be broken (especially not bc of her). I've already explained how Hu being the culprit makes sense from a character perspective so I'm not gonna get more into it.

By the way any arguments in this post being like "it would be out of character for Nico or Hu to do that" should honestly review their own hypocrisy if they think Eden did it, or even Ace for that matter.

Another thing that makes me even more convinced that it can't be Ace or Eden is that...you can't fucking prove any of them did it with 100 pourcent certainty. David fucking threw the BDA rule out of the window, so we can't be sure Eden didn't do it but like what decisive evidence would make it clear between the two of them.

The only pieces of evidence we have left is :

-The sticky ball of clothes (most likely turpentine because the soil of the relexation room would cause the ball to have stains on it)

-The alibi for the relaxation room water

-The missing glove (which I think i've changed my opinion on what it could mean here)

Eden did know about the ball of clothes (but that piece of fucking evidence has strings attached so we'll get to that) and Ace doesn't have an alibi against taking the water like Eden does.

The missing glove is the only evidence left untouched here and honestly I actually don't think it had anything to do with the glove having someone's hair or anything, mainly because first of all the culprit could've technically just removed any hair on the glove even if it was sticky.

And also there's something else that makes more sense.

I think they probably had to use the glove to avoid rope burn while trying to set up the mechanism to kill Arei. Especially with how high the playground's ceilling is, it wouldn't be child's play. I'm not really good at deciphering what could've possibly happenened directly in the murder but I'd argue it's just more likely that the culprit would be put in a situation were rope burn could happen. This murder set up would require a lot of physical effort, and if the culprit even slipped for a second their hands would end up being damaged from rope burn making them obviously look guilty (also ouchie), which I think is what happened.

It would also explain the scuffs on the floor, maybe the culprit was struggling to hold onto the rope leading to them causing marks with their feet while trying to pull on the rope.

The reason why I think the glove is missing is probably because it's damaged and the culprit wanted to avoid the cast knowing they used Arei's glove during the murder. In fact it's the only piece of evidence that is completely missing

But why ?

Has anyone realised something about, I argue, the three other main suspects here ?

Nico, Eden, Ace ?

They all have gloves.

"But a huge portion of the cast has gloves this doesn't mean anything, it's just a stylistic choice !!" Yeah, the majority of the cast has gloves.

I think now you can understand why the culprit wouldn't want the cast to know that the glove was used. Because if the cast did see the glove that was probably damaged, they would assume the culprit wore it and it would narrow down the suspect list to an extremely narrow pool. This forces them to basically take the glove and hope to fucking god the cast doesn't catch on which they clearly haven't yet.

You know who doesn't fucking wear gloves.

HU JING

My girl got no gloves on !!!!

So yeah, with the glove being untouched evidence yet I think it will be the main decisive thing to point out who the culprit truly is, and I just don't think it's just gonna be like "oh let's just search everyone to see which one has the glove !". For all we know the culprit could've fucking eaten the glove, I don't think we're getting another Min in trying to search shit on people's person.

Anyways I'm gonna transition to other stuff to explain how the Nico and Hu theory makes sense from a logical standpoint here.

Let's get on to the sticky ball of clothes.

First I want to get it out there that I do not think the ball being sticky is due to the soil of the relaxation room. Mono-TV's talk about the "special formula" was mostly to foreshadow the floor of the playground's properties, also the fucking ball would have stains on it.

For me this means the ball of clothes has to have been covered in turpentine especially now that we have confirmation from Ace directly.

This is extremely huge and I'm flabbergasted has no one has mentioned this. Pray tell where the fuck did that piece of cloth go, did it get isekai'd into another world ?

This question actually has multiple meaning here because that fucking ball of clothing actually has massive implications. It confirms a lot of things and also puts a lot of doubt in things that seemed to be confirmed.

Before that I also want to say that Arei 100 pourcent got knocked out with turpentine. I don't want to argue over and over again that it was used because I've done this before but I have to since there are multiple reasons why she had to have been knocked out.

The floor is extremely prone to scuffs, if Arei was struggling then we definitely would've seen more than just a few marks in one area.

The method of murder would have been extremely difficult if she was struggling, like to a ridiculous point. Especially with someone like Arei who has been shown to have been sneaky and very prone to attacking people in their weak spots.

The tape binding Arei's hand in hindsight actually probably wasn't to avoid her struggling, it was most likely due to how the mechanism of the murder work. Keep in mind how the murder had to have worked and imagine if Arei's hands were just loose and flopping around. There could have been possible injuries with her arms that would ruin the culprit's obvious plan to make it look like a suicide. It also just makes sense for weight reasons, again Arei having her arms flopping around would make moving her body even more difficult.

And even if you want disagree with all of that, the culprit could've just binded her tape to avoid the same mistake that happened with Ace with him waking up from the turpentine.

Now that I've made my case about Arei being knocked out, let's get on the actual new arguments I want to make.

First, we know for a fact that a piece of cloth was used to knock out Ace meaning it has to have gone somewhere, if you say "well they could've just thrown it away" I will personally come into your home and shit in your shoes. And you're also wrong because I've already proven that Arei had to have been knocked out.

This means the only piece of cloth available to us would be the sticky ball of clothes.

But...like let me just explain everything that's mind boggling about all of this.

-This ball of clothes had to have been made for Ace's murder to knock him out

-The only people who knew about the old clothes were Hu, Teruko and Whit. Eden only knowing later on, way after Ace's murder was planned probably, because Hu told her about it.

-The culprit used this ball of clothing against both Arei and Ace

-The cloth is suspiciously absent from the murder scene, which makes no sense considering Nico's account rely on them not having left the gym while trying to murder Ace. Them leaving to chuck the cloth aside only to come back to the gym doesn't make sense with the timeline in how we discover things.

Yep, I'm making the claim that Nico didn't actually kill Ace here, I still think it's Hu. Again you can try and complain all you want about how it's out of character for Nico but the reality is...shit is not adding up.

It's really suspicious how silent Hu becomes when her weapon is brought up, immediatly clamming up and not defending Nico anymore. When Teruko makes assumption that Nico lied to Hu to get her weapon, she doesn't reply with a betrayed "Nico is that true ?" or even a sentence she responds with "That's...". The amout of ellpises both Nico and Hu give are extremely suspicious and just make me side eye both of them extremely hard.

I'm gonna go on another tangent here, on the subject of Hu being suspicious. Mainly because I do wanna point out a moment that both makes Eden seem a lot more innocent and makes Hu a lot more guilty.

The subject of Arei potentially committing suicide.

Now, it's very clear that the way Arei was hung was meant to make it look like Arei killed herself, this was very much meant to be the culprit's intention. Both to hide the true murder mechanism and probably to mislead the cast. The fact that it's only an incidental red mark of Arei's wrist that proves she didn't kill herself, proves that the culprit intended for it to look like a suicide.

However guess who argues against this...Eden, which, if she is the culprit I don't see why she would do something like that (and if you say "well why is Hu defending Nico and Eden" I already explained it). Clearly the Eden!Culprit theory relies on her being capable of manipulation so there's no reason why she would be so caught up in her own feelings to just ruin her own plan like that.

You know who seems to really be into the idea of Arei killing herself though, Hu.

That's all I have to say on that, now let's get onto how I think Nico actually helped Hu.

I do think there's still a 50/50 on them working directly together or just Nico catching onto Hu's plans and deciding on their own to help her.

I do think Nico directly helped her though in two major ways

First, the water, it's the obvious one. Nico probably ended up giving the water the Hu here weither they did so with/without knowing Hu's intention doesn't really matter since they're deciding to keep quiet about it now.

I also want to quickly mention how Hu getting water from the relaxation room makes a lot of sense. Hu was busy with Eden in the kitchen and Teruko had taken all the drinks from the gym, so it's likely Hu was forced to take the water from the relaxation room.

Second, the note

Oooo baby let's get into my favorite realisation in watching this episode.

One piece of dialogue has made me realize something

This made me puzzled too, because yeah, who would be listening in and how did Arei not notice when she went into the room ?

Let me take you all back to Chapter 2 Episode 5

Rose and Teruko have a conversation about Rose's secret and that conversation lasts a good while, until...

Nico was actually shown to have been there the entire time, Teruko and Rose were talking without noticing they were there.

Nico then explains themselves like this, pretty much proving this is something they just like doing casually sometimes.

This actually would explain everything on how the eavesdropping happened, Nico was on the literal fucking floor of the infirmary leading to them listening to everyone's conversation. Which tmeans they could have had the information to write the note.

This would explain the inconcistencies as to why would the culprit know to eavesdrop and how they didn't get caught by Arei when she was barging into the room (if they were outside by the door).

Now this leads to two possibilities with Nico and their relation to Hu.

Either they worked together with Hu and they both came up with the murder together. Which means either of them could've written the note.

Or Nico helped Hu without her knowledge, making the note to help her (edit : just realised this doesn't make a lot of sense ignore this).

I believe this is all I have so far and I'm very tired so you won't get a conclusion

Oh wait I hear something in the background...

"WHAT ABOUT THE TAAAAAAAAPE"

First of all, y'all gaslit me into thinking Ace couldn't have taken the tape so I'm already sick of this tape bullshit being used as decisive unshakeable evidence.

You know what I think probably happened ? Ace took the tape, after all it disappeared when he woke up and it's possible that he just then threw it away in the trash.

I mean Ace did say he was gonna "commit a murder of his own", it would be in line with him taking the tape.

Why isn't he talking about it then ? Because he'd be seen as the fucking culprit and also Ace is not really the most honest bitch out need i mention Ace witholding info about David and Arei's conversation.

[velvetvexations]

I'm now going to conclusively prove beyond all possible doubt that TERFs hate cis men, people they perceive as men, and masculinity in general. No, seriously, this is going to have less holes than relativity. Darwin wishes he could have demonstrated the reality of evolution like I'm about to take down the idea that TERFs don't come from a place of violent hatred towards masculine people and those they perceive of as masculine.

Some ground rules, because I'm so good at predicting counter-arguments:

I have only included cases where posts are completely, 100% unambiguously about cis men or "all men." No posts complaining about "men" without further elaboration, to avoid the argument that it's just being used as a dog whistle.

I have excluded cases that could be brushed away as only racism rather than hatred of men specifically, although yes, obviously they are also extremely racist.

I did not repeat a single TERF to dodge claims these are mere anomalies.

"but they team up with cis men" the Nazis teamed up with Asians and tried appealing to Native Americans and Arabs, people are perfectly capable of being logically inconsistent or temporarily suspending their feelings for one group to combat another - also, many TERFs do actually bemoan the way others have started warming up to conservatives.

The "claiming TERFs don't think I'm a woman is misgendering me" people are going to be upset. Or at least they would be, but transradfems will not engage with this, they will do everything in their power to ignore it. I invite everyone to use this post whenever they say TERFs uniquely hate trans women and only trans women. It's necessary to make the facts inescapable.

Okay, here we go after the cut. My own commentary will be Biggest as well as bold and italicized for readability. CW for hateful rhetoric.

Here she's saying that Western white women have extra capability to fully sever all relationships with men, not that white women have a greater need to do so, and thus does not fall under "can be brushed away as racism" like it may read at first.

This is in response to statements of others that identify men in a sympathetic way ("not all men," "normalize men crying") and therefore cannot be about trans women.

"Stop calling men boys" means the people she's ranting about call them boys, which again means this post isn't about trans women.

I'll end by noting that I'm not comfortable platforming the content itself, but if you google "Dworkinstan Tumblr" (yes, even the actual URL is that bad) you will find the crowning example that really cherries the top of this sundae.

[oldmanjenkins985]

TW for pedophila since I mention it very briefly at one point I would like to clarify, with all the Tessa age shit that's been going on, that my intent with this was not to prove that Tessa is an adult so she can go on to be sexualized and shit like that. My intent was to prove it was ambigious by showing all the evidence is circumstantial with explanations that both sides could use. And if you boil down *any* character, ambigious age or not, to sexualizing them, that's a completely different issue and one that very much matters. I very much do not care for that stuff, and yes I did have a crush on Tessa once. I was 17 at the time though, meaning that even if she was as young 15 that'd only be a 2 year age gap, so don't you *dare* try and accuse me of being a fuckin' weirdo or anything. I've moved on to other characters now, that being N and Uzi.

Now then, to go along with that, anyone who is uncomfortable with explicit remarks made towards Tessa or Flesha are *completely* allowed to do that regardless of her age. Whether in ambiguity or if she eventually gets confirmed to be an adult, you are *allowed* to be uncomfortable with that. You're allowed to do that with 40 year olds even.

A lot of you who were saying constantly that Tessa is a minor as if it was canon are yourselves minors. So I completely understand why you'd feel this way. The two examples I can think of are @/nuvimuvi and @/kittydragondraws (Don't wanna ping cause I don't wanna bother you with this crap). Your feelings on this are valid and there's no need for you to say Tessa is a minor as if it's confirmed canon when it's not and even one of the people in the Glitch Inn can't give a definitive answer. I don't care that he's not the end all be all, if he has just as much info as the rest of us then why would he come to the conclusion it's ambigious if he could look and see she's "clearly" a minor?

So basically: You're allowed to headcanon Tessa as a minor and be uncomfortable with explicit content surrounding her and Flesha, but that does not mean Tessa is canonically a minor and that people are pedos for saying stuff like that.

Oh, one more thing since we're here. I wanna touch on the Bite Me music video render to clear things up.

So, I've seen a lot of people saying this isn't a "sexy" pose (sorry for lack of better word), but it just...is. And no, that doesn't mean they're sexualizing Flesha, I'll get to that in a moment.

So if you just look up "sexy lean back sitting" on google, you'll find a ton of pictures of people posed extremely similar to Cyn. I'm also pretty certain I've seen pin-up drawings of when in this pose. And one final example: Widowmaker from Overwatch. *The* character who's sexualization is a big part of her design. Her sitting emote is this exact pose. And for as long as I've known this is just *the* sexy sitting pose for women. I don't know where I got that from, just that it's been in my brain for years now.

Now then, let's get back to what I said earlier about this not necessarily meaning it's meant to be sexual. I just went over how it is clearly sexual, so why the fuck am I saying it's possibly not? Very simple, it could be a joke. I've done the "Sexy pose" as a joke for years now. Even when I was 16, 17, hell even maybe as far back as 15, I've done this *exact* pose as a joke. I'm a man, so a pose like this isn't the "sexy" pose most would think of for males and that's why it worked as a joke because it was like "oh, I'm so girly" Now that doesn't mean you *have* to be a man to make it ironic and funny rather than actually sexualizing. You can just be a girl or say...an eldritch horror wearing a girl's skin. Something that horrid looking could be seen as funny when doing a pose like this since it's not exactly something you expect to see. And an even further way to say it isn't sexual: It just...might not be intended that way. It could very well just be how they had her sit. Like I said before, this is *the* go to sexy pose for women, but that doesn't mean every woman sitting like this is intending for that to be how she's percieved. They could just be...sitting.

In conclusion of that, yes this is a sexy pose, stop saying it isn't, but that doesn't mean the intent is that Flesha is supposed to be attractive. It could very easily be a joke or have no intent behind it and that's it. So once again, like most stuff surrounding this, it's completely up to the viewer to interpret it as it's ambigious.

[mariyekos]

New DMC Anime Trailer Breakdown, Part 1

Okay so thoughts on the new DMC Anime trailer, which you can see here:

Putting things under the cut!

First things first, it's definitely going to at least take a few things from the DMC3 manga.

Second: It at least uses CGI in part....but more than that, on rewatching it... Are those Agni and Rudra!? Which means it also covers DMC3 in part.

Other fun things to note- I'm not sure if Dante's plate is a reference to anything, but he does have New York plates, so we can assume this DMC takes place in the US, even if the games are ambiguously sort of British/European based on architecture and director commentary.

Going to be honest- I'm not sure if these guys are a reference to anything. If they are, it's going over my head, but I could definitely see them just being generic bad guys/hunters.

Rebellion looks nice here! Also, looks like we're continuing the tradition of Dante getting attacked at his shop, because with a Pool table, jukebox, and the posters on the wall, I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be Dante's shop. Fun that we get a shot of him without his coat too, though he must put it on at another point since he has it in the above shots.

Then we have the exploding plane scene, which afaik is new but also feels very DMC. RIP the other people in that airplane though. Still, I like how wacky and over the top it is!

We also have a demon in the background of this shot...

And someone I'm preeety sure is Enzo (from the DMC3 Manga and Bayonetta!) Although on second glance, this guy looks like he might be blond, which Enzo is not. Still, it could just be a design choice they went with.

Following that is a shot of....probably not Jester because of the short nose, but something I'm sure is connected to Arkham in some way. I want to say they wouldn't get rid of his face scar, so I'm banking on there being a plotline related to Arkham having multiple minions Dante has to take down.

The giant hell portal in the sky isn't super special. We see it in both DMC3 and the old DMC anime, after all.

Then water guy...who I also don't remember as an enemy tbh. Could be new, could be my bad memory showing face. But he's a cyclops with axe hands which is interesting.

Dante's bullets are engraved with Jackpot which I find hilarious but also cool. Just imagining him using magic/demonic power to carve that in is great. I do wonder if they're going to have him reload though? Ebony and Ivory generally use magic bullets as far as I remember, but I know Coyote-A ejects shells. This bullet is shot from Ivory though.

EDIT: Looking at it again, these guns aren't Ebony and Ivory. They're both white/grey. Assuming this isn't them being lazy/an animation error, it might be that this is a real bullet...that he engraved using magic or just special gun stuff instead of just making the bullet itself from magic. I am not interested in guns in real life, but I think guns are supposed to have a function where they leave a mark on the bullets they fire so you can identify which gun shot the bullet? So it could be a human-made modification too.

Then there's the demon he shoots, which I think is a reference to Alice and the demons from the DMC3 manga (and a nice reference to the Sin Scissors and other beings that you can get the kill on with a bullet to the mask).

Not totally sure what the thing Dante shoots is, but it looks to be some sort of pendant. Is it some possessed thing that the girl has? Not super important though, because WHY IS ECHIDNA FROM DMC4 HERE?! Not upset, just surprised. Didn't notice this in my first watch.

After that we get Dante saving a girl from a... car? train? Something getting thrown into a diner that reminds me of the one from the old DMC anime, so here's me hoping we might get some fun downtime scenes like we did in that show. Maybe we'll see a strawberry sundae :)

Actually wait-

STRAWBERRY SUNDAE IDENTIFIED! Also I don't have a picture of her on hand, but is this maybe the waitress from that anime? A younger version? I'll look for a picture later, but for the sake of getting this out earlier than later, I'll just say I'm pretty sure she was a redhead too.

EDIT: Rewatching the trailer, the blue cyclops demon from before is in front of a sign that I'm pretty sure is supposed to say Freddie's Diner like in the OG Anime, so I'm going with the waitress being the same woman or otherwise related.

After that we get what looks to be a human that turned into a demon. My bet is that this guy was always a demon who was pretending to be human, but I think it could be interesting if there was a plotline about Arkham transforming humans into demons while trying to achieve godhood.

And hey look, Dante has what looks to be a stab mark through his chest and a hole in his shirt :) i bet this boy is getting stabbed through the chest, let's gooooo!

EDIT: Back, so I'll continue.

On second glance- wait, these guns are both gray, which means they aren't Ebony and Ivory. I'm putting my money into the DMC3 anime including Dante meeting Nell rather than this being an animation/coloring error.

Aaaand I hit the image limit, darn. Part 2 can be found here.

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 12: ~

Operation Spy Part 1:

Here we go. The moment we've all been waiting for. The rescue. How will it go? Knowing this lot...

Step 1. Grab the yellow paint and mark the infected containers.

Step 2. Load the infected inside.

Step 3. Get back to the mainland.

Step 4. ...

Well, we'll see what happens afterwards.

Brodie and Roper waited at the Under Rig. They watched the horizon. An outline of a cargo ship came into view. It was a strange feeling. They were all so relieved because this was it - they were going home - but how can you just walk away from this? Easy. You don't.

The pair had to count their lucky stars. They weren't dead like Gregor or turned into something no one thought possible like Rennick. They can still have a normal life. Until then, they just had to go through an investigation, followed by a debriefing and possible firing from Cadal to cover their own arse. It's not like anyone here would care. If Cadal was thinking about sending anyone here to another rig, then they had another thing coming.

'So, what's your plan, Roper?'

'I think I'm going to take myself and the misses on that long needed holiday to Spain. What about you?'

'Take myself and Raffs back to Skye and...'Brodie shrugged. 'I dunno. Rethink my life choices.'

Roper wasn't daft. He was basically the crew's therapist when he wasn't manning Marine Control, and he knew something was bothering Brodie. Which was an oddity in and of itself because nothing bothered him. He was a father figure to most of the younger lads here, especially Raffs. Brodie's known him since he was a child. Roper's eyes lingered towards Brodie's crossed arms. His hands gripped to the sleeves as if he were hanging onto them for dear life. His breathing was laboured, which he'd just pass off as the cold.

'Don't blame yourself,' Roper said. Brodie's shoulders and jaw tensed. 'Raffs is fine. You're fine.'

'I know.' Brodie spoke through gritted teeth. 'But, I shouldn't have let him go down there.'

'He wasn't infected.'

'The lad wasn't ready.'

'Yes, he was, Brods. If none of this happened, he'd be going head first back into that diving bell. Give him time. He'll tell you what he wants.'

Of course, Roper was right, and with a supportive pat on the shoulder, he made his way to the Deck for an update. Brodie continued to watch the cargo ship come into view and took a deep breath to help himself relax.

'He's right.' Raffs' voice broke Brodie out of his spell. The pair had failed to notice that the young man was just around the corner. He approached and leaned against the railing. He seemed happier today. More relaxed. His wide eyes were calm, and his hands weren't shaking. 'I mean - Yeah, I was terrified, but I knew I was safe. Plus, I did hit my head in there. Of course, I'm going to be shak-'

Brodie didn't let Raffs finish his sentence. He just grabbed the young man he saw as his son and held him close. Raffs knew what this was. He's felt this crushing hug before, where Brodie kept him close and refused to let go. The last time he felt it was when Raffs nearly fell down the stairs carrying one side of a dresser. You couldn't fight it either. Any second now...

'I'm sorry.'

There it is.

Raffs returned the hug, though he could never have the strength of Brodie. 'I'm fine,' he said with reassurance whilst he pulled away. 'Just needed to wrap my head around all this.' Brodie's heard that excuse before, but he'll take his word for it. As long as he was okay.

The same couldn't be said for Muir.

Anxiety suddenly gripped him, and the heartbeats he could hear weren't helping. If this was his power from The Shape, then it was frankly shit. The excitement from everyone made him uneasy. There was no warning. The anxiety just came knocking on the door before kicking it down. Muir's mind began to race with ridiculous possibilities. What if the ship sank? What if the police are waiting for Caz to just shoot him? What if The Shape isn't really dead and it'll follow them to the mainland? What if he's taken away and he never gets to see Innes again?

Muir held his breath with a thousand yard stare. No one seemed to notice. Not even Innes, who came into the container with a backpack he left for his partner. All of Muir's eyes turned to him, yet his head stayed seated in the same position.

'Alright. That's all of your stuff.' Like everyone else, Innes was happy. 'Yes. I brought the bloody harmonica before you ask. But don't go playing it until we get ye home.' Muir didn't answer and continued to stare. His mind wouldn't shut up. Everyone's heartbeats drowned out whatever Innes said. It was an echo for him. Everything began to blur. Not because The Shape had suddenly returned, but because he was crying. Muir could finally allow himself to breathe again. Innes looked, and his smile dropped. 'Muir?' He felt a tendril wrap around his hand, and he instinctively began to stroke it with his thumb.

'Please don't go.'

Innes frowned. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Stay in here with me.' A pause. 'What if this doesn't work? And what if I'm taken away, never to be seen again?'

'I think that's impossible.'

'Innes, please!' Muir snapped as he began to tighten his grip on Innes and shook his head, because he couldn't run a hand through his hair anymore. 'I don't want to be on my own.'

Innes moved towards him and wiped Muir's tears away. Muir hugged and pulled him closer for him to rest his head on his shoulders. Of course, Innes allowed it and, in return, gave Muir a kiss. 'Alright... Alright, Muir. I'll stay, but we have to be quiet.' Muir nodded before buring his head into Innes.

The pair were so worked up in themselves that they didn't notice Gibbo, Trots, and Roy watching. None of them were surprised. They all suspected something for a while. I'm glad to see they had their confirmation.

Roy often wondered what that felt like. To love someone so near and dear in that way. He's loved friends and family, but nothing you could conclude to be romantic. His only real love outside of that would be football and cooking. He caught on that the three were just staring at this point and gave Gibbo and Trots a small tap.

'Right, you two, get in.'

With their belongings tucked away in the corner, Gibbo, being bigger of the pair, went first and soon settled by using his bag as a pillow. Trots soon followed and didn't exactly know what to do with himself. He had this coat pocket, but it was just awkward for him. Like Rennick, he felt like a rescue horse being led to a stable.

'Hope you don't mind me sharing with you, Gibs.'

'As long as there's no Cadal this or Cadal that.'

'Oh no, this has made it worse,' Roy laughed. 'But hey, if he gets bored, Animal Farm is in his bag.' It wasn't. Trots knew it wasn't. The comment got Gibbo laughing. Trots just smirked before using the tendrils to make himself taller before giving Roy a quick shove on the shoulder with a chuff.

'Off with ya, ya prick.'

'Seya on the other side, lads.'

Of course, the men weren't in complete darkness. Along with the sun coming through at the bottom of the door, Caz and Finlay made some adjustments to the containers, other than paint. A few holes for the natural light. No one thought about possible rain, though.

'Are you really going to use your infection to get a Union?' Gibbo asked out of curiosity.

'Of course,' Trots said. 'How can they say 'no' to this?'

'Ah Christ.' Maybe Gibbo should have taken Rennick as his container-mate. He made his stance known by grabbing Trot's bag and holding it over his head like a pillow trying to block out the noise.

'Right, you two Roasters,' Finlay said in her usual tone that commanded your attention. She was never scared to use it towards Rennick and Addair before, and them being infected didn't change that. The pair awkwardly stood in their own shared container. 'I better not hear a peep out of either of you.'

'I want off this rig, Finlay,' Rennick said in that tone when you're about to get an earful. 'Why the fuck, do you think I'm gonna be loud?!'

'Because you always have to get the last word.'

'Then give me my own container.'

'No. We take you in pairs. Muir's too big for anyone else.' Except Trots, but wanted to be with Gibbo. 'Now keep ye' voices down, or I'll come in there and ring both of ya necks.'

Was Rennick scared of Finaly? No. Was Addair scared of Finlay? Also, no. But, the pair had to admire her attitude, even if they didn't like being spoken to like this. She always carried herself with authority and had bigger balls than most of the men here. Even if she couldn't swim.

'Hey Finlay?' Addair called as she began to close the door. Finlay stopped and listened. 'Why did the military say no to you?'

'Because they don't take women. Is that why they refused you, Addair?'

With that, the door shut, and Finlay could finally feel her blood pressure return to normal. Faint snickering from Rennick could be heard through the metal, followed by a small smack. She spotted Roper and gave a thumbs up, who gave one in return.

Within minutes, the cargo ship docked beside them, and a man stepped off and onto the walkway that connected to the rig. Thankfully, the sea was calm this afternoon. Roper went to greet him.

'Are you Rennick?' He asked.

'No,' Roper said. 'We did a headcount. We lost him.'

'Didn't take a lifeboat?'

'Considering none of them worked, the answer's no.'

The man noticed the exhausted look in Roper's eyes. He was putting it on just so they could leave faster. They then noticed the amount of holes and smashed windows were on Beria. And this was only one part. Their eyes went wide and confused as they scanned the rig before looking to Roper for answers, who exchanged a look that said, 'I know.'

Nothing else needed to be said. The man gave a nod of approval. 'Oh, and we still have some equipment that Cadal will want back.'

'Will they?'

'Do you want to pay for anything we lose?' Seems Caz's sarcasm had finally rubbed off on Roper.

'Fair enough.' He turned and called to his crew. 'Get the crane going!'

And breathe.

Soon, the crew of Beria were safely secured on the cargo. The infected were all sat next to each other, but the equipment sat on top. So much for the holes to give them sunlight. Maybe they could see in the dark?

Caz found himself watching the containers from the safety of Bridge. He couldn't feel their presence from this distance, and it left him on edge. He hoped they were okay. Yes, even Rennick and Addair. He turned and, along with the others, watched the Beria slowly disappear from view.

'Good riddance.'

[nightxcreature]

About Damn Time

A/N: I am certainly not a Sam girl, but I thought that I would try out something for him. Dean is my favorite, the LOML, but I'm trying to expand my horizons when writing, so heres a short one for Sammy. Written fast, edited poorly

Warnings: Drugs...sort of? Forced marriage, unrequited love on one part.

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester x Friend!Reader, Becky Rosen x Sam Winchester

I was nursing a drink at a little strip club in Las Vegas, not exactly the place I wanted to be, but Dean wasn't leaving without hitting up a Vegas club first. He was chatting up the bartender while I sent yet another text to Sam, begging for him to at least tell me he was alive. He had left on a solo hunt a few days ago and we haven't been able to find him since. Dean keeps trying to reassure me that he's fine, but I know he's been messaging him just as much as I have. If not more.

"Hey, he just sent me a text. He's four blocks away and wants me to meet him with a suit." Dean's voice snaps me out of my own head, and I look toward him in confusion.

"Four blocks? I've been texting him all day, why didn't he just tell me that?" I question, mostly to myself.

Dean shrugs and leaves some cash on my table, "Maybe he's just been busy with another hunt. He's probably getting ready to do some fed interviews since he's got me bringing a suit."

I nod and grab my things, following behind him to the door. My phone dings as I get into the front seat, and I scramble to find it.

Sam: Who is this?

Me: What do you mean who is this? It's your girlfriend.

Sam: I don't have a girlfriend, I have a fiancée. Stop texting this number.

Me: Sam, this isn't funny. Dean and I are on our way.

"Dean, I think something's wrong. He's acting like he doesn't know who I am." I say as Dean flies down the street, "Where did he say he was?"

Dean shrugs, "Looks like a wedding chapel. He's probably just posing as a priest or crashing a wedding to get more info."

"But why would he pretend not to know me? He said he's engaged..." I reply placing a hand against my temple, "Something just feels wrong."

"Maybe he's just playing a prank on you. We'll figure it out if he isn't."

______________________________________________________________

As we step into the building the lights flicker causing Dean to send me a cautious look, pulling out our guns we slowly make our way through the hall toward the main chapel. The lights in the main room are bright and I have to put a hand in front of my eyes to adjust to the difference, finally coming to my senses I suck in a quick breath and stop in my tracks. Sam stands at the end of the aisle, a small smile on his face and a carnation boutonniere attached to his suit jacket. The world feels like it's moving in slow motion as he makes his way toward us, grabbing Deans gun and rushing to put it away.

"What are you doing?" He whispers angrily, dragging Dean to the front of the chapel. I slowly follow behind, unsure of exactly what's going on and where I should stand.

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" Dean asks, shoving Sam's hands off his arm, "Are we crashing a monster wedding or something?"

Sam reaches over and grabs another carnation, pining it to Dean's jacket and handing me a bouquet, "What? No! I'm in love."

Dean glances my way, a curious glint in his eye, "Oh really? Who could've guessed?"

I giggle and place a hand on Sam's arm, "Listen, maybe we should talk about this first."

He sends a funny look my way and stands up straighter, "Why? I know it's a little quick, but I'm in love. I know what I want and it's to get married. Today."

A look of shock passes my face, we hadn't even said 'I love you' yet. I mean, obviously I do love him, he's the sweetest guy I've ever known, but marriage? We don't exactly live a life that allows that most of the time.

"Maybe we should talk about this more in depth first."

"No. I know what I want." He says curtly, his frown immediately flipping upside down when the wedding march begins, and I hear the chapel doors swing open.

"What. The. Fuck." Dean lets out, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me toward the door.

Becky Rosen, the biggest Supernatural fan alive, is slowly making her way down the aisle to my boyfriend.

"What the fuck is right." I whisper, "Sam, what the hell is going on?"

"I love her." He answers simply.

"No, you don't." Dean says, yanking him back from the Elvis impersonator at the end of the aisle, "You've lost your mind."

"No, I haven't! We ran into each other, talked for a while, and I realized that I'm in love." Sam angrily responds as Dean shoves him into a pew.

He turns and points toward Becky and then at the pew in front of him, "You, sit. Now." Becky nods quickly and sits beside Sam, keeping a little space between them that Sam quickly closes pulling her closer, "Let her go, you don't love her. You love her!" Dean yells, pointing between Becky and me.

"I don't even know her!" Sam yells back, pulling Becky closer into his side as she giggles, "Becky is the love of my life."

I roll my eyes, "Are you sure she didn't poison you? This isn't the first time she's tried to get you into her bed."

Becky scoffs, "He loves me, didn't you hear him? I know that must be hard to accept, but it's true."

"Yeah, right." I nod, "Sam, you can't marry her. You don't even know her."

"I already did."

"What?" Dean and I question in unison.

Becky's smile grows even wider, "The ceremony is just for pictures, we signed the papers before you got here."

As she finishes her sentence, Elvis waltzes back up with the bill and Becky stands to follow him. Sam kisses her before she leaves, and I almost throw up.

"Dude, could you stop?" Dean suggests, "This could all be something written by Chuck. We need to figure that out before you go off with your new...wife." He sends me an apologetic look and then turns back to Sam,

"Chuck has nothing to do with this. I'm going back to Delaware with my wife, just be happy for me." Sam stands as Becky reenters the room and they head out the door for their...honeymoon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I lay in the motel room alone while Dean is snooping at Becky's under the guise of bringing a gift. He suggested I stay back saying that he doesn't want to cause any problems for the happy couple, but I know that he really just wants to save me the anger and pain of seeing Sam with someone else. How does this even happen? I grab my laptop and click on my search engine, typing in anything that could give us insight into what's going on. Suddenly, Dean bursts through the door with Sam leaning against him and a smaller guy on their heels.

I Jump up from the bed and rush toward them, running my hands over Sam's face as he slowly blinks into consciousness, "What's going on? Is he okay?"

"Demons. He's fine, just tired. Becky was loading him up with some purple potion every day." Dean says as he grabs a beer from the fridge.

Sam reaches over and grabs my hand from where I placed it on the table beside him. He tugs me closer and leans against my chest, "Hey." He whispers quietly.

"Hi."

He sheepishly smiles as he looks up at my face, "Sorry that I forgot who you are."

I giggle and place a hand on his cheek, "You were drugged, I can't hold it against you. Just make sure it's me that you're meeting at the end of the aisle next time, ok?"

He chuckles and stretches up to kiss my lips, "Sounds good to me."

I stop short from touching his lips and smile, "Are you still married? I'm not comfortable being the cause for your infidelity."

He returns my smile and pulls my lips to his in a soft kiss before saying, "I signed the papers before we came up. You're no longer the other woman." He kisses me again and runs a hand through my hair, "I did realize something through all of this though."

"Yeah? Whats that?" I inquire, an eyebrow raised.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks quickly, a shy blush rising in his cheeks.

"No, but you can."

"I love you." He whispers as he places his lips on mine again, "I really, really do."

"I love you, too." I return, smiling against his lips.

A slow clap begins behind us as Dean steps out of the bathroom, "It's about damn time."

A/N: I said this would be short, but it is not. My bad. Love you guys!

Tag List:

@lmhf1

[chrzzboo]

are ur requests open??? (if not don’t respond to this lol)

but if they r, could you do kind of an angst fic. Like maybe pedri and reader are twins (maybe a small ferran x reader???🤭) where like readers on barca F and they win Liga f and reader rly hopes for pedri to be there and when he’s not they have like a huge arguement and stuff and ferran comforts her?

Broken promises

Summary: after the reader wins her first ever Liga she couldn’t help but be over the moon. Expected to celebrate her win with her twin brother Pedri took an unexpected turn.

Note: hi hey yeah hello, I’m back from the death. I had a very busy period but everything has slowed down a bit so, here I’m with a new fic. I hope you guys enjoy it!!!

Reader x Pedri (siblings) Ferran x reader

Genre: Fluff/angst

Y/N and the rest of the Barca Feminine team celebrated on the pitch, victorious after winning the Liga F. The crowd cheered and chanted, ecstatic for the team's achievement. Y/N should have felt the same, but there was something missing – Pedri, her twin brother, was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, Y/N's happiness turned to mild irritation.

She thought, "Of all days, why isn't he here?"

Pedri had promised to be there to celebrate Y/N's victory. He even had a perfect seat, but as usual, he couldn't keep his word. He was always too occupied with his own team and career.

Pedri sat on the team bus, exhausted and frustrated as the team got ready to leave. He knew Y/N would be upset, but he couldn't help it. He tried to shake off the guilt, reasoning with himself, "I'll apologize later. She'll understand. She always does."

Y/N had no idea why she even expected Pedri to show up. He had failed her countless times before, but she always got her hopes up anyway. She looked around the celebrating team, trying to enjoy the moment. Suddenly, Ferran approached her, apparently he didn't join the rest of the team on the bus. A warm smile on his face.

"Hey, congratulations!" he said, his voice filled with genuine excitement.

Y/N forced a smile, trying to hide her disappointment. "Thanks," she replied, her voice a bit strained. Ferran noticed the hint of sadness in her eyes. "You okay?" he asked, his expression turning inquisitive.

Ferran frowned, noticing Pedri nowhere, clearly not impressed with Pedri's absence. "Seriously? Again?" he commented, shaking his head disapprovingly. "He promised he'd be here, right?"

Y/N nodded, the disappointment returning stronger. "Yes, he did. But, well, here we are," she said with a shrug, trying to play it off. She didn't want to dwell on it, especially not in front of Ferran.

Ferran could tell that Y/N was trying to hide her frustration, but he knew her well enough to see through it. "Hey, don't worry about it. I mean, you guys won, that's awesome," he said, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Yeah, you're right," Y/N agreed, a slight smile appearing on her face. She appreciated Ferran's attempt to cheer her up. He had a knack for making her feel better, even in the midst of her disappointment. "You were amazing out there by the way," Ferran added, giving her a friendly nudge. His compliment caught her off guard, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Oh, thanks, I... uh, I just did my best," Y/N stuttered, a bit taken aback by his compliment. She wasn't used to being praised, especially not by a player from the main team.

Ferran chuckled at her reaction, clearly enjoying her blush. "Don't be modest," he teased. "You led your team to victory. That's nothing to brush off."

Y/N's heartbeat quickened as she looked at Ferran. He always had this effect on her, making her heart race and her stomach flutter. She tried to downplay it, but she couldn't deny the undeniable attraction she felt towards him.

As they continued talking, Y/N found herself feeling more at ease. Ferran's easygoing nature and kind words made her forget, albeit temporarily, about Pedri's absence. However, the thought of her twin brother still nagged at the back of her mind.

Just then, the team bus started pulling away from the stadium. Y/N noticed the vehicle as it rolled past them, her disappointment returning with a sharp pang. Pedri was there.

"Looks like he's on his way," she muttered sarcastically, but loud enough for Ferran to hear.

"Huh," Ferran said, glancing at the moving bus. He then turned back to Y/N, the concern obvious in his eyes. "Are you gonna confront him?" he asked, his voice gentle yet worried.

Y/N sighed, a mixture of frustration and fatigue taking over. "Honestly, I don't know," she admitted. "I want to talk to him, but I'm tired of all the arguing. We've been through this countless times before. I just... I don't know if it's worth it."

Ferran placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. "You know," he began, "Pedri can be a bit... self-absorbed at times. He gets so wrapped up in his own world that he forgets about the people around him."

Y/N nodded in agreement, appreciating Ferran's understanding. "Yeah, I know," she replied, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "It just feels like he doesn't care. He keeps breaking his promises, and I... I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Ferran's expression softened as he saw the hurt in Y/N's eyes. "I get it," he said softly. "But maybe you should talk to him. You two are siblings, after all. You don't want this to create a rift between you guys, right?"

Y/N let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the wall behind her. "I know I should," she admitted, her voice tinged with resignation. "But it's just so exhausting. Every time I bring it up, it turns into a full-blown argument. I'm tired of constantly reminding him about his promises, you know?"

Ferran nodded, understanding her frustration but still urging her to address the issue. "I get it, but sometimes, uncomfortable conversations are necessary," he advised. "If you don't talk to him, this resentment will build and eventually boil over. It's not healthy for either of you."

Y/N knew Ferran was right, but she didn't want to face the confrontation. She knew it would end in a fight, and she just didn't have the energy for it right now. "You're right," she acquiesced with a sigh. "But I can't deal with this tonight. I'm mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. I need some time to cool down first."

Ferran smiled sympathetically, recognizing her need for space. "That's fair," he said reassuringly. "You don't have to confront him right now. Give yourself some time to rest and gather your thoughts. But don't let this fester, okay? Promise me you'll talk to him soon."

Y/N nodded, appreciation for Ferran's understanding evident in her eyes. "I will," she assured him. "I promise I'll talk to him. Just... not tonight. I need some time to calm down first."

Ferran smiled, satisfied with her promise. He knew Y/N was stubborn, but he also knew she would keep her word. "Good," he replied with a nod. "You don't want this to become a long-term problem. The sooner you and Pedri talk about this, the better."

Y/N managed a small smile, touched by his concern. "Thanks, Ferran," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I appreciate you listening and giving me some perspective. It's nice to have someone to talk to."

Ferran shrugged nonchalantly, his usual easy smile on his face. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" he replied, the casualness of his tone only somewhat hiding the warmth in his gaze.

Y/N couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest at his words. The way he looked at her, with such a gentle, caring expression, stirred something in her that she'd been trying to ignore for a long time.

"Yeah, friends," she muttered, her voice a bit shaky. She quickly looked down, hoping that Ferran didn't notice her momentary weakness.

But Ferran did notice. He saw the way her eyes darted down, the way her cheeks reddened ever so slightly. He knew Y/N better than she realized, and he could tell that his words had an effect on her, despite her attempts to hide it.

However, he chose not to point it out, instead maintaining his casual demeanor. "You know, you did great out there today," he said, changing the subject. "You were like a lioness on that field."

Y/N's heart still pounded from his previous statement, but she managed to regain her composure. "Oh, thanks," she replied, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "It was a team effort, you know. We wouldn't have won without everyone's hard work."

"True, but you were the MVP," Ferran teased, nudging her playfully. "You scored the winning goal, after all."

Y/N blushed at his compliment, still not used to such attention. "I was just in the right place at the right time," she insisted, trying to downplay her achievement.

Ferran chuckled at her modesty, finding it endearing. "Oh, come on. Don't be so humble. You had that goal in you. The way you positioned yourself, timed your shot... it was all skill."

He shifted slightly closer to her, his gaze fixed intently on her.

Y/N felt her heart race faster as he moved closer. The way he looked at her, with that intense gaze and warm smile, made her stomach flutter. She tried to ignore the effect he had on her, but it was getting increasingly harder to do so. "I... I guess I got lucky," she muttered, her voice betraying her nervousness.

Ferran shook his head, his smile becoming more wolfish. "No, it wasn't luck," he insisted, his voice lowering just a tad. "It was talent. You have a real gift, you know that?"

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart now jumping in her throat. His words, his proximity, the way he was looking at her... It was all too much. "You're just saying that," she muttered, unable to meet his gaze.

Ferran chuckled softly, amused by her reaction. He inched even closer, his breath now warm on her cheek as he spoke. "No, I'm not just saying that," he murmured, his voice a low timbre that sent shivers down her spine. "You underestimate yourself."

Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as he closed the remaining distance between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and she found it hard to form a coherent thought. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Ferran's smile widened at her flustered state. He found great pleasure in seeing her usual composed demeanor crumble because of him. He leaned in even closer, his words but a breath against her ear. "You don't have to say anything," he whispered back. "Just take the compliment."

Y/N shivered at the feel of his breath on her skin. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, her pulse racing. She couldn't recall ever feeling this way because of someone's presence. It was overwhelming yet thrilling at the same time.

"Ferran," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I..."

Ferran pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze now holding a mixture of heat and curiosity. "Yeah?" he prompted, his voice laced with a subtle hint of challenge. He wanted to hear what she was struggling to say, even though he had a feeling he already knew.

Y/N swallowed hard, gathering her courage. She looked into Ferran's eyes, her own filled with a mixture of confusion and... something else. Something she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge. "I... I don't know," she repeated, the words getting tangled in her throat. "I can't think straight when you're so close."

Ferran's smile grew. He knew he was affecting her, and it made his heart race. "Maybe that's the point," he teased, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. He took another half-step closer, reducing the space between them to mere inches.

Y/N's breath was coming in short gasps now, her chest rising and falling with each labored inhale. She could feel the heat radiating off of Ferran, the air between them charged with an electric tension. "You're such a tease," she managed to say, her voice hoarse.

"And you love it," Ferran shot back, his tone filled with a mix of confidence and playfulness. He reached out his hand, gently tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch sent tingles down her spine, and she unconsciously leaned into his touch.

Y/N closed her eyes, a small sigh escaping her lips at his touch. The way he could stir her emotions with just a simple gesture was dizzying. She knew she should step back, maintain some distance, but her body refused to cooperate. Instead, she found herself drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. The thought of confronting Pedri long forgotten.

"You're not the only one affected, you know," Ferran murmured, his voice lowered to a husky whisper. His fingers traced a light path along her jawline, trailing down to the base of her neck. "You're driving me crazy right now."

Y/N's eyes shot open, her breath catching in her chest. His words, coupled with his soft touch, felt like molten fire running through her veins. She was struggling to keep a hold on her sanity, her control slipping further and further. "You're not playing fair," she breathed, her voice betraying her growing desire.

"When have I ever played fair?" Ferran asked, a sly grin on his lips. His fingers continued their feather-light caress, moving now to her collarbone. He knew he was pushing her boundaries, testing her limits, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted her, and he was enjoying every shiver, every hitched breath he pulled from her.

In a swift, almost desperate move, Y/N closed the remaining distance between them, her body pressing tightly against his. Her hands found their way to his chest, gripping his shirt as if anchoring herself to reality. Ferran responded in kind, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her closer, tighter.

Their lips met, and it was like a shock to the system. The kiss was fierce and hungry, a clash of lips, teeth, and tongue. Y/N surrendered to the sensation, her inhibitions slipping away like waves on shore. Her heart pounded in her chest, the blood rushing in her ears, drowning out all other sounds but the thumping of their hearts beating in tandem.

Ferran matched her fervor, his hands roaming over her body, exploring the curves and lines that had haunted his dreams. He nipped at her bottom lip, wanting more, craving more. Y/N responded by burying her fingers in his hair, her nails scratching at his scalp, drawing a guttural moan from him.

They were a tangle of limbs and desire, each touch fanning the flames of their growing ardor. Ferran's mouth left a trail of kisses down her neck, each one more heated than the last. Y/N arched into him, her body seeking the closest contact, the most intense sensations.

The world beyond them faded, time becoming a hazy concept. The only thing that mattered was the feel of each other, the taste of their lips intertwined. Their bodies moved together in a rhythm fueled by desire, each touch and sigh stoking the fire between them.

But eventually, the need for air became overwhelming. Reluctantly, they pulled apart, panting and breathless. Ferran's forehead rested against Y/N's, his eyes locking onto hers, a mixture of awe and desire in his gaze.

"You're going to be the death of me," Ferran murmured, his voice thick with residual passion. His hands were still holding her hips, keeping her flush against him. Y/N could only respond with a breathless laugh, her heart racing and her body still humming with unfulfilled desire.

Ferran's smirk softened into a genuine smile as he gazed into Y/N's eyes. He knew he had to say something, to express the tumultuous feelings bubbling within him. Taking a deep breath, he slowly spoke.

"I... I need to tell you something," he began, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. Y/N's heart skipped a beat, sensing the weight behind his words. She simply gave him a nod, encouraging him to continue.

Ferran took a moment to collect his thoughts. It was now or never. "For a while now, I've been struggling with something. A... a feeling, I guess you could say." He paused, his eyes searching hers, gauging her reaction.

Y/N's heart thudded in her chest, hanging onto every word he said. She could tell whatever he was about to say was important, momentous even.

Ferran went on, his words tumbling out now in a rush of honesty. "I've tried to ignore it, to push it down, but I can't do it anymore. I... I have feelings for you, Y/N. Deep, intense feelings. More than just friendship."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she simply stared at him, the words echoing in her mind. Did she hear him right? Had he just admitted to having feelings for her, just like she harbored for him?

Ferran watched her, his expression a mix of hope and anxiety. He waited for her response, his heart in his throat.

Y/N, still trying to process his confession, found her voice. "You... you have feelings for me?" she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ferran nodded, his eyes filled with an earnestness that made her heart flutter. "Yes," he replied simply. "I've tried to ignore it, to convince myself it was just a temporary thing, but... it's not. My feelings for you have only grown stronger. I... I've fallen for you, Y/N."

She could see how nervous he was, she never expected the Ferran to be this nervous especially since she was used to see him dominate the pitch. “I have put my feeling off for too many times Ferran, and I’m glad to share the same feelings as you.” She ended the confession with a confident smile.

“So now I have the right to call you mi novia huh.” He says with a smirk. “You have every right Mi tiburón.” She smiles at him.

She laughs at him. "Okay enough with the cheesy cringe confessions." They both laugh finally having found each other.

It was safe to say that the day ended in a perfect way, way better than both of them could’ve imagined.

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The next day:

The morning after Ferran's confession, Y/N found herself at home, still reeling from the previous night's events. Her mind was spinning with a whirlwind of emotions, replaying Ferran's words over and over in her head. But as much as she wanted to lose herself in the memories of his touch and his confession, Y/N knew she needed to face another problem. Her twin brother, Pedri, and his tendency to break promises.

As a result, Y/N's mood was on edge. She tried to hide it, but her annoyance was evident as she saw Pedri lounging on the couch.

"Hey," Pedri greeted her with his usual carefree tone, not noticing the storm brewing in her eyes.

Y/N didn't respond immediately, her jaw clenching. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress the irritation rising within her.

Seeing her silence, Pedri sat up a bit, a puzzled expression on his face. "Something wrong?" he asked, finally noticing her tense demeanor.

Y/N took another deep breath, silently counting to ten to maintain her composure. When she spoke, her voice was calm, but there was a coolness to it. "We need to talk," she said, fixing Pedri with a stern gaze.

Pedri's eyebrows raised in surprise. He could sense the seriousness in her tone. "Okay," he replied cautiously, his easy-going smile fading slightly. "What did I do this time?"

Y/N clenched her fists, reminding herself to stay calm. "You know exactly what," she replied, her voice now holding a hint of sharpness. "It's about the promises you keep breaking. You know how much it bothers me, yet you continue to do it."

Pedri winced at her words. He knew he had a habit of making promises he couldn't keep, but he didn't like being reminded of it, especially in this manner.

"Hey, come on," he started, trying to downplay it. "It's not like I do it on purpose. Things just... happen, you know?"

Y/N's eyes flashed, her irritation growing. "No, that's just an excuse," she shot back, her voice rising slightly. "You promise things, and then you don't follow through. It's disrespectful and infuriating. I know you’re upset about not winning your title but that doesn’t give you the right to ignore my succes.”

Pedri ran a hand through his hair, visibly uncomfortable now. He knew she was right, but he didn't want to admit it. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't mean to make you upset."

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes never leaving his. "But you do upset me, every time you break your word. And it's not just about me. It's about respect, trust, and keeping your commitments."

Pedri's own annoyance flared up at her words, his defenses rising. "Fine, I get it, I mess up sometimes! But what about you, huh? You're always so perfect, so damn put together. Can't make a mistake, can you?"

Y/N stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "This isn't about me, Pedri. It's about you and your lack of responsibility."

Pedri huffed, his anger growing. "Oh, of course. Because everything is always my fault, right? You never do anything wrong."

Y/N's own patience was wearing thin, the calm veneer slipping away. "This isn't about whose fault it is, Pedri," she retorted. "It's about fixing the issue. And you can't just brush it off with sarcasm and deflection."

Pedri, now fully on the defensive, let his anger get the better of him. "Oh, so now you're playing the saint, huh? Always so righteous, so damn judgmental."

Y/N's temper flared as well. "And you're acting like a child, avoiding responsibility at all costs!"

Pedri clenched his jaw, his voice raising. "And what about you? Always so cold, so damn unapproachable. Can't you lighten up a bit?"

Y/N was on the verge of losing her composure completely. "This isn't about being fun or easygoing, Pedri. It's about being reliable and trustworthy!"

Pedri huffed, his frustration boiling over. "Oh, and I suppose you're the epitome of reliability, aren't you? Never make a mistake in your perfect little world."

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger, her own temper pushed to the brink. "No, I'm not perfect, but at least I don't make promises I can't keep! All you do is give me broken promises"

Frustrated and hurt by the argument with Pedri, Y/N stormed out of the house, tears pricking her eyes. She needed to get away, to clear her head and find some comfort. Only one person came to mind: Ferran.

With a resolute stride, she walked towards Ferran's house, her heart racing with a mix of hurt and anticipation.

As soon as Y/N slammed the door shut, Pedri knew he fucked it up but he was too stubborn to apologise and admit that he’s in the wrong.

As Y/N approached Ferran's house, she took a few deep breaths to compose herself, wiping away the stray tears with the back of her hand. She could see the familiar house in the distance, and her heart ached with a strange mixture of comfort and worry. What if he wasn't home? What if he was busy? Doubt and worry churned in her stomach, but she was too raw and emotionally exhausted to turn back now.

Gathering her courage, Y/N walked up to the door and knocked lightly. She waited anxiously, the sound of her pounding heart echoing in her ears. A moment later, the door opened, revealing Ferran, surprise etched on his face.

"Y/N?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. "Is everything okay?"

Y/N's breath hitched at seeing him, his concerned expression only making her emotions come to the surface even more. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat, and a small sob escaped her instead.

Ferran's eyes widened, and he immediately pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "Hey, hey, it's alright," he murmured, his voice soothing. His strong arms wrapped around her, providing a comforting embrace.

Y/N buried her face in his chest, her tears now flowing freely. She clung to him, the weight of her argument with Pedri and the turmoil of her emotions overwhelming her. Ferran held her close, murmuring reassurances and rubbing comforting circles on her back.

With her face still buried in his chest, Y/N recounted the argument with Pedri, her voice tremulous. She spoke of the broken promises, the frustration, and the hurt that had led her to his doorstep. Ferran listened silently, his arms tight around her, providing a silent anchor.

After she finished speaking, Y/N pulled back a little, looking up at Ferran with tear-streaked cheeks. Her voice was small when she spoke. "I'm sorry to just show up like this... I didn't know where else to go."

Ferran's expression softened further, his eyes filled with understanding. "You don't have to apologize," he said gently, wiping a tear off her cheek with his thumb. "I'm glad you came to me. You don't have to face things alone, you know that, right?"

Y/N nodded, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. Ferran's words, his caring demeanor, were what she needed. She leaned into him again, needing that physical reassurance.

"I just feel so tired and frustrated," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

"I know," Ferran replied, his voice low and comforting. He lifted a hand, gently running his fingers through her hair. "But it's going to be alright. You'll figure it out."

Y/N looked up at him then, her eyes vulnerable. "How can you be so sure?" she asked, a hint of despair in her voice.

Ferran smiled down at her, his gaze unwavering. "Because I know you," he said simply. "You're strong, amor, stronger than you give yourself credit for. And whatever obstacles you face, you'll find a way to overcome them. You always do."

Y/N's lower lip trembled slightly at his words. She knew Ferran believed in her, and his faith was both humbling and bolstering. She clung to his words, letting them soothe her frayed nerves.

"But what do I do about Pedri?" she asked, her voice small.

Ferran thought for a moment, his hand still gently stroking her hair. "You can talk to him again when you both have cooled down," he suggested. "Try to explain how his broken promises affect you. But also, listen to his perspective. Communication is key in resolving conflicts."

Y/N nodded again, appreciating his advice. It made sense to talk to Pedri when they were both calmer. But the thought of another argument filled her with trepidation.

"What if he doesn't listen?" she asked, her voice betraying her anxiety.

Ferran's expression was one of gentle reassurance. "Then you've done everything you can," he said firmly. "You've tried to reach out, express how you feel, and that's all you can do. At the end of the day, it's up to him to listen and make an effort."

He paused, then added, "But remember, you're not alone. You have me, and I'm here for you, no matter what."

Eventually after a few hours at Ferran’s , Y/N decided to head back home. Ferran dropped her off and she went straight to bed, not caring about anything or anyone else.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day

The following day, Y/N woke up feeling a bit more composed after her tumultuous day. The argument with Pedri still weighed on her mind, but she had Ferran's reassurance and support to bolster her.

Pedri, too, was feeling the aftereffects of their argument. With a night's sleep, he had cooled down and realized the depth of his mistakes. In the morning, he couldn't bear the guilt and tension that hung over the house.

As Y/N sat at the kitchen table, quietly sipping her morning coffee, Pedri approached her, looking uncharacteristically contrite.

"Y/N," he began, his voice unusually quiet. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Y/N looked up, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. Seeing his demeanor, her defenses softened a bit, and she nodded. "Sure," she replied, gesturing to the chair opposite her.

Pedri sat down, a deep sigh escaping him. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. "I... I wanted to apologize. For yesterday."

Y/N remained silent, her eyes fixed on him, assessing his words. But she allowed him to continue.

Pedri continued, his eyes downcast. "I know I should have been there for you, but I was..." He took a deep breath, his voice quiet. "I was having a rough day too. I lost an important title, and I let my own disappointment and frustration get the better of me."

He glanced up at her, regret evident in his eyes. "It's no excuse, I know. But it's the truth."

Y/N listened, her expression softening further as he explained. She understood the disappointment of losing a match, the pressure and the expectations that went with it. It didn't excuse his broken promise, but it certainly shed new light on the situation.

She took a moment to process his words, then responded softly, "I appreciate your apology. And I understand that you were upset about the match."

"But," she added firmly, "That doesn't erase the fact that you broke your promise. I needed you, and you weren't there. My feelings were hurt, and your own disappointment doesn't negate that."

Pedri nodded, his head bowed in agreement. "I know. I messed up, and I let you down. I should have been there, no matter what."

He looked up at her, the remorse clear on his face. "But I want to make it up to you. If you'll allow me."

Y/N studied him for a moment. The genuine remorse in his eyes tugged at her, making forgiving him a lot easier.

"I'll allow it," she replied quietly. "But understand, this is a chance. One more broken promise, and I won't be as receptive."

Pedri's shoulders loosened with relief, a small smile on his face. He hadn't expected forgiveness to come this easily, but he was grateful for it.

"I understand," he reassured her. "I won't let you down again, I promise. I'll be there for you, no matter what hermana."

After their conversation, Pedri gathered his courage and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his twin in a tight hug. He held her close, his voice a soft murmur.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said again, his voice gruff with emotion. "I'm sorry for breaking my promise, and I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me."

Y/N, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity in his embrace, hugged him back, a mixture of relief and affection welling up in her.

"I forgive you," she murmured against his shoulder, the words holding not just forgiveness but also a note of understanding. "Just... don't do it again."

Pedri nodded, pulling back from the hug but still holding her by the shoulders, a small but genuine smile on his face. "I won't. I swear."

There was still much to talk about, many things to work through between them, but in this moment, they had taken the first step towards repairing their bond.

As they pulled away from the hug, Pedri couldn't contain his curiosity. He had a sly smile on his face as he looked at his sister.

"So," he began, clearly angling for some information, "What's up with you and Ferran?"

Y/N, catching on to his playful tone, rolled her eyes but couldn't help a small smile from forming.

"None of your business," she replied, but there was a hint of a blush on her cheeks that betrayed her words.

Pedri, encouraged by her reaction, continued to tease her. "Oh, come onnnn. You're not denying it, which means I'm right!" Y/N blushes slightly not really knowing how to answer her twin. “You’re not mad are you?”

Pedri's teasing smile softened into a more genuine one. "Nah, I'm not mad," he reassured her, although there was a hint of a teasing lilt to his voice. "Although, I do feel somewhat betrayed by my best friend for not telling me about this development between him and my sister."

He wagged a finger mock-scoldingly. "Next time, don't keep me in the dark, alright?"

Y/N laughed, feeling a little more relaxed now that they were back on their usual banter terms. "Oh, so now you're jealous that you weren't the first to know?"

Pedri feigned indignation, putting a hand over his heart. "Jealous? Me? I am deeply offended by that accusation!"

Y/N chuckled again, shaking her head. "Sure, sure. Just admit it, you're dying to know the details."

Pedri leaned against the kitchen counter, wearing an exaggeratedly dramatic expression. "Well, since you asked so nicely... yes, I am dying to know. Spill it!"

Y/N regales Pedri with the story of how she and Ferran got together, from the initial friendship to the blossoming romance. Pedri listens intently, interjecting with the occasional teasing comment or cheeky question.

As she finishes, Pedri grins widely. "Well, looks like love is in the air."

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there's a smile on her face. "Shut up."

Pedri laughs, then pulls her into a one-armed hug, his tone serious now. "I'm happy for you, you know. You deserve to be happy."

Y/N hugged him back, the love and gratitude she felt for her brother evident in her smile. "Thanks, Pedri. I appreciate that."

Pedri tousled her hair affectionately. "Anytime. Just remember, if that Ferran breaks your heart, I'll kick his ass."

Y/N laughed, pushing him jokingly. "Noted."

The end.

[abstractppsychopomp]

—on sacrifice and conditioning

"Clones being programmed- nothing controls me!" "Wrecker, it is a logical conclusion that your affinity for destruction would stem from your conditioning." "You take that back!" "I'm merely stating a scientific hypothesis based on factual data." "Oh well I've got a fact for you. I like to blow things up because I like to blow things up!"

Wrecker and Tech, The Bad Batch season 1 episode 1 "Aftermath"

(disclaimer that here I'm talking headcanons, and while it is all based on my personal analysis of canon events, nothing here is 100% canon!)

So.

Reconditioning exists. I first read about it, obviously, on Archive of Our Own, and later researched more for other reasons, to find almost nothing on the topic- one of the most interesting ones regarding the clones, for the simple reason that it is called a reconditioning. To be conditioned again, twice.

What made me really think about this was the fic I wrote, that resolves around Echo's time after Skako Minor, as he deals with grief and loss, and a brief interlude about Dogma and his reconditioning.

So, Wrecker and Tech's conversation is put there before a (n almost) comical situation, them fighting in the cafeteria against the regs, which distracts a bit the watchers from it- and it's a pity, because it's one of the few things The Bad Batch gave to regular clones.

Tech proposes the idea that clones are engineered to be the way that they are, and Wrecker hates the idea, saying that he's his own person and no one made him that way- and it's the most reasonable response, isn't it terrifying to think that you're not a real person but what someone else made you, that what you are, what you feel you feel because someone else wants you to be that way, to feel those things?

They're, of course, both right.

One of the things I liked the least about The Bad Batch was that they gave us a whole show about clones, but defective ones- which is a huge huge deal, and handled "regs" in a really bad way, at least for me.

Not because regs were the "bad guys"- people who are mistreated can mistreat others, I'm not that naive, but they chose to not explore at all the differences between Echo and the others- and I find that the biggest difference is their perception of death.

My whole fic was born because of this- I imagined Echo, after Skako Minor, learning that Fives is dead, that Dogma and Tup and Hardcase are dead, that so many died while he was imprisoned, and the Bad Batch is watching him grieve from the sidelines, knowing nothing about grief.

Yes, they did mourn 99 when he died, but they aren't like other clones, who consider every clone close family and think that dying for them is a duty and honor. They're a tight-knit group, and while they understand sacrifice they're not part of a group of a thousand clones- they're four, they're clones, they have a thing called Plan 99.

Echo has seen thousands die, and is ready to die any day for the Republic, and the Bad Batch in the meanwhile is almost no used at all to the loss of loved ones.

It's enough to compare two sacrifice scenes, Hardcase and Tech, to understand the difference between Echo and the others, and the difference in how the writers perceive regular, ordinary clones and defective, unique clones.

Hardcase sacrifices himself, and Jesse and Fives are clearly sad- but they accept his sacrifice, because it was Hardcase's choice, and they would have done the same. It's a choice made in the moment, but still a sudden thing that they're all ready for- a juxtaposition that for them is the norm.

When Tech dies, they have a plan for just that- self-sacrifice to make the team survive, Plan 99, and they all oppose to that, they all try to stop Tech, they're, not to be mean, way more emotional.

Yes, we spend more time with Tech than with Hardcase, of course his death is written as something way sadder, but we're here to work with what they gave us, so we have two sacrifices.

One accepted in a minute, a name said twice before, a character made to die and make us empathize and suffer for his death, one that left such a deep mark in everyone around it.

Well, it's telling.

In The Clone Wars, we had some arcs dedicated to clones specifically, but most of them were pretty rushed (I have a beef with the way they wrote clones in the animated shows- except Rebels, but Rebels is the My Only Exception the Paramore spoke of), when The Bad Batch was all about clones.

Just not the regular ones.

So we have Echo, and we have the Bad Batch.

Echo, who's more prone to self sacrifice, just like Hardcase and his other brothers, and the Bad Batch, who has a plan made just for that, I repeat.

The Bad Batch received a different treatment from the kaminoans than the regs, which is why they think that regs hate them just because they are what, stronger, more efficient, different?

The so called 'regs' hate them, they do, and they hate them because their defections are called desirable.

(let's not talk about the word 'regs')

If they're clearly called desirable, there are defections that aren't desirable, and what happens to the clones who have them?

Imagine being scared of being different, of sticking out, because it would mean only bad things and danger (for the people who love angst and aren't scared of suffering termination) for them, and then see someone so clearly different and so 'beloved' for it.

Clones are brothers, sisters, siblings, yes, and not only in the way that makes them fluffy and miss each other.

What happens when, let's say, an older sibling sees their younger sister do what they used to do and used to be berated for by their parents, and not suffer any consequences?

In the worst situations, it ends up creating jealousy, hatred, and ruins the relationship as a whole. Or it simply strains it.

This is what they have.

The Bad Batch had a different upbringing, they had a different life, and their chip didn't work.

(Let's not think about Wrecker and Crosshair for a moment, and focus on the others. Hunter and Tech's chips didn't work. Whether it was wanted or not, they didn't. Why? Their defection, again.)

And they're not prone to sacrifice.

That's not the first thing they think about, that's not an easy answer they can give.

Sacrifice is difficult for them.

(less difficult than for a nat-born, more difficult than for a reg)

Now, sacrifice should be difficult for anyone, but it isn't for the clones, who were trained to fight and die for the Republic.

"Live to fight another day" not fight to live another day, because regs have to fight and fight and fight, and sometimes die- die is considered fighting. They were trained to do it, to fight and to die.

And the only reason this could have happened, is conditioning.

There were nat-borns on Kamino, that they met and interacted with, and they studied nat-borns since they had to one day work under them, so they know an alternative to their life, they have the tools to find out that they aren't being treated right. They were conditioned to accept their situation, their life, this life of fighting and dying, because otherwise why would they? Why would CC-8357 choose to die for a Republic who bought him, if he isn't absolutely sure that he is something made to be bought?

so yes.

Does this make Hardcase's sacrifice less important, less genuine? No, it doesn't because conditioning isn't something infinite.

Can we consider it his choice? Yes, I think so, but not a fully rounded one- in the way their choice to fight isn't a real choice, since they had no other options.

Does this make clones less human? Absolutely not, because with every second they spend outside of Kamino they learn and evolve, and this makes any part of their personality ten times more special- imagine being witty, broody, annoying and short-tempered, and imagine being witty, broody, annoying and short-tempered despite having humanity trained out of you.

the clones are so interesting because they should exist in the middle between droid and human, but can't help but be so human that people created enough lore that if someone wants to read on ao3 about them they have to research beforehand! The Clone Wars writers didn't deserve them but we do.

[iid-smile]

waterfall , tomioka giyuu

x gn!reader ! giyuu using his water breathing, he asks for permission to confess and impress you!

author's note: im having writers block with kny specifically (future sunny: thats a bad excuse btw... i just dont because idk what to write for majority of the characters) so literally everything these days is jjk. justice for kny!!!!

double author's note: hi... future sunny here. this message ^^ yeah, that was FOUR WEEKS AGO now its just laziness rather than writers block... thats why the dialogue has literally no description half the time and i really did not want to finish this

triple author's note: ahaha i bet you've never seen three in a row 😈 anyways i forgot to post this after i proofread it half asleep so here u go

"do you like rivers?"

"mhm."

"what about lakes?"

"i like anything to do with water, tomioka. you don't need to worry so much about what i like."

"i'm not worried." giyuu's gaze turns away from you, like it always does, and he looks straight ahead. "there's just something i want to try."

though slightly wary of his intentions, you know that giyuu isn't the type of guy to put you in situations where he doesn't have your consent first. and quite clearly, it's something to do with water, because he's been awfully chatty about different bodies of water, fishes, and just nature in general. it's difficult to make a guess of what he's planning, because sometimes he can just be so unintentionally unpredictable. and weird. he's a weirdo.

you walk behind him so he's able to lead the way. now that he's gone all quiet again, you can't help but furrow your eyebrows a bit. something he wanted to try? what could he possibly want to try in the middle of the night? let alone in a forest...

finally, he comes to a halt. obviously, you're a bit... confused, being stopped in front of a large, and deep body of water surrounded by rocks.

"hold my hand."

"why?"

as if he knew you were going to ask that, he turns to face you with not a single change in his expression, neatly holding out his hand to you. "i'm going to do something, and i don't want you to slip." something. there's that something again.

your eyes flicker from his hand to his face just a few times, then to the surroundings, looking out for anything odd. he wouldn't be the type to prank you, would he?

"do you not trust me?"

"i do. it's just this something that you mention..."

"don't worry. i won't do anything bad."

would it be bad to say that he immediately soothed your worries? he was already speaking more than he usually would, and you noticed his free hand was always on the handle of his sword, so he's vigilant. no worries at all. you take his hand. it's cold, and unexpectedly smooth. "what are you going to do?"

no answer. he takes a step closer to the edge, just one little tip toe away from the surface of the water. "by any chance.." giyuu remains quiet, head bowed to the water below before his eyes move back up to yours. "do you have a significant other?"

"no..."

"then," for a beat, he looks off to the side, and then turns his head back to you. "can i ask for your permission for me to... attempt to court you?"

"ah, is this why you brought me all the way out here? you have feelings for me?"

"...you found me out."

"you just told me that?"

"i didn't mean to."

the back of your hand comes up to your lips, poorly silencing your giggles. "you're a bit silly sometimes."

no response. "come."

giyuu takes a step down from the rocks, and into the body of water. from above, it was difficult to tell how far down the bottom of the lake was. "my clothes—"

he cuts you off. "don't worry. they won't get wet."

maybe he's telling the truth, since his aren't either. one last time, you look down at your covered feet, a nervous twitch running through them as the chill breeze suddenly became so apparent.

immediately, you're met with dreamlike arches of water and splashes surrounding the two of you, frozen in time and unmoving. for the first time, it feels like you're genuinely seeing his breathing technique visually, the sight similar to a vivid lucid dream. except this... this is way better. right in the climax, streams shoot up into the air, curving and twisting to form a heart in the center, then dispersing just as quick, the drops of rain disappearing into nothing as it touches skin.

it was beautiful, but beautiful wasn't even a word good enough to describe it.

"tomioka—?" but as you turn around, giyuu is nowhere to be seen. "huh? tomioka?"

you look left, and you look right. nobody's around: not a single life in sight. the trees are quiet, only the splashing of the waterfall fills in for the lack of noise around. and when you look down at your feet, you only see your legs submerged in water, all the way up to your knees. your haori steadily soaked up the liquid, the material darkening and growing heavier on your shoulders. "my socks!"

yes, you did have to walk home with wet tabi socks and zori with an uncomfortably damp surface. and yes, you did walk home with a constant flutter in your heart, not even knowing when the next time you'll catch a glimpse of him will be.

[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 💙

[elysiaheaven]

𝐋𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝟏𝟕-(The Fox's wedding)

Words:2682

You walked through the bustling streets of the Luofu, you adjusted the fox mask on your face, feeling the familiar weight settle over your features. Jiaoqiu glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow at the sudden reappearance of your mask.

"Why are you wearing that again?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity. "I thought you were done with it for now."

You laughed lightly, shrugging as you turned your head toward him. "Oh, this? I just feel like a chipmunk," you said with a grin, your playful tone making light of the mask. "It suits the vibe, don't you think?"

Jiaoqiu gave you a skeptical look, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he didn't believe a word you were saying. "A chipmunk?" He repeated the word as if testing it on his tongue, clearly unconvinced. "You don't even know what that means, do you?"

You chuckled, sidestepping his question. "Of course I do! It's all about attitude and style. You wouldn't understand," you teased, sticking your tongue out behind the mask. "Besides, it gives me an air of mystery."

Jiaoqiu sighed, shaking his head but not pushing the subject further. He knew there was more behind the mask—something you weren't willing to share just yet. Still, he decided to let it go for now, even though the tension between you two simmered just beneath the surface.

The two of you continued walking, the lively sounds of merchants and travelers filling the air. You felt a slight pang of guilt as you kept the mask on, knowing you weren't being fully honest with him. But hiding behind the mask had always been a way for you to protect yourself, especially when it came to the more vulnerable parts of your heart.

After a moment, Jiaoqiu spoke again, his voice quieter this time. "You don't have to wear it around me, you know."

You paused for a second, feeling his words settle heavily in your chest. "I know," you replied softly, not meeting his eyes. "But sometimes, it's just easier this way."

He walk in front of you. Took your mask away.

Why! Now! STOP!

Tears streamed down your face as you stared at Jiaoqiu, your body trembling as you tried to compose yourself. You reached for your mask, the one you wore when you felt too exposed, too vulnerable, and quickly put it on, hiding behind its cold exterior.

"I enjoyed doing what I did," you said, but your voice cracked under the weight of the lie. You hated it—everything about your past, the choices you made, the lives you hurt. Yet, here you were, trying to convince yourself, convince him, that none of it mattered.

Convince yourself you hurted them!

You did all of those.

Lie, Lie and Lie...So this kind-hearted fox won't leave you to live.

You couldn't..

Jiaoqiu's sharp eyes narrowed at you, catching the quiver in your voice. "If your voice breaks, you're lying," he said softly, but with a firmness that cut through the air between you. He stepped closer, his hand gently touching the mask's edge. "What happened in your past?" he asked, his voice gentler this time. "Tell me."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze, the words sticking in your throat. "It's no use," you muttered, swallowing down the emotions that clawed at your heart. "Talking won't change anything. It's too late for that."

Jiaoqiu stayed silent, his frustration evident, but he didn't push further. He knew that whatever was haunting you was deeper than words could fix. You pulled away from his touch, your hands trembling as you turned your back to him.

  You couldn't face the past—not yet. You needed to bury it a little longer, hide behind your mask and move forward, pretending everything was fine. "There's no point in staying here."

Jiaoqiu sighed, knowing you were deflecting. His eyes softened, but he didn't stop you. "Fine," he said quietly. "But this conversation isn't over. You can't run from this forever."

You walked ahead, the silence between you and Jiaoqiu felt suffocating. The mask on your face was a barrier you couldn't seem to lower, even as every step felt heavier.

"Y/n," Jiaoqiu's voice broke the silence, and you stopped, your heart racing, knowing what he was going to say next. "I need you to open up to me."

You didn't turn around, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. His request was so simple, yet it terrified you. He stepped closer, and you could feel the warmth of his presence behind you.

"You can't keep running from whatever it is that's eating you up inside. I see it, Y/n," Jiaoqiu's voice softened, a strange mix of care and frustration. "If you don't trust me, if you don't open up... how can I help you? How can I even begin to understand?"

You closed your eyes beneath the mask, biting your lip to keep yourself from breaking. The pain you had been carrying, the guilt, the darkness—it was like a storm swirling in your chest. "I'm not... ready," you whispered, barely audible. "I can't... I don't even know where to start."

Jiaoqiu moved in front of you, his hand gently lifting your chin so you had to face him. His eyes bore into yours, filled with an emotion you weren't ready to face. "Start with me," he said quietly. "Start with the truth. I'm not asking you to spill everything all at once, but you need to let me in. Just a little."

You shuddered, feeling your resolve crumble under his gaze. The weight of his words pressed down on you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could crack. "You won't understand..." Your voice broke again, the mask doing little to hide the tremor.

"Try me," Jiaoqiu said, his tone unwavering. "I'm here, aren't I? Even after everything, I'm still here. So stop pretending like you're alone in this."

"...................!!!!!!!"

Your heart pounded as you felt the familiar wave of fear and guilt rise within you, but instead of surrendering to it, you forced a twisted smile onto your face. The mask was back—this time, not on your face but in your words, in the way you carried yourself. You laughed, a hollow sound, and turned away from Jiaoqiu.

"Ah, there it is," you said with a mocking tone, stepping forward with a sway in your hips. "You really fell for it, didn't you? All that crying and pretending to be broken... so easy to get your sympathy." You tossed your head back with another cruel laugh, refusing to look at him. "God, you're so gullible."

Jiaoqiu stood frozen behind you, his eyes narrowing as he tried to understand the sudden shift. His expression was a mix of confusion and something darker, like he was searching for the truth behind your words. "What are you saying?" he asked, his voice calm but with an edge of warning.

You smirked, turning just enough so he could see the coldness in your gaze. "I'm saying it was all an act. The tears, the confession. I knew exactly what to say to make you pity me." You shrugged, nonchalant, though your insides were twisting painfully. "And it worked like a charm, didn't it?"

Jiaoqiu's eyes hardened, his jaw tightening as he watched you carefully. He wasn't buying it, not entirely. But you could see the doubt forming in his mind, the uncertainty creeping into his features. It hurt to see, but you couldn't stop now. You had to push him away—had to make him believe you were the monster you always feared you were.

You walked ahead, turning your back on him, keeping your head high. "I can't wait to kill you, Jiaoqiu," you said, your voice sickeningly sweet, like it was all a joke. "Maybe not today, but soon. It's going to be so easy."

The silence behind you stretched painfully, and for a moment, you almost stopped—almost turned around to take it all back. But you didn't. You couldn't. You were too far gone in this act, and the pain inside you was too deep.

But he didn't respond the way you expected. No sharp retort, no anger in his voice. Instead, Jiaoqiu's voice was calm, steady. "You're lying."

Your steps faltered, but you didn't turn around.

"You think I can't tell?" His voice was closer now, soft but certain. "You're trying to push me away because you're scared. But this—this isn't who you are, Y/n."

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms. "What do you know?" you spat, but the venom in your voice was faltering, cracking.

"I know enough," Jiaoqiu said, his hand brushing your arm lightly. "I know that everything you just said is a lie. You don't want to kill me. You're scared of losing me."

You laughed, a wild and bitter sound, pushing away the tenderness of the moment with a cruel edge. "You're an idiot," you sneered, the words coming out sharper than you intended, but you leaned into it, masking the pain in your chest. "Such a damn fool. I hope the worst for you." You stepped closer, grabbing the front of his shirt, and pulled him into a kiss—harsh, needy, and far from loving. It was filled with desperation, as though you were trying to convince him, or maybe yourself, that you were still in control.

Jiaoqiu's body tensed against yours, and when you pulled away, you saw the confusion in his eyes, the shock. "What... what are you doing?" His voice wavered slightly, not with fear but with a kind of disbelief. He searched your face, like he was trying to find the real you beneath the mask you had thrown on.

You laughed again, leaning back as you waved your hand dismissively. "The lust, Jiaoqiu. That's all it ever was," you said, voice dripping with false amusement. "That's why you care, right? Why you're so obsessed with me?" You tilted your head, a twisted smile curling your lips. "I mean, who wouldn't be? That's all this is—a game to feed your desire. And when you're done, I'll just kill you."

You laughed, the sound hollow and bitter, though it masked the trembling inside. "You're such an idiot, Jiaoqiu. An idiot for even trying to understand me." You pushed against his chest, but it wasn't to break free—it was to pull him closer, as if mocking your own pain. "I hope so many bad things happen to you. I hope you regret everything."

Jiaoqiu's face twisted, a flicker of something dark flashing in his eyes as he stared at you, unsure whether to believe the cruelty in your words or the pain you were trying to hide.

"I can't wait to kill you," you repeated, your voice breaking as you forced yourself to smile, to laugh. "Can't wait." The laughter felt foreign, bitter, choking you as it tumbled out. You moved closer to him, your breath hot against his skin. "Now kiss me again. Like it's all about lust. That's all it is, right?"

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. But then, as if something inside him snapped, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him, his lips crashing onto yours. You kissed him back with the same intensity, frantic, desperate to make him believe your lie, even though it hurt more than you could bear.

You cried as you kissed him, your tears wetting your cheeks, but you laughed in between, trying to mask the truth. "See? It's all lust," you whispered against his lips, laughing even as the sobs wracked your body. "That's all it's ever been."

Jiaoqiu pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, his face tight with frustration and something else you couldn't place. He cupped your face, his thumb wiping away your tears even as he kissed you again, trying to silence the lies you kept feeding him.

Jiaoqiu's lips crashed against yours, his kiss rough, trying to shut you up. But you kept laughing, each kiss making the laughter more manic. "It's lust, Jiaoqiu! All lust!" you giggled between breaths, your voice rising with each word, mocking the bond you once shared. You could see the conflict in his eyes as he kissed you, but it only made you laugh harder. He was falling for your lies, the very lies you'd built around yourself like a shield.

"More lies on top of lies," you whispered against his lips, your laughter hollow and sharp. "It's so easy to fool you." Your laughter filled the small alley, echoing off the walls as if you were trying to drown out your own emotions.

He didn't stop. His grip tightened on your waist, and his kisses became more desperate, as if he were trying to make sense of the chaos you were creating. He could feel something was wrong, but he couldn't see past the mask you'd put on. Your tears mixed with your laughter, the contradictions within you swirling into a mess that you couldn't untangle anymore.

"Lies... so many lies," you kept saying, your voice shaking now, the laughter sounding forced, like it hurt to keep it going. "I'm so good at this, aren't I?" You kissed him again, biting his lip just enough to make it sting, as if punishing yourself for every word.

Jiaoqiu pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, his eyes searching your face for something—anything real. "Stop this," he muttered, his voice low but firm, as if he didn't know whether to be angry or heartbroken. "Stop lying."

You laughed again, louder this time, pushing him back playfully, though the ache in your chest grew heavier. "What's the matter, Jiaoqiu? Can't handle the truth? Or is it that you can't handle the lies?" You laughed, but it was more of a sob now, your body trembling as you forced out the sound.

You wanted him to see through it, to call you out, to make it stop. But instead, he kissed you again, and the bitterness of it all consumed you. "Lust... lies... lust," you chanted between kisses, the weight of your own deception crushing you inside.

You grabbed Jiaoqiu's face, pulling him closer, your hands trembling as they cupped his head. Your laughter was broken, the sound manic and desperate as you choked out, "It's all lust, Jiaoqiu! Just lust!" You laughed, but your voice cracked, betraying the real emotion underneath.

Your fingers dug into his scalp, and his eyes locked onto yours, searching for something, anything that would make sense of your words. But all you could do was laugh, the sound twisted and hollow. Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, your laughter bordering on hysterical, the pain in your chest threatening to tear you apart.

"It's all lust!" you shouted again, your voice raw as the tears continued to fall. But the laughter wouldn't stop, even though it hurt, even though you knew it wasn't true. You laughed like you could drown out the truth, like you could bury the pain under your lies.

Jiaoqiu's hands gripped your wrists, trying to steady you, his eyes filled with confusion and pain. "Stop," he whispered, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. But you couldn't stop. You didn't know how anymore.

"It's just lust, you idiot!" you cried out, forcing a grin, trying to convince him, trying to convince yourself. But the laughter gave way to sobs, and you collapsed into him, burying your face in his chest as you broke down completely.

Your shoulders shook as the sobs wracked your body, and Jiaoqiu held you tight, his arms wrapping around you, no words left to say. He didn't care about the lies you told. He could see past them now, see the torment in your eyes, the pain you couldn't hide anymore.

Your voice was barely a whisper now, muffled against his chest. "It's all lies..."

[thecohenpazo]

Reasons The Minecraft Movie Will Be Terrible:

*LIVE ACTION*

This is the first mistake Warner Brothers made. Minecraft is a game that is known best for being an open, desolate world, without human life to interact with. What little of the world is made for you is ruined and abandoned. To see people here is to discredit the heart and soul of this game, which is that there is no one. You make the rules, you create the story.

*VISUALS*

Not only did they pull 0 real textures, geometry, lighting, colors, world generation, *anything*, they made it look like one of those, "Minecraft Realistic TexturePacks". The lighting changes between different shots of the same scene. The creatures look nothing like the games.

*AUDIO*

Minecraft is not a loud, booming game. It's a quiet, lonely setting, where you explore and build to settle yourself into a world. The music is absent most times, and when it fades in it makes one feel like what you've done has meaning. When you find a music disc, suddenly you have control over the noise around. The ambience of cave noises scared you when you were younger. The iconic sounds of mining, placing blocks, ring out in the minds of half the world.

The protagonists, don't need to speak. In fact, it detracts from the story if they do. Steve could be anyone, he tells all of our story's. Put a voice in him, and now he's just Jack Black.

*PLOT*

-Jokes: Usuallly, in a trailer for a movie, the humor can be quite telling of the whole experience. If two of the only trailer worthy jokes are animals making funny sounds, what does that mean for the rest? Minecraft isn't a funny game. It can be, of course, but for the most part, it's about finding some semblance of self in a world of no one.

-Cast: Piglins, in recent years, have become a sort of mascot for Minecraft as an antagonist. However, we've had far better antagonists that fit with Minecraft's design much better. A quiet, taunting menace. One who's been here from the start; Herobrine. The spiders and skeletons and creepers and zombies. The loneliness of the big world. The claustrophobia of the caves. The friends we lost along the way.

-Characters: Not very long ago, there were but two characters in Minecraft: Steve and Alex. But now there is a whole slew of misfits to include. I think something key about all these characters is, none of them need a voice. You don't need a celebrity actor to play Steve (sorry Jack). You can just have him be, show his emotions by how he interacts with the world.

-The True Story Of Minecraft: It's quite simple really. It's whatever you make of it. Sure, there are puzzle pieces, ruins strewn about, audio in discs, a poem at the end of the game, but truly, there is no real end. When you decide you've done what you came to do, you log out, and that's that. A movie about a silent character, moving through a world empty of kinship, creating something beautiful that others may never see. Or a movie about a group of friends, working together to make a mark on the land. Whatever it may be, *that*, is Minecraft. Minecraft is a story built on common experiences. Remember breaking a painting over and over to get the one you want? Remember trying a million ways to craft things? Remember believing in herobrine, trying to summon him?

This movie is just a cheap cash grab, meant to capitalize of the youths inability to judge a quality movie, and a lack of understanding of what this game means.

Go fuck yourselves, Warner Bros.

If you want some good alternatives, check out DAWN - A Minecraft Fan Film from Skyminer, Minecraft Anime Opening from DinxieMintie, Minecraft From The Mobs Perspective from Jackson Field, and many more!