#But like there were no actual romantic emotions there

[shaiyasstuff]

intimacy | rafayel

synopsis : You and Rafayel have been dating for almost a year. He’s the perfect man for you, sweet, caring, a little aloof but he’s also very good at making you safe. However, he’s never initiated contact with you beyond just a kiss. One girl talk later, you find yourself wondering if it was time to give it a try.

content : smut(well it’s more romance than actual smut), first time, no pull out, a little bit of awkward ness, rafayel x non-mc!reader, Shaiya is an OC, fluff, MDNI

writer’s note : i have no idea how to write smut, but I decided I should try to learn now LOL

You’ve been dating Rafayel for over a year now.

You first met him at the amusement park one evening, when you overheard a particularly dramatic sulk-fest about a missing cotton candy.

Apparently, some kid had “stolen” it from him.

You later found out his lady hunter friend had given it away.

Willingly and with a smile.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Out loud. Before you could slap a hand over your mouth, it was too late.

Two pairs of eyes landed on you.

One, vaguely confused and highly entertained.

The other, hopelessly love-struck.

He asked for your number five minutes later, pressured—or really, bullied—by his lady hunter friend, who gave him a not-so-subtle jab in the ribs and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like “grow a pair.”

The next day, he brought you to the sea.

Just a chill, no-pressure, totally-not-romantic beach date.

Until he asked you to be his girlfriend with all the nervous energy of a schoolboy confessing to his crush behind the gym.

And things just… took off.

You had café dates where you tried, and failed, to beat him at Kitty Cards.

You endured constant third-wheeling by his lady hunter friend, who took it upon herself to be your official ship captain—teasing the both of you mercilessly and often.

Despite the chaos, you were genuinely happy.

Life was good.

You had a boyfriend who was equal parts adorable and infuriating, and a new best friend who always had your back when said boyfriend decided to be a lovable idiot.

Then came the day it hit you.

Like a truck.

Or a surprise test.

You were lounging in your living room with Shaiya, legs tossed over your couch arm, when she peeked at you over a bag of chips and asked with a smirk, “So… have you two done it yet?”

You choked on your drink. “Excuse me?”

But before you could even mount a proper comeback, something clicked.

Wait.

Hold on.

In the ten months you'd been dating Rafayel, he hadn’t initiated anything even remotely intimate.

You gasped. “…No…”

The horror in your voice only made it worse.

That was all the invitation Shaiya needed. Your loveable—albeit infuriating—lady hunter friend burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as she doubled over.

“Don’t laugh!” you hissed, watching her wipe away tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I was just asking for fun,” she said with a smug grin. “You’re the one who took it seriously. That’s one point for me, zero for you.”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “You’re right. He’s sweet. He’s an adorable puppy when we’re out and about, but I’ve never… thought of that.”

Her laughter softened, and so did her expression.

“Maybe it’ll happen soon. Don’t let it get you down.”

You threw her a half-hearted glare. “Now I’m insecure.”

That set her off again.

She laughed, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sorry! But it’s part of my job, being your personal third wheel and emotional instigator. Besides,” she leaned in slightly, her tone more sincere now, “if I don’t talk to you about this, who else will?”

You paused. She wasn’t wrong.

There weren’t many women in your life you could talk to like this. And the old lady who sold potato sticks outside the café definitely didn’t count.

You let out a quiet sigh. “I just… never really thought about that.”

Your voice dropped as the weight of the thought settled.

Shaiya reached out and rubbed your shoulder gently. “Hey. I’m sorry if I went too far.”

You gave her a faint smile. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…”

Your words drifted off.

It wasn’t like you actually wanted Rafayel to be intimate with you.

Well. Maybe you did.

But it had never been the point.

You liked the playful arguments. The way he curled around you on the couch when you were sick or too tired to move.

The quiet comfort of simply existing beside him while he just… was.

And somehow, that had always felt like more than enough.

A knock tapped gently against the doorframe.

Both you and Shaiya looked up.

Rafayel stood there, casually leaning against the wood, his dusky purple hair slightly tousled, a paint-stained jacket slung over one shoulder.

His mismatched eyes flicked to you, then to Shaiya, one brow raising with practiced laziness.

“Well, well,” he said, voice smooth and low, “should I be worried, or flattered?”

Shaiya grinned. “You’re always worried and flattered.”

“I prefer revered, personally.” His gaze settled on you, softer now. “Everything alright?”

Your heart hiccuped.

You nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Just… girl talk.”

“Dangerous territory.” He stepped in, the scent of charcoal and citrus trailing after him. “I could feel the emotional tension from the hallway.”

Shaiya laughed. “I should go before I get accused of emotional arson.”

She rose and headed to the door, whispering as she passed you, “Think about what we said.” Then she tossed a wink at Rafayel. “Be gentle with her.”

He gave a mocking bow. “Always.”

When the door clicked shut, silence settled between you two.

Not uncomfortable, but charged.

Rafayel stayed near the door for a moment, watching you.

Then he crossed the room and lowered himself beside you with a graceful kind of stillness, the way he always moved when he wasn’t performing for the world.

“She meant well,” he said, voice barely above a murmur. “But she rattled you.”

You looked at your hands. “She just… made me think about things I wasn’t ready to think about.”

His fingers brushed yours. “Things like me?”

You didn’t answer. He didn’t push.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, eyes searching your face—not with judgment, but a quiet kind of curiosity, as if trying to see what you were protecting.

“I never expected you to be ready,” he said finally, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

There was no playful smirk now. No lazy swagger.

Just Rafayel, stripped of all the performative charm. Just him—deep and devastating and completely real.

And in that stillness, something shifted.

Maybe it was the way he didn’t demand anything. Or the way he offered the truth so gently.

But maybe—just maybe—you were starting to think about him after all.

“Well…” you began, turning to face him slowly, unsure where the words would land.

“I mean… we’ve kissed. A few times.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that same unreadable calm, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “Yeah…?” he said. “That’s normal, isn’t it?”

You nodded too quickly, then froze, your thoughts catching up to you a beat too late.

The memory of those kisses—soft, fleeting, innocent—brushed through your mind.

But then your thoughts slipped further, imagining what could come next. What might come next.

And suddenly, your face burned.

You glanced away, unable to hold his gaze now.

The idea of anything more than those kisses… anything more than the safe rhythm you’d settled into with Rafayel…

It felt daunting.

Especially when you looked at him.

Your boyfriend, with his tousled hair and teasing grin, who always reminded you of an affectionate puppy curled too close to the fire.

It was hard to align that image with the heat curling in your stomach.

Hard to reconcile the softness he gave you with the weight of want.

Rafayel leaned in a little, not close enough to crowd you, but enough for his voice to dip lower.

“Are you scared?”

You hesitated, then whispered, “I don’t know.”

And that was the truth.

You weren’t scared of him. Not really.

You trusted him with your life.

It was the idea. The change.

The possibility of crossing that invisible line where intimacy stopped being soft and started becoming something raw, something deeper, something you couldn’t undo.

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease.

He just nodded, like he understood.

“Then we don’t rush,” he said simply. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

And that, somehow, made your heart ache more than if he’d kissed you right then and there.

Because he meant it.

Because he saw you.

“I mean…” you trailed off again, glancing at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you have… needs?”

The words hung in the air like fog—equal parts awkward, honest, and unintentionally hilarious.

You watched his expression shift, not in offense or surprise, but in that subtle way he always did when he was trying to read between your words.

There was no malice in your question. No pressure.

Just confusion.

Because it had started to gnaw at the edges of your thoughts—this quiet, growing need to understand him.

To repay him, even, in your own clumsy way.

For tying your shoelaces without being asked. For picking up the things you dropped when your hands were too full.

For tucking you in during thunder-heavy nights and crawling under the covers just to be near, to be warm, to be something steady when your world wasn’t.

For all the ways he took care of you without ever asking for anything in return.

And that’s what made it strange.

That he had never once initiated anything beyond a kiss.

Never reached for more.

Rafayel blinked slowly, his lips quirking—not into a smirk, but into something softer. Something unreadable.

“I have needs,” he said eventually, voice smooth, but not flippant. “But they’re not more important than you.”

You felt your breath catch.

“But… I want to make you happy,” you murmured. “Isn’t that part of it? Like… giving back?”

A shadow crossed his features, fleeting but there. He reached over, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone. “I do those things because I want to. Not because I expect something in return.”

You looked down at your joined hands.

“I just… thought maybe you were waiting. Or holding back. For me.”

“I am,” he said, without hesitation. “But that’s not a burden. That’s a choice.”

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, warm and unhurried.

“You’re not a debt to be paid. You’re a story I want to keep reading, one page at a time.”

Your cheeks flushed hot, your heart thrumming in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

It was the way he looked at you—like you were already enough.

And that, somehow, made you want him even more.

“But what if… I want to?”

Your voice was barely more than a breath, but it was enough to break the quiet between you.

You hesitantly lifted your gaze to him.

Rafayel’s expression softened immediately, as if the weight of your vulnerability wrapped around him like silk. Not fragile, but precious.

You felt nervous—tingly all over, your skin aware of every inch of space between you and him.

He was the first.

The first guy you’d let this close. The first who made it past the walls you didn’t even realize you’d built.

You’d never actually done it before.

Never crossed that invisible line with anyone.

And now, here you were—sitting beside the man who looked at you like you were made of starlight and sea glass. Like fire couldn’t burn him if it came from you.

“I…” You swallowed. “I’ve never done this. With anyone.”

Rafayel didn’t move at first. His gaze lingered on your face, absorbing every word you didn’t say.

Then, gently, he reached up—fingertips brushing the side of your cheek, slow and featherlight.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For trusting me with that.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in, close enough that his forehead almost touched yours, but stopped short. His voice dropped to a near whisper.

“If you’re ready, really ready… then I’ll be whatever you need. I’ll move at your pace. I’ll hold you. Kiss you. Worship every inch of you.”

A flush bloomed down your neck.

“But if there’s even a sliver of doubt,” he continued, thumb brushing your jaw, “then I won’t lay a finger on you. Because I want all of you. Not just your body.”

You nodded slowly, your heart thrumming in your chest like wings caught in wind.

Rafayel didn’t ask again. He didn’t rush.

He just waited.

And something about that—about him—made your fear melt into something warm.

Something that felt like love.

You stayed still, your breath mingling with his, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

Rafayel didn’t move any closer. He didn’t try to sway your decision.

He just stayed there—close enough to feel, but far enough to wait.

Your fingers twitched against your lap before finding his. You laced them together, slowly, tentatively, and he squeezed once. Firm. Steady.

“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” you whispered. “But I know I want you.”

His smile was soft, almost pained in how tender it looked on him. His eyes shimmered—not with fire this time, but something far more fragile.

“You already have me,” he said.

There was no heat behind his words. No hunger, no pressure. Just truth.

And for the first time, that truth didn’t feel daunting. It felt like a quiet, open sky.

You leaned into him, letting your forehead touch his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you like you were something precious, not breakable—but worth protecting.

His breath came slow, steady, and you felt it rise and fall beneath your cheek.

No more words were needed.

No promises, no decisions.

Just this—warm skin, slow breaths, the sound of his heart beneath your ear.

He held you like that until your nerves melted into calm. Until the tremble in your hands faded into stillness.

And outside, the night rolled on, untouched.

—•

When you woke the next morning, everything felt soft.

The light was dim, filtered through the curtains in streaks of pale gold.

The room was still, quiet, heavy with the warmth of sleep.

You blinked slowly, disoriented at first, until the familiar scent of smoke and citrus drifted through your senses.

You shifted slightly.

That was when you felt it.

Something firm, pressing lightly against your lower belly.

You froze.

Rafayel was still asleep, his arm draped around your waist, his breathing slow and even beside your ear. His body curled protectively around you, one leg tangled with yours, holding you in place as if even in dreams he couldn’t bear to let go.

And you realized, slowly, that you were still on the couch.

The two of you must’ve fallen asleep like that last night, somewhere between hushed confessions and shared stillness.

You swallowed.

You had never noticed things like this before. You’d always been so… innocent.

But after yesterday—after Shaiya’s teasing and the conversation that followed—you were suddenly aware.

Aware of the way Rafayel’s body was pressed to yours.

Of the heat between you.

Of every subtle shift in his breath when your thighs brushed.

You felt your heart stutter in your chest, a flush creeping up your neck.

Not from fear.

But from knowing.

From finally understanding the unspoken gravity that came with loving someone like this.

You tilted your head, just slightly, watching him. His hair had fallen over his eyes, his expression soft, almost boyish in sleep.

Still, there was something undeniably real about him like this.

Vulnerable.

Human.

And maybe a little bit yours.

You closed your eyes again, pressing your face gently against his collarbone.

You weren’t ready for everything.

But you were ready to hold this moment.

To feel.

To want.

And to slowly, carefully, let yourself fall.

You weren’t sure how to do it.

Your knowledge was limited to a blurry, awkward twenty-minute video from sex ed in high school, filled with sterile diagrams and uncomfortable silence.

Nothing about it had prepared you for this.

For the quiet rise and fall of Rafayel’s chest beneath your cheek.

For the weight of his arm still around your waist. For the strange, beautiful ache blooming low in your belly—tender, unexplainable, but insistent.

There was no plan. No clear thought.

Just a need.

Something stirring and restless and new.

You shifted carefully, your fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt as you tilted your head.

Your lips brushed his collarbone.

Featherlight.

A second kiss followed. Then another.

Each one just a little more deliberate. A little more brave.

You felt it when he stirred.

The faint hitch in his breath.

The way his muscles tensed slightly beneath you, as though part of him was trying not to move.

But he didn’t stop you.

He stayed still. Waiting.

You kissed your way higher, barely skimming skin, heart hammering in your chest. It wasn’t about knowing what to do.

It was about feeling.

Rafayel shifted, just enough for his hand to find the small of your back.

Not pulling you closer—just resting there.

Warm. Grounding.

His voice came low and rough with sleep.

“…Y/N?”

You froze, your lips hovering near his throat. Embarrassment flooded your chest.

“Sorry,” you whispered, already pulling back. “I didn’t mean—”

His hand tightened just slightly, not to stop you, but to hold the moment in place.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured. “Just… tell me what you want.”

You looked at him.

Really looked at him.

Hair tousled, eyes still hazy with sleep, voice like smoldering embers.

He looked breathtaking like this.

And vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before—waiting for your answer, for your choice.

“I don’t know how,” you admitted softly.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Then we’ll learn together.”

There was no urgency in him. No hunger that would push past your hesitation.

Only patience. Only care.

And in that silence between your heartbeat and his, you realized this was what it meant to be ready.

Not to know everything.

But to want to share the unknown—with him.

Rafayel’s touch was warm against your back, his fingers tracing lazy, soothing circles as if he were trying to calm not just your nerves, but his own.

You felt the way your heart stammered against your ribs.

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but you knew one thing.

You wanted him.

Not just in the way people talked about behind closed doors, not just out of curiosity or some shallow idea of closeness.

You wanted this.

This softness.

This warmth.

The reverence in his voice.

The way he looked at you like you were something sacred.

You tilted your head, brushing another kiss over his collarbone.

He exhaled slowly, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

Your eyes met.

And even though your chest felt tight and your fingers trembled, you whispered, “I want to.”

His expression softened.

Not with desire—but with something deeper.

Something tender.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

You nodded. “I don’t know how. But I want it to be with you.”

Upon hearing that, there was a subtle flicker of something in his eyes.

Something that resembled desire.

Rafayel leaned in and kissed you, slow and full of meaning, as if he’d waited forever to be told that.

His lips moved against yours with care, slow and deliberate, as if he was memorizing the shape of your mouth with every kiss.

He gave you space to breathe between them, never rushing, never pushing.

But then, something shifted.

A warmth, low and unfamiliar, unfurled beneath your belly—soft at first, then insistent.

You found yourself leaning into him, seeking more, like your body was moving on its own.

And when you exhaled a quiet moan into his mouth, you felt it.

The way his body tensed against yours.

Rafayel pulled back, barely, his forehead resting against yours as he fought for breath.

“I can’t hold back,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “not if you sound like that.”

His eyes met yours, no longer just soft with affection.

They burned now.

Still full of love, but threaded with something deeper—raw need, and desire so carefully restrained it made your chest ache.

You could see it in the way his jaw tightened. In the subtle tremor in his arm as he held himself still.

You reached up, brushing your thumb gently along his cheek.

And with a soft, trembling smile, you whispered, “Then don’t.”

His lips found yours again—this time with hunger.

There was no hesitation now, no careful pauses between kisses. Just heat. Intention.

You startled slightly at the sudden intensity, but his hands were already there, grounding you, guiding you—and soon enough, you melted into him.

The kiss deepened, breath hitching between the spaces where your mouths met.

Soft, involuntary sounds slipped from your throat—quiet, breathy mewls that you couldn’t have held back even if you tried.

And that was all it took.

Whatever restraint Rafayel had left unraveled, unraveling with the delicate curve of your waist beneath his palms, the way your fingers clutched at his shirt like you needed more of him.

His hands roamed now—reverent, searching, hungry. Not to claim, but to feel.

Desire poured off of him, thick and tangible, warm enough to set your skin alight beneath his touch.

And through it all, he still moved with care, even in his urgency.

As if your body was a canvas, and he wanted to memorize it with every brush of his hands.

Every kiss tasted like longing.

Every breath felt borrowed from something sacred.

And still, you wanted more.

When his fingers found the hem of your shirt, he stilled.

The heat between you didn’t fade, but his hands—once so eager—held still now, trembling faintly as his eyes rose to meet yours.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

It was written all over him.

The reverence. The restraint.

The barely contained desire he kept shackled beneath every careful breath.

You nodded.

Just once. But it was enough.

His jaw tensed, and he exhaled slowly, as though the motion alone steadied him. Then, with hands that betrayed nothing of the fire he felt, he lifted your shirt—inch by inch, never rushing, never daring to look away from your face.

As if watching for the moment you might change your mind.

But you didn’t.

You let him undress you with that quiet devotion, every movement full of patience, full of care.

His touch never once felt greedy.

Only awed.

As though this was something sacred. As though you were.

And in that silence between heartbeats, you realized—he wasn’t just touching your skin.

He was memorizing you.

His lips found your collarbone, warm and open, pressing kisses that trailed lower with aching slowness.

Each one was deliberate. Soft. Reverent.

You gasped, the sound catching somewhere between surprise and surrender, as a moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

It was a sensation unlike anything you’d ever known—foreign, yes, but raw and deeply, inexplicably real.

His mouth moved against your skin like he was learning it, worshiping it. Like this was something sacred to him, something he didn’t dare rush.

Your breath came shallow now, fingers curling gently into the fabric of his shirt, the weight of his body a comforting warmth above yours.

Rafayel paused only to look up at you again, his lips brushing just below your throat, his voice low and rough with restraint.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, as if the words weren’t for you, but something he needed to say aloud. Something he needed you to know.

And with every kiss that followed, you believed him a little more.

You let yourself explore him with trembling hands—fingertips grazing along his collarbone, then gliding lower, over the firm lines of his chest and the warmth of his skin.

He felt solid beneath your touch, alive and real in a way that sent shivers across your spine.

Your palms traveled along the curve of his back, tracing the dips of muscle, the heat of him burning beneath your skin.

Rafayel inhaled sharply, his hands catching yours in his own, gripping them tightly.

Not to stop you.

But to hold you.

As if anchoring himself.

As if grounding you both in this fragile, precious space between hesitation and surrender.

His fingers wove through yours, then slowly guided your hands back to him, encouraging, wordless, wanting.

He made you feel safe even in your uncertainty—made you forget the quiet fear of not knowing what came next.

Because with him, it wasn’t about perfection.

It was about presence.

And the way his body reacted to yours—the slight tremble in his breath, the way his muscles tensed when your touch lingered—made something ache sweetly within you.

His mouth returned to your throat, kisses hotter now, lingering longer, trailing lower.

When his lips closed gently around your skin and sucked, your breath hitched, a soft sound leaving you without permission.

The friction of your bare skin against his, the growing heat, the mounting need between your legs—it was all overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

And when his hands slid down your sides, drawing you flush against him, every inch of you humming, you let yourself stop thinking.

You just felt.

You moaned again, breath catching sharply, when his fingers found your nipple—already sensitive, already aching for more.

The contact sent a jolt through your body, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Rafayel’s eyes darkened at the sound, and in one swift, practiced motion, he unclasped your bra, letting the fabric fall away.

Then came the heat of his mouth.

Warm. Wet.

You almost cried out at the sudden sensation—his tongue swirling, lips pulling gently around the peak of your breast.

It was overwhelming, the way he worshipped you, the way his mouth moved with such purpose and reverence that your spine arched off the couch.

You felt his hands on your hips, steadying you, holding you in place as he continued—slow, focused, unrelenting in the way he tasted you.

Your hands threaded through his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as your body writhed beneath his.

Every flick of his tongue sent sparks scattering through you, every subtle graze of his teeth made your thighs clench, the heat building between them unbearable.

And through it all, he never rushed.

He took his time—worshipping you like you were the only thing that existed.

And in that moment, in his arms, beneath his mouth, you felt like you were.

“R–Rafayel…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need.

Your fingers tangled into his lilac waves, clutching them tightly as your body instinctively arched into his mouth. You pulled him closer, unable to help yourself, craving more of his warmth—his weight, his worship.

He growled low in his throat, the sound rumbling against your skin like thunder.

The way his name spilled from your lips—it undid him.

His tongue returned to your nipple, this time slower, more deliberate, tracing teasing circles before flicking softly across the sensitive tip.

The sensation sent your breath stuttering, your moans spilling freely now, raw and unrestrained.

You could feel him pressing against you, his arousal impossible to ignore—thick and straining against his jeans, the heat of it pressing right into the growing ache between your thighs.

Even through the layers of fabric, the pressure made your body tremble, made you more aware of how badly you wanted him—every inch of him.

Your legs shifted instinctively, parting just enough to invite him closer, to let him settle between them.

He rose slowly, lips trailing up your body, peppering your skin with kisses as he came to hover over you. His breath was ragged now, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with desire, but still watching you—checking, searching, waiting for your consent.

His voice, when it came, was rough and strained.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “Anything, and it’s yours.”

“You,” you breathed, barely able to form the word. “I want you.”

And with that, whatever thin thread of restraint Rafayel had been clinging to snapped.

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was nothing like before—sloppy, desperate, filled with the kind of need that had been simmering far too long beneath the surface.

You gasped into his mouth, startled and breathless, but welcoming it—welcoming him.

His hands fumbled at the button of his jeans, the motion rushed, clumsy in a way that made your heart stutter. This wasn’t polished or perfect. This was real.

Raw.

Human.

And it made your chest ache with affection, even as your body burned for more.

He kissed you through it—deep and unrelenting—and when your lips parted on a shaky breath, he took the invitation without hesitation.

His tongue slid against yours, slow and claiming, exploring you like he had all the time in the world.

You whimpered beneath him, hips lifting instinctively as your thighs framed his waist, inviting him closer, pulling him in.

The heat of his body pressed into yours, every inch of him now impossibly close, and still it didn’t feel like enough.

You wanted all of him.

Not just the weight, the warmth, the passion.

You wanted the connection.

The kind that set fire to your body and soothed your soul all at once.

And Rafayel—he gave it.

Every kiss. Every touch. Every breath.

All of it, only ever for you.

He pulled away from the kiss, breathless, lips swollen and eyes dark with heat.

“I have to prepare you,” he murmured, voice husky and low. “Is that okay?”

You couldn’t find your voice, so you nodded—your body already trembling with anticipation.

Rafayel’s hands moved with care, helping you out of your underwear.

Every movement was gentle, reverent, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch you like this.

You nearly cried out when you felt it.

Hot. Wet. Unbelievably intimate.

His tongue pressed firmly against your core, slow and purposeful, and your back arched instinctively off the couch.

Your toes curled, thighs snapping shut on instinct, but his strong hands were already there, holding you open, steady, as he groaned into you.

The sound vibrated through your skin, deep and raw, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you.

“So… sweet,” he breathed between licks, his voice thick with hunger and awe.

He devoured you slowly, like he had all the time in the world, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered.

Each stroke of his tongue was deliberate—teasing, tasting, coaxing soft, helpless sounds from your throat that only seemed to spur him on.

And all the while, his grip never loosened.

Like he needed to keep you close. Like he wanted you to fall apart in his hands.

And slowly, piece by piece, you did.

The sounds—wet, lewd, unrestrained—filled the quiet of your living room, echoing off the walls like a secret you were no longer trying to hide.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not when he was between your thighs like this.

Not when Rafayel, your purple-haired boyfriend who always held you like you were something fragile, was now tasting you like you were something divine.

He buried himself between your legs with single-minded devotion, tongue gliding through your folds, slow at first, then firmer—more confident—as he found the places that made you gasp and twitch beneath his hold.

Your fingers dug into the cushions, your hips rolling into his mouth without thought, chasing every flick and swirl of his tongue.

He groaned again, the sound low and hungry, vibrating against your sensitive skin as he mouthed at you like he was drunk on the taste of you.

And maybe he was.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open wider, grounding you while your legs trembled around his shoulders.

You felt exposed, undone, utterly vulnerable.

But with him—there was no shame.

Only heat.

Only want.

Only the slow, steady build of something that was about to consume you whole.

Something coiled deep under your belly—tight and burning, like a knot drawn taut with every languid stroke of his tongue.

Your breath came in shaky gasps, the tension building faster than you could keep up with. Your body trembled, hips rising instinctively to meet his mouth, to chase the feeling you were terrified and desperate to reach.

Your fingers found his hair, sinking into the soft lilac strands, gripping tight as your body began to shake.

“R–Rafayel,” you gasped, your voice high and breathless.

He growled softly at the sound, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you as he doubled down, tongue flicking and pressing with deliberate, perfect rhythm.

The coil inside you tightened to the breaking point.

You were unraveling beneath him, your entire body flushed, teetering at the edge of something you had no words for—only feeling.

“Just let it go,” he cooed gently.

Rafayel’s hands never left you, his grip firm on your hips as he kept you grounded, held you open, guided you through it.

You felt yourself shatter.

Quietly.

Completely.

With his name on your lips and his mouth still worshipping you like you were something holy.

You were still shaking, the aftershocks rippling through your limbs like waves on a trembling shore.

Before you could catch your breath, his lips were on yours again—urgent, hungry, claiming.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, warm and heady, as he kissed you with a passion that made your head spin.

Your moan was muffled by his mouth, your mind hazy and dazed from the high you had barely begun to come down from.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as you felt him slide into you, slow but unrelenting.

You broke the kiss with a choked cry, the stretch overwhelming, unfamiliar, real.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, not exactly, but from the intensity of it all.

The sensation. The closeness. The raw, unfiltered reality of finally becoming one with him.

Rafayel stilled immediately, his hands cradling your face as he leaned in close, lips brushing your temple.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he whispered, over and over, each word a soft litany, a promise.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

He kissed the tears before they could fall, his forehead resting gently against yours.

His voice was low, trembling with restraint. “Just breathe… we’ll go slow. You’re safe.”

And with those words—his warmth, his love wrapping around you like silk—you let yourself relax into him.

Let yourself feel.

Because no matter how overwhelming this moment was.

You weren’t alone.

You had him.

All of him.

You rolled your hips slowly, cautiously at first, adjusting to the stretch of him inside you. The ache was still there—sharp at the edges—but with every slow grind, it dulled, softened, giving way to something deeper.

Something hotter.

You gasped softly as your body relaxed around him, the pain melting into a slow-burning pleasure that made your skin tingle and your breath catch.

Rafayel groaned above you, his jaw clenched, chest rising and falling as he fought to hold himself still beneath your careful rhythm.

His fingers gripped your waist, firm but reverent, like he was anchoring himself with you.

“God,” he hissed through his teeth, voice low and wrecked, “you’re so warm… so tight.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

He dipped his head, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You feel like heaven.”

You whimpered, your thighs trembling around his hips as you moved again, grinding just enough to feel every inch of him drag deliciously along your walls.

He shuddered, his breath stuttering as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing at your skin, kissing and biting gently as your pace gradually built.

Each movement became easier, slicker, the room filled with the obscene, wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

You moaned louder this time, your hands running over the planes of his back, nails dragging lightly as your hips met his again and again.

The friction, the fullness, the stretch—it overwhelmed you in the best way, your body burning, trembling, needing.

Rafayel lifted his head, eyes meeting yours, completely undone.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, thrusting into you with a slow, deep roll of his hips. “So perfect around me.”

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure began to spiral inside you again, tighter this time, urgent and all-consuming.

And as he began to move faster, matching your rhythm, all you could do was hold on—moaning his name like a prayer, unraveling piece by piece beneath him.

“Let me,” he whispered, voice rough with desire.

His hands slid firmly to your hips, holding you in place as to still you, then began to move.

The first thrust was slow, deep, dragging along every sensitive inch inside you.

You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, your head falling back as your body trembled from the sensation.

He set the rhythm carefully at first, hips rolling into you with steady, deliberate strokes. Each one made your breath catch, your core fluttering around him with need.

He moaned into your ear, low and broken, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“God… you feel so good,” he groaned, pace beginning to build.

You moaned as he picked up speed, your voice rising with every thrust—soft gasps giving way to louder, breathless cries as pleasure rippled through your body in waves.

Your walls clamped around him, clenching with every stroke, the friction maddening, perfect.

“R–Rafayel,” you choked out, your body rocking with his, overwhelmed by how full you felt, how completely he claimed every part of you.

He answered you with a kiss—hot, desperate—his mouth crashing into yours to swallow the sounds spilling from your lips.

You kissed him back, open-mouthed and hungry, moaning into him as his thrusts grew deeper, harder, the slap of skin echoing with every movement.

His hands roamed your body—palms sliding up your back, thumbs brushing the swell of your breasts—never stopping, never breaking the rhythm as he lost himself in you.

You felt it building again, that heat coiling low in your belly, unbearable and perfect, and with every breathless grind of his hips, it drew tighter, closer.

He felt it too, in the way you pulsed around him, in the way your cries turned into sobs of pleasure against his mouth.

And still, he didn’t stop. He gave.

All of him.

Your body tightened around him, trembling with the rising pressure that coiled low and hot inside you, each thrust sending sparks down your spine.

Rafayel groaned against your mouth, hips moving harder now, more desperate, his rhythm faltering just slightly with the intensity.

“Fuck—” he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wild with heat, pupils blown, flushed skin glowing under the low light. “You feel… so good around me. So fucking perfect.”

You cried out, voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your vision blur.

Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, your body clinging to him as if you could pull him even deeper, never wanting to let him go.

He grunted through gritted teeth, his control unraveling.

“Don’t hold back, cutie,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “Let me hear you. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And you did.

Your nails dug into his back, your head thrown back with a loud moan as your orgasm crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming.

You pulsed around him, muscles spasming, hips jerking as waves of heat tore through you, leaving you gasping his name like a plea.

He cursed under his breath, his rhythm faltering again as you clenched around him.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me—”

His mouth fell open with a low, guttural groan as he thrust deep, grinding into you once, twice more before he came.

You felt it—the sharp, delicious jerk of his body as he spilled into you, heat flooding your core as he buried himself to the hilt, trembling through his release.

You moaned at the feeling of each rope, filling you up.

“God… Y/N,” he gasped against your neck, lips pressing against your sweat-slicked skin, “I love you. I love you.”

He kept whispering it, even as his body slowly stilled, even as he collapsed gently onto you, careful not to crush you beneath his weight.

The only sounds left were your shared, heavy breaths, your heart pounding against his chest, and the soft hush of his voice murmuring your name like a vow.

The world had gone quiet again.

Not silent—but still.

The kind of stillness that settles after a storm, where everything feels washed clean, softened by the weight of what had just been shared.

Rafayel lay above you, his forehead resting gently against yours, eyes still closed as he caught his breath.

Your bodies remained tangled, skin damp with sweat, his warmth wrapped around you like a blanket. Neither of you moved to speak at first. There was no need.

It was all there, in the quiet.

The trust.

The vulnerability.

The love.

After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing your hair gently from your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

His thumb ghosted over your cheekbone, and he leaned in to press the softest kiss to your temple.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hushed and a little hoarse.

You nodded, too full to speak for a moment.

Then, “Yeah… I’m okay.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. He looked at you like you were something fragile, sacred, something he could never take for granted.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” you whispered. “You were… perfect.”

You saw the relief in his face, the way his shoulders finally relaxed.

And then he tucked you against his chest, his arms sliding around you, holding you close like he never wanted to let go.

Your head rested against the curve of his collarbone, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” you murmured. “Like… I could break apart and still be safe in your hands.”

He tightened his hold around you. “You are safe with me. Always.”

You lay there together, your fingers trailing gently over his chest, his hand drawing lazy circles along your back. The room was filled only with the sound of your breathing, the occasional quiet kiss he’d press to your hair, your forehead, your shoulder.

“Was it okay?” you asked, almost shyly.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. “Okay?” He gave a breathless laugh. “It was everything.”

Your lips met again—this time slow, sweet, lingering.

No hunger now. Just gratitude.

Intimate. Love.

And as he pulled the blanket up around you, as you curled tighter into his chest and let your eyes flutter closed, you realised.

You hadn’t just given yourself to him.

You had found yourself with him.

And he had held every part of you like it mattered.

Like you mattered.

[yanderes-galore]

Hi, can you write a yandere rivalry (romantic) between Alastor and Vox from Hazbin Hotel with a reader that is Vox's assistant?

Yandere! Alastor vs Vox with Vox's Assistant! Darling

Pairing: Romantic (Vox) /Dubious (Alastor) - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Sabotage, Stalking/Surveillance, Abuse of power, Coercion, Implications of intimacy (Vox), Forced relationship/companionship.

These two are already at each other's necks canonically.

Although... It seems Vox reacts the most?

The Vees in general seem to struggle controlling their emotional outbursts.

Vox himself often makes a big deal of things... maybe not as much as Valentino, but it's still easy to anger him.

As usual, Alastor's intentions with you are hard to read.

There's a good chance the rivalry is going to start just because Alastor likes to mess with Vox.

In fact, since you're Vox's assistant, it's not hard to see that as the original motive behind Alastor's behavior.

It's already hard enough for you to tend to your boss and his cohorts.

You are Vox's personal assistant, which means you are hired to be practically glued to his hip.

He likes it that way.

You often follow him to his broadcasts, his meetings, everywhere.

You do occasionally get privacy from him... although, if there's one thing you know about your boss...

It's the fact he's incredibly needy.

He does flirt with you on occasion, sometimes making crude comments on your appearance.

He only allows himself to do it though.

You've noticed as you're working that he'll even snap at Valentino for making the suggestion that you come to his 'studio' for a shoot.

You've seen your boss angry before...

Yet Alastor brings about an entirely new side to your boss.

You've heard of Alastor.

Who hasn't? Years ago he was infamous in Hell... then disappeared.

You knew to never mention the radio demon's name in front of your boss.

It sends him into a fit.

Despite this, you never expected to actually meet the radio demon.

However... It appears fate made it so you two cross paths...

It's hard to hide who you work for if he insists on dressing you completely in his colors.

You could be doing something as simple as errands for your boss, cherishing that you're able to be away from his side.

Only to be met with a new suffocating presence, coming up to you with a Cheshire grin.

It's like he knows you're involved with Vox....

With that knowledge, of course he's going to get close to you.

What better way to piss off Vox, right?

Your encounter with the radio demon is oddly... friendly.

He doesn't seem like he dislikes you, in fact, he stay his usual charming self.

Your first meeting with Alastor is... amiable, no doubt because he's trying to earn your trust to mess with Vox.

It actually isn't long before Vox notices you interacting with Alastor behind his back.

Vox has always had access to technology in this city.

Cameras, TVs, trackers, you name it.

It isn't hard for him to realize there's a disturbance.

Not only is his rival back... but he's also messing with his favorite assistant.

I imagine Vox would restrict your privacy after that.

Before he knew Alastor was back, Vox would begrudgingly allow you to do your own thing as long as you returned to him.

But now that he knows you and Alastor were chatting...

You're practically kept on lock down by his side, the Overlord completely unwilling to let you out of his sight.

Vox knows Alastor is doing it just to mess with him.

It's working since Vox has such strong feelings about you.

One may call Vox's feelings romantic.

Although, in Hell, that tends to also involve intimacy.

Anything to please the boss, right?

Vox views you as a partner of sorts... yet has a lot of power over you.

So... it's not the most balanced relationship.

Alastor doesn't seem interested in a relationship quite like what Vox gives you.

Vox is an enjoyer of "physical" affection.

Alastor seems more into charming you with pretty words.

He's disgusted by Vox's type of intimacy and probably would rather keep you tied to him... emotionally.

Also known as being a new plaything for the radio demon.

I feel this rivalry... wouldn't end or have a hard time ending.

The two can't kill one another unless angelic weapons are involved.

Even if you were in a deal with one of them... the other would be insistent on revoking it.

They can hide you from one another... but you'll be found eventually, especially if you can escape.

There's no winning in this, honestly.

Vox would want to keep you locked away and under surveillance so Alastor can't speak with you again.

Yet Alastor has his ways of getting what he wants.

Your job barely even has you working anymore.

You only ever see Vox come to visit, usually so you can pamper him with affection, no matter how fake.

If Alastor took you somehow, maybe after you attempt to flee Vox, you'd be kept in the hotel.

Unless you somehow leave, Vox will struggle to get you.

Which has Alastor hoping it's enough time to coerce you into giving over your soul.

Both of them no doubt want to lock you into a contract, that's nothing new with Overlords.

Although... a contract won't stop their fighting.

Vox is already losing his temper, breaking things in V Tower at the thought of you with Alastor.

His assistant with his greatest rival... He's so angry he may just strangle someone.

Alastor's enjoying the chaos.

He loves Vox looking so upset.

Even better, he gets to toy with you.

You're so interesting to speak with.

Honestly, it's about time you have a new boss, huh?

All you need to do is surrender yourself to Alastor...

He could probably treat you infinitely better than Vox can.

Although... That may just be a lie.

Demons are notorious liars.

Knowing how these two feel about one another... this rivalry would go on for a long while.

Yet... I don't know if it would get physical.

Vox seems like he'd send someone else to fight... and Alastor knows when to quit.

But a fight between them could certainly be between them for a long time...

It doesn't matter though, does it?

There's a good chance neither of them will die anytime soon...

Leaving you to try and find your own way to survive their constant... competition.

[butterflydm]

WoT 3x04 Deep Dive (book spoilers addition)

We made it! We achieved Rhuidean. This show keeps taking things that I feel have to be unfilmable and doing the impossible with them. Spoilers through 3x04 of the show and A Memory of Light for the books.

This is actually relatively short, because I was able to cover most thoughts in the show spoilers only post!

The idea that the best "weapon" is one that is not solely a weapon but can be used for other things was also a big focus of Perrin's storyline in the books (...even though axes can absolutely be used as tools, so I think the show did a good move by attaching the idea of 'axe as weapon' to his violence via killing Laila instead of making it just an inherent property of axes), but we also see it echoed in Rand & Mat, and in the Aiel as a whole. A sword is only ever a sword, but a bow or a spear can put food on the table. Perrin used an axe for violence, but he's used a hammer for creation.

So. Rand touching his ear in this talk with Lan.

The reason that I mention this is because Josha has read the books and knows them well so... check out his hands after he says, "There are so many things I can't be" in this opening conversation with Lan. In the books, Rand thumbing his ear is a tell that "Lews Therin" is also present in that moment. In the books, it was usually used when "Lews Therin" was finding a woman attractive but Rand didn't want to attach that feeling to himself, but the show might use it more generally. It might be that Rand has done this before on the show, but this is the first time it's really stood out to me. Is Rand attaching his nostalgia for home to LTT so that he doesn't have to feel it himself?

They are definitely making Rand a lot more open to the Aiel in the show, which fits with how he is trying less to be "hard" than he was at this point in the books. That Rand believed that he needed to use the Aiel as a tool and tried to keep his emotional distance because of it. This Rand does still see the Aiel as a potential tool, but he also sees the potential of a connection there too.

In the books, the romantic relationship between Rand and Aviendha was treated (at first) as a "binding cord" between Rand and the Aiel (by the Wise Ones, for sure) and that kind of dropped away as the books went on and we spent so long with Rand and Aviendha separated, and it ended up being Aviendha's first-sister relationship with Elayne that became more of a binding cord. I wonder if the show is going to keep that connection between Rand and Aviendha more present in the show. Much like we see Rand and Moiraine share a moment after they've both been through a trial of Rhuidean, Rand and Aviendha shared a moment as well, and the show may build on that (hopefully! It looks like they're sitting near each other in one of the shots in the promo for 3x05).

Something I noticed in the books, and something that I wonder if the show will follow, is that we never meet any clan chiefs or Wise Ones who are Darkfriends (please correct me if I'm wrong). Given that the columns seem to be almost alive, in how they are described, and how clearly the moments that it shows people must have been plucked out by a purpose, I wonder if the columns also weed out Darkfriends. They were created by Aes Sedai in the books, and by one specific Aes Sedai (Latra) in the show. We meet selfish or short-sighted or even cruel Wise Ones and clan chiefs, but I don't think any of them are ever shown to be Darkfriends.

One thing that is likely certain is that no one is allowed to be a clan chief if they don't have Aiel blood (and it probably has to be the father's blood, due to how the columns appear to work). Wise Ones... might be more flexible. Difficult to say. I imagine that adopting from outside the Aiel is pretty uncommon -- I suspect that Melindhra and Tigraine will be shown to be exceptions rather than a general rule -- so it likely doesn't come up much.

They don't mention here that gai'shain only serve for a year and a day, but I am currently assuming that it's still true because... I mean, you'd end up with a pretty large portion of your people who are gai'shain.

Lan's Aiel nickname honestly makes so much more sense to me in the context of Melindhra being a Malkieri child adopted by a Wise Ones and them having more awareness of Lan and what happened to Malkier. In the books, we never really get a reason why they admire him so much.

The Rand & Aviendha scenes were such a delight in this episode! Hopefully we'll get more of them interacting in 3x05, though I'm hoping that it's the Randgwene break-up episode, so we might not have time for much Avirand, because all sorts of other plotlines will be going on with the Two Rivers and with Tanchico (and I think I saw a hint of the White Tower in the trailer too, so four different main plotlines and locations).

If Rand & Egwene do break up in 3x05, then we might get another good moment like this one between Rand & Aviendha in 3x06, since I'm kinda expecting us to get the attack on Cold Rocks Hold in that episode ("the shadow in the night" sounds like a good name for that event) and Aviendha & Rand do get a moment there in the books. I think the show would keep it around the same level as they got in this episode, since the Randgwene breakup (fingers crossed) would still be pretty fresh, but the way this episode separated Rand & Egwene made me feel hopeful for a sooner rather than later break up (well, it's still kinda later, since we're already in the second half of the season, but you know what I mean).

The show leaning hard on Rand & Aviendha both having a duty to the Aiel people. And as we saw with Rand & Moiraine, going to Rhuidean can help bridge gaps, which we already saw a hint of in the final Rand & Aviendha scene.

And the cords of duty are something that Rand, Aviendha, and Elayne can all share -- we had that scene with Elayne and Rand in 3x01, and Elayne also told Aviendha that she did believe that Rand would accept his duty to her people, and she encouraged Rand along that path as well. So, if we get s4, it really does feel like we could see Avirandlayne coming together naturally as Elayne helps Rand adjust to wetlander political rule, as Aviendha continues to help with Aiel cultural knowledge.

I mentioned a caveat to the whole "the Taardad seem the most invested in the Car'a'carn in the show" thing in my other post and it's about the Maidens, of course. The Maidens, as a society, also have a huge reason to be extremely invested in having the Car'a'carn be found. In having a son of a Maiden finally return to them. I do hope that they'll go into that in either 3x05 or 3x06 (I will cry if we get the Maidens telling Rand that they want to carry his honor).

I wonder if we're going to have a lot fewer Wise Ones than we had in the books (where the Shaido alone had something like two hundred who could channel?). I think I read that the number of Aiel clans is eight now (which matches how many Aes Sedai it takes to shield & gentle even the strongest male channeler)? So that's only eight men at a time who have gone through the columns. They may have also cut down on the number of Wise Ones per clan so that the numbers aren't quite so disproportionate to each other. That's a lot fewer people to carry the legacy of the Aiel's past than we have in the books. And it'll be a much stronger break when Rand reveals that past to everyone.

Do we know if Aram is in the next episode? I am really wondering when we're going to get our present-day follow-up to Lewin breaking the Way of the Leaf -- will it be in the next episode, during Perrin's 'daring rescue' (as said in the summary for 3x05) or will it be in 3x07 (Goldeneyes, where we are getting the Battle of the Two Rivers)?

Because we have some kidnapped girls (Mat's sisters) and we have Perrin, who wants to save them without hurting anyone. For Lewin, it wasn't possible to save them without death. There is no salvation without destruction. How will it go for Perrin? Will there be a cost?

And Ila, who is Aram's grandmother... how closely will her reaction to Aram be to the way that Adan and Lewin's mother react to him here?

How much is the show going to break our hearts over Aram?

I do think introducing more genetic diversity to the Aiel that we see really helps combat the weird "generational servant" vibe that Jordan brought to the da'shain Aiel in the books (which... was it intentional? Jordan never really does enough with it for me to be certain). In the show, it's not that redheads specifically were all servants, it's that of the dedicated Aiel who left at Latra's request, at least one of the main bloodlines that survived to make it to the Waste were redheads, because they went though a couple of harsh population bottlenecks to get there.

The show making it so that the male Aes Sedai of the Age of Legends dressed primarily in black just feels so !!! when it comes to Rand designing the Asha'man uniform later on. Whether he realizes it or not, he's dressing them like Aes Sedai. (I can't remember if this is also a book thing or not)

Aaah, this long moment when Aviendha stares into Rand's eyes before she looks away and gets up to leave. The tension between them. It's so perfect.

That's really all I have for additional book spoiler thoughts. Most of it I could cover without needing them.

[seafoamreadings]

week of march 23rd, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: venus exits your sign back into pisces yet the spotlight remains in many ways on you. that's due to a solar new moon eclipse in your sign - your already stereotypically volatile/short fuse energy is even more chaotic. keep a cool head if you can. not to mention the big one (yes bigger than an ECLIPSE!) which is neptune finally moving into your sign after many years in pisces. that's at the very end of the week, but can make the results of the eclipse seem a bit shrouded in confusion.

taurus: it's hard to think of a more emotional period than what is coming up this week. there are the watery feelings and the passionate expressions of fire plus major (MAJOR!!) sign changes and an eclipse. you're doing shadow work the entire time too, whether you do it on purpose or not. might as well direct it intentionally.

gemini: in a lot of ways, neptune in aries might feel refreshing to you. but you probably won't notice it right away due to the very intense eclipse shortly before that ingress. for now, chaos in your social networks may feel almost completely untenable. it's temporary but try to learn from any mishaps.

cancerians: even more than usual, and even more than usual *for an eclipse*, put extra extra super effort into self care practices. a bubble bath will not do; this needs to go very deep, treat yourself like a little baby if you need to. needs not met will find ways to get met even if that means dismantling your longest-held structures. and dismantling is the nice way to put it.

leo: some really deep and interesting ideas/insights/epiphanies are headed your way but don't get too attached or invested or deep into them just yet. this is a time of extreme volatility. the good ideas will stick around even as things chill out. bonus info, i don't recommend travel at this time for you, especially over long distances. actually i would strongly advise against it. if you can postpone, do, and if you cannot, be cautious, very cautious, and if you were going to plan things out early now, this is not the time.

virgo: your committed partnerships are undeniably changing, romantic or otherwise. it might feel extremely tumultuous for a while. even if the changes are quite positive, don't rush to consolidate all your resources with those of your partner. keep all the independence you can, at least for now.

libra: you are about to enter a new era of relationships. it's a long one, too. but it kicks off first of all with an eclipse in your 7th house, which might feel more like an ending than a fresh start. sometimes it's both.

scorpio: if you have not made your daily routines and structures into habits of ritual that really have meaning for you personally, if you have been devoting your life to a cause or force that isn't in alignment with you, you are about to find out. or maybe you already know and are just bracing yourself for the consequences? but if you've made your life sacred to you, even if changes occur, they are clearly just steps along your path. forks in the road where you actually know exactly where to go.

sagittarius: probably things are about to get fun in your personal life, and i don't even mean that as a euphemism. however, this week coming up may have you skeptical of that as the era takes a new form. and yes it's true, just because you're having a good time doesn't mean the world around you is necessarily flourishing.

capricorn: shakeups are coming around your family of origin, and/or your physical abode, and/or your ancestors. family skeletons may emerge from closets or you may have issues with roommates, for example. in fact if you were looking for new roommates, best to find them before the end of the week or even call it off altogether.

aquarius: any long term money issues should start to ease up but your community/neighborhood/maybe sibling relationships become cloudy and confusing, starting with a sudden explosion by the aries eclipse and then a much longer term issue with the ingress of neptune into aries at the very end of the week.

pisces: your last second house solar eclipse for a *long* time occurs this week, which is likely to be hard on your resources. shortly thereafter is the even bigger news. neptune, your own ruling planet, has been at home for so long in your sign it may have been easy to forget. this week it follows the eclipse into clouding up your 2nd house. that has its pros and cons of course, but it is certainly a completely different vibe. you haven't seen the last of neptune and yet, an era is clearly ending.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

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[twig-tea]

Gelboys finale thoughts

Gelboys gave me so many emotions. It was such a raw, painful, and empathetic depiction of youth--all of these kids are constantly hurting each other mostly through being self-absorbed and unaware they're doing it rather than intentional cruelty, though there are a few moments of that too. I appreciated how the show allowed all of these characters to make mistakes and be kind of terrible to each other, and for them to have their own moments of growth. I loved so many things this show did, including exploring the confusion around friendship vs attraction, what it means to lead people on with no intention of following through, sexual exploration with emotional attachment but not necessarily an emotional commitment, letting characters have more than one love interest over time, letting guys reach for each other's dicks....and in addition to those bigger things, there are a million tiny details I loved in every scene. While I wrote to ask for help clarifying one particular plot point because it was confusing last week, overall I have loved that this show required the viewer to pay attention to details and to put things together for themselves; trust in the audience is rare these days and it is always refreshing.

That being said, there are two stumbles that I'm sitting with at the end of the show that are preventing me from cheering without reservation.

One was the choice to put the evidence of Chian's main character growth into a side story. It was critical to ep7 that we understood Chian had actually reflected on his treatment of Fou4Mod, and we only know for sure that he had because of the Charging Gel ep6 side story (I've linked to a comment on that video that includes a translation because the full context is important). It is only cute that Chian put that hat on Fou4Mod's nail because he understood that at the time it was a dick move.

The second thing was rushing Baa's emotional turn in ep7. I think we got to see Baabin start to fall for Bua, and we did see his discomfort around having those feelings while still defining himself as the man in love with Fou4Mod, but I didn't buy Baa falling out of love with Fou4Mod. He held onto those feelings for 2 years while Fou4Mod and Chian were 'talking, then for however many months while Fou4Mod and Faifa had their thing and Fou4Mod and Baa weren't even friendly....I just don't know when Baa started to realize his feelings for Fou4Mod were not actually romantic anymore, and considering how intensely he was pushing that, I needed to know when he was faking it vs when it was real for him, and I just didn't. So when he revealed that he had been pretending not to have feelings for Bua because he didn't want to piss off Fou4Mod, it felt like it came out of nowhere. And after he had been so, so cruel to Bua in the same day that he decided to confess, I needed a better confession and apology to believe in their relationship.

The part that I appreciated most about this finale was Fou4Mod and Chian learning to communicate with empathy for each other. Fou4Mod admitted that he got paranoid about not hearing from Chian because of their history, and owned that that was an overreaction, and later Chian acknowledged that they weren't going to be able to be perfect but they could be more honest with each other and be considerate of each other's feelings around their behaviour (that's what I'm reading into the "I won't always be able to text back but I'll tell you if that's the case" scene). I wish this had been left slightly more open, but I am open to these two learning to be in a relationship together.

On the Baabin and Bua side, I really loved Bua's realization that he had been terrible to Chian, after experiencing it on the other side. I don't know that we got the same level of realization from Baabin that we did from the other three. He has learned to ask for things for himself even when he's afraid it will upset his friend, but I was hoping we'd get more of a realization about how he'd become the type of person he was yelling at a few episodes ago (Chian yelling at Baa for the same thing that Baa once yelled at Bua for was a delicious parallel). I think there's a step missing for me in Baa's storyline overall in which he realizes he does not like who he's become in his quest for Fou4Mod and as a result is able to let go of that crush. Similarly, while Bua's admission that he cares more about Baa's one like than a million likes from strangers was sweet, I think I needed to sit with them as not a pseudo-influencer couple in order to believe in their romance. As it stands, I don't really believe Bua will be able to put his relationship with Baa over his need for social media validation, and i don't really believe that Baa understands how hurtful he was to Bua or has learned enough about being aware of his own behaviour to prevent it from happening again. Which is all ok, I just wish the show were more aware that that's where it left us with this couple.

Overall, this show captured the raw emotional rollercoaster that is being a teenager so well; even though I could not relate to a lot of the specifics of how these teens got up to shenanigans, I could relate to the core emotions almost always. I felt the cringe and the butterflies and the shame viscerally week to week, and I think that's what I'm going to remember this show for the most.

[chrkrose]

Just wanted to say that I completely agreed with your Sunrise take. It's almost as though you plucked it out of my brain and put it in words.

Its a shame that the Maysilee/Haymitch ship has been struck down so explicitly. I can't see the ship being popular now without fans claiming that we've 'missed the whole point'.

I also agreed with your take about Lenore: to me, she's far too similar to Lucy Gray for me to care about her in her own right and that's a shame.

I'm interested to see if you have any other thoughts since I enjoyed your first post a lot.

More thoughts on SOTR, Maysilee and Maysilee/ Haymitch.

I mean… I have issues with several aspects of Sunrise on the Reaping (SOTR), honestly. Like, the way the book handles its themes is just so on the nose. It lacks the subtlety Suzanne used to have. One of the biggest appeals of the original trilogy was that Katniss wasn’t a chosen one—she wasn’t special, she wasn’t trying to be a rebel, she was just surviving. And now suddenly we’re rewriting that entire foundation to make her destiny feel preordained? Add in all the fan service, which felt so Marvel-level with its cameos and callbacks, and yeah… I struggled with a lot of it.

The Maysilee stuff—and the Maysilee/Haymitch potential—is just one example in a list of things that didn’t work for me, but it’s a great one to highlight what went wrong.

First off, my gripe with Maysilee and Haymitch isn’t even just that they weren’t romantic. Sure, I do think a romantic storyline would’ve added more depth and been more compelling, but what really bugs me is the way people jump to that “not every relationship needs to be romantic!!” discourse like it’s some mic drop moment. And like—yeah, of course not every bond has to be romantic. The series already gives us beautiful platonic relationships, so what are you truly saying here? I always feel like that argument has a bit of a misogynistic edge, like romance automatically weakens a story or a character. That it’s less serious or important just because it’s “girly” or emotional. It’s the reverse of the people who think romance is the only thing that matters—it’s still minimizing, just from another angle.

Personally, I think a romantic connection between Maysilee and Haymitch could have added a lot to the story. Not because romance is inherently better, but because it would’ve allowed us to actually see the relationship develop. Imagine Haymitch having to confront and dismantle his class prejudices toward her. Imagine the layers that would add to his trauma, to his choices, to the person he becomes. That arc would’ve felt way more grounded than suddenly introducing Lenore Dove—a character who feels like a Lucy Gray copy-paste—and expecting us to accept her as the Great Love of Haymitch’s life.

And look, I’m a sucker for a good love story. I would have eaten it up so fast if this was a good one. But it simply wasn’t. There was no tension, no buildup, no spark. Just symbolism on top of symbolism, and a girl who was written to be “quirky” and “different” and important, but never felt real. She was too mythical, too much, too “main girl who haunts the narrative” without earning that weight. At least Lucy Gray had quirks and nuance. Lenore just felt like Suzanne ticking boxes: rebel, covey, singer, poet attached to her name, dead too soon. And I’m sorry, but having Haymitch still pining for his 16-year-old girlfriend decades later, when we barely get to see him reflect on his family or his fellow tributes? At least give space to his mother and brother, to the tributes he bonded with, to all the people he lost along the way.

And that’s what really bothers me. Suzanne always trusted her readers to come to their own conclusions. She showed us dynamics—Katniss and Peeta, Finnick and Katniss, Johanna and Peeta, even Katniss and Gale—and let us interpret. She never had to spell out who these people were to each other. But it seems like she didn’t trust that when it comes to Maysilee and Haymitch, and to Lenore and Haymitch as well. Suddenly we were told what to feel, how to perceive every relationship. And that just doesn’t land for me. It actually undermines the emotional weight because it feels like she didn’t trust the story to stand on its own.

And if the whole idea was to subvert expectations and say “Surprise! Everything you thought you knew about Haymitch’s Games is actually propaganda,” then… I don’t know. That twist didn’t work for me either. It didn’t enhance the themes, it just made me feel, again, like I wasn’t capable enough to reach conclusions on my own. For a book who speaks of propaganda, she sure tried to determine how we would interact with it without room for anything else.

Now, about Maysilee herself—she would’ve worked so much better as the ghost in Haymitch’s narrative. Platonic or romantic, an ambiguous bond between her and Haymitch had more potential than what we got. The Capitol downplaying her role would’ve tied beautifully with Haymitch’s later manipulation of the Katniss/Peeta narrative. She mirrors both of them in ways Lenore doesn’t: she’s a merchant girl like Peeta, she’s got Katniss’ fire, and her pin—her pin—becomes the ultimate symbol of rebellion. She painted the final poster. Not to mention the quiet tragedy of him having to see her twin sister around town for the rest of his life. That’s the kind of subtle, haunting storytelling that would’ve worked.

But instead, they stripped all that from her to give it to Lenore, and in the process, even Katniss’ story gets hurt. Because now, Katniss isn’t just a girl who stumbled into something bigger than herself—now she’s been chosen since the beginning. Which removes one of the most powerful things about her arc: the idea that regular people, caught in the right place at the right time, can change the world.

Lucy Gray worked as a ghost in Snow’s story. Maysilee should’ve been that for Haymitch. But unfortunately, all that depth, all that symbolism, was handed to a character who didn’t earn it and who honestly just didn’t deliver the emotional payoff Suzanne thought she would.

[itsnesss]

Could you do something with sensei Wolf x reader where she’s like this this super chill and calm person but on the mat she’s a completely different person like no one expects her to hit that hard but she’s like a secret weapon and no one calls her by her real name bc it’s too hard but she’s has a super badass nickname and wolf finds out her real name at like the semi finals announcement or something and loves it and can actually say it

I’m sorry this is so long ❤️

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 | sensei wolf × fem!reader

summary | you’re known as specter, a deadly fighter in the sekai taikai, but no one knows your real name. when wolf effortlessly pronounces it, you’re caught off guard

warnings | romantic tension, emotional ambiguity, intense physical competition

word count | 1.3 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The tatami is your second home. But outside of it, no one would believe it.

You are calm, composed, and rarely raise your voice. People assume you’re harmless, a serene presence among the aggression of rival dojos. Your carefree attitude is part of what makes you lethal: no one sees the strike coming until they’re already on the ground.

That’s why, when you entered the Sekai Taikai scene, your dojo decided you needed a war name. Something that commanded respect without revealing too much. No one used your real name. It was long, complicated, and most people didn’t bother to learn it. So, you stuck with the nickname they gave you: Specter. A ghost on the mat. Silent, relentless, impossible to predict.

Sensei Wolf had been watching you from the beginning.

He wasn’t easily impressed, but there was something about you that kept him on edge. Maybe it was the way you moved, the lightness of your steps before delivering a devastating strike. Maybe it was your serene demeanor, as if the whole world was losing its mind except for you.

Or maybe it was the mystery of your real name.

The preliminaries passed smoothly. One opponent after another fell, never understanding what had happened. On the tatami, you were someone else. Cold. Precise. The picture of calm while everyone else fought desperately.

Sensei Wolf watched from the edge of the mat, arms crossed and a calculating look in his eyes. He didn’t bother to hide his interest.

"Specter, right?"

You nodded, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the wrap on your wrist.

"Good work out there. You’re stronger than you look."

You held his gaze with a small smile. "Would it disappoint you if I said I do it on purpose?"

He let out a low chuckle. "Not at all. Reminds me of someone."

You didn’t ask who. You didn’t need to.

The semifinals arrived quickly. The air was tense, every fighter focused on their next match.

The arena was packed when the announcer took the microphone.

"Up next, we present the Sekai Taikai semifinalists!"

One by one, the fighters’ names echoed through the speakers. Then, the announcer took a breath and spoke yours.

Your real name.

You felt it before you heard it. The slight pause. The murmur among the spectators. And then, the unmistakable sound of your name sliding effortlessly from the lips of someone who pronounced it perfectly.

You turned your head and found Sensei Wolf watching you from across the arena.

He had said it. Effortlessly. As if he had always known it.

The surprise on your face was enough to make him smile.

"Nice name," he said as you walked past him.

You paused for a second, unable to stop the smile from forming on your lips.

"Thanks. Not everyone can pronounce it correctly."

"I’m not like everyone else."

No, he wasn’t.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt like someone truly saw you. Not just as Specter, the secret weapon on the tatami, but as you.

Your true self.

The name echoed in your head even as you prepared for the semifinal.

He had said it without hesitation. Without faltering. As if he had always known.

For a moment, it almost distracted you. But you shook your head. You couldn’t afford to lose focus now.

The fight started with the usual routine: an overconfident opponent, certain they had the advantage. Then, the shock on their face when you moved faster than expected. When every strike landed with surgical precision. When what was supposed to be a match turned into a display of what you could do.

It was quick. Efficient.

And when the final whistle blew, your opponent was on the ground, unable to get up.

The crowd took a second to react. A heartbeat of silence before the explosion of noise.

But you didn’t look at the audience.

Your gaze went straight to Wolf.

He hadn’t moved. He didn’t even look surprised. He just watched you with an intensity that made every fiber of your being come alive.

When you stepped off the tatami, he was already there.

"It’s funny," he commented, crossing his arms. "All these people are only seeing you now. Like you came out of nowhere."

"Technically, that’s the point of a specter," you replied with a light smile.

"Maybe," he admitted. "But I saw you from the beginning."

Something in his voice made you look at him closely.

There was something there. Something that wasn’t in the words but in the way he said them.

You studied him for a second before tilting your head.

"Is that why you bothered to learn my name?"

"Something like that," he replied, a small smirk on his lips.

Something in his gaze told you there was more. That this wasn’t just about a name.

The final match was only a few hours away.

The place was silent when you entered, wrapped in the tension before a decisive fight. Unlike the others, you were calm. Relaxed. It was something that had always set you apart: while others battled nerves, you ignored them.

Wolf’s voice kept replaying in your head.

"I saw you from the beginning."

His words shouldn’t have affected you this much. It wasn’t the first time someone recognized your talent. But this time, it felt… different. More personal.

You shook your head and started wrapping your hands. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.

You had just finished when a shadow appeared beside you. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

"You look calm," Sensei Wolf remarked, his voice carrying that same low, steady tone.

"I am."

A pause.

"But not as much as usual."

You sighed, resting your elbows on your knees. "What makes you say that?"

"You haven’t said a single word in five minutes," he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. "That’s a record."

You smiled, unable to help it. "Maybe I’m conserving energy."

Sensei Wolf nodded slowly, but he didn’t look convinced.

"Is it the final?" he asked.

You shook your head. "No. I fight the same no matter the event."

"Then what is it?"

You opened your mouth to respond, then hesitated.

Were you really going to tell him that the problem was him? That the way he had said your name had lodged itself in your mind? That the way he looked at you made something inside you stir in a way you couldn’t ignore?

He seemed to notice your hesitation.

And then, he did something you didn’t expect.

He leaned in just a little closer.

"You know," he murmured, "I like the way your name sounds."

Your breath caught for a second.

He knew.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Oh, yeah?" you managed to respond, keeping your composure.

Wolf nodded. "It’s strong. Unique. Like you."

Your heart beat faster.

It was dangerous to play this game with him. Sensei Wolf wasn’t easy to read, but when he decided to go after something, he didn’t stop.

And right now, he was going after you.

The door swung open abruptly, interrupting the moment. A team member entered, announcing that the finalists had to report to the arena.

You took a deep breath, forcing your mind to refocus.

Wolf straightened, but his gaze never left yours.

"Go win this, Specter," he said with a small smile.

But then, his voice dropped just slightly as he added:

"Or should I say… Saoirse (seer-sha)?"

The shiver down your spine had nothing to do with fear.

Without another word, you stepped out and headed to the final match.

But deep down, you knew that when everything was over, this between you two was only just beginning.

[bradleysass]

Based on this - @siriusblackdevotee - Jily - James is a hopeless romantic

Chapter Five: The Wedding (or, How I Cried More Than Anyone and Sirius Black Nearly Set the Venue on Fire)

You’d think, after years of loving Lily Evans, after dating her, proposing to her (in the most disastrous yet successful way possible), and spending every single day utterly besotted with her, that our wedding day would have felt like the natural next step.

It was not.

It was a cosmic event. A miracle. A moment so staggeringly important that I, James Potter, nearly passed out before making it to the altar.

But let’s rewind a bit.

The Morning of the Wedding

I woke up at an ungodly hour (5 a.m.—5 a.m., as if I was some kind of lunatic) because I was about to become Lily Evans’ husband.

Sirius, my best man, was absolutely useless. He stumbled out of bed at a far more reasonable hour and found me pacing the room, fully dressed, looking like I was going into battle instead of getting married.

“Mate,” he said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Are you—why are you dressed already? The wedding isn’t for another five hours.”

I turned to him, wild-eyed. “I’m getting married today.”

“Yes,” he said, patiently. “That is typically what happens when one proposes marriage.”

“I’m getting married to Lily Evans.”

Sirius patted me on the shoulder. “Yes, and we’re all very proud of you for somehow convincing her to go through with it.”

The Ceremony

Look, I’ll be honest with you. The ceremony is a blur.

Not because I wasn’t paying attention—quite the opposite, actually. The second Lily Evans walked down that aisle, my brain ceased all higher function.

She was breathtaking. She always was, but that day? Unbelievable. It was unfair, really, how stunning she looked. She could have asked me to do literally anything in that moment, and I would have agreed without hesitation.

“James,” she whispered when she reached me.

I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I was so in love with her, so completely overwhelmed, that I just stared.

Then she smiled—my smile, the one she reserved just for me—and I, James Potter, started crying.

(Not just a tear. Not just one respectable, manly tear. Full-on crying. I had to physically wipe my eyes while Remus looked on, clearly torn between being emotional and making fun of me later.)

To my relief, Lily also teared up. Which meant that neither of us had room to judge the other for being a sentimental mess.

Somewhere in there, we said our vows, exchanged rings, and officially became James and Lily Potter.

(But again, blur. All I remember is looking at her and thinking: I get to love you forever.)

The Reception (Also Known As: The Incident)

Everything was going great. I had a wife. People were drinking, dancing, Sirius was giving an absurdly long speech about how he ‘always knew’ I’d end up with Lily, even though he had spent years betting against me.

And then it happened.

One moment, there was champagne. The next, there was fire.

“SIRIUS ORION BLACK,” Lily shouted across the venue, “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO?”

“Technically,” Sirius called back, “it was an accident.”

To this day, no one knows how the table centerpiece caught fire. Some say it was a knocked-over candle. Others say it was Sirius trying to ‘add flair’ to his toast. Regardless, it took three wizards and a bucket of water to put it out.

Lily glared daggers at him.

Sirius, unbothered, raised his glass and said, “To the Potters!”

The guests cheered. Lily sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered, “This is my life now, isn’t it?”

(For the record: Yes, love. Yes, it is.)

Final Thoughts on the Wedding

Was it chaotic? Yes.

Did I cry like an absolute fool? Also yes.

Was it the best day of my life? Without question.

Because at the end of it, I had a wife.

And not just any wife.

Lily Evans Potter.

[tinrange]

The Faifah storyline in particular was an extreme letdown to me because there was so much there that I felt could be said. But the show refused to address queerness in plain terms it got lost in the shuffle.

Fou4mod self sabotages and was counting on being left. But the actions he took towards Faifah were not just about him, and if there had been more breathing room in the back end I feel like the audience wouldve been able to process it for the violation of her that it was.

For background, there is a literal epidemic of boys in school taking advantage of the girls around them by running their pictures into AI websites that generate nudes and sexual pictures and videos. The advancement of AI has allowed for the exploitation of young girls to run rampant. Most young people have seen constant uncensored and oftentimes violent porn before theyve had their first sexual or even romantic encounter, its led to a generation thats simultaneously scandalized by anything mildly explicit and desensitized to sexual depictions of anything, and anyone. I think its important to mention that, the conservative backslide in society is evident but the reason many of these kids are so easily recruited through the Porn Is Bad We Hate Sex pipelines is because they feel violated by an internet thats increasingly not for them.

Just as important is gelboys commitment to making sure the audience also sees the internet as a real communicative space. It is not a place of escape or anonymity, instead it functions as a way to continuously posture and to constantly surveil the people around you. The aesthetics of gelboys are cheery, but theyre clear that theres no way to turn it Off and not respond without impacting the relationships you have with others.

With all that said. Faifah is a young trans girl, in school surrounded by all boys. Faifah being trans, and it not being discussed, is not a problem in and of itself. But Fou4mod violating Faifah in the public eye by creating an AI video of them kissing and then posting it while the show acts as if this does not highlight her vulnerability even within the LGBTQ+ community, is. Trans girls and women are routinely sexualized against their will. To have a young, queer, boy do that to his girlfriend? And then move past it, and even parallel Fou4s apology to Faifah with Chians apology to Fou4mod? Its borderline unacceptable and is probably why Fou4 feels much more inaccessible to me in the finale than he does basically any time prior.

The show tries to show that he's grown and wishes to appreciate his friends by reversing when Baabin handed him a drink and he wasnt there to take it, but it simply doesnt work when this huge breach goes unaddressed and all he has to do is sulk to make up for it.

To me, Chian pays at least some of his dues because his striving to be better is shown. You literally watch him suffer through the find out phase after having fucked around. But it's very odd that this show completely sidesteps a problem of its own creation and in doing so sidelines the feelings of another young queer person.

Similar to Baabins behavior in the last episode and his literal xenophobia to Bua as a way to protect his feelings. These characters did genuinely troubled things, and wanting to root for them afterwards is the sign of a great COA. But by those coming-of-age standards there should have been actual periods of growth thereafter wherein Fou4mod, and Baabin actually had the growth onscreen, instead of the audience filling in emotional gaps.

I dont think the show is ruined by the ending, but from what was presented in Chians arc it's rush at the end definitely affects the characters and both relationship resolutions wound up feeling quite unfinished to me, as if they had to cram all those ideas into an hour.

You mentioned you felt the ending of gelboys was a result of romance tropes, im not necessarily inclined to disagree with that despite my post, but can you expand slightly?Romance sells and television is a business, so I understand the frustration in that. Do you think anything in the story couldve been shifted to have you accept the ending for Fou4? Ive been sitting on thoughts about coming of age story conventions in relation to gelboys, do you think theyre used well?

Oh there are so many things contained within that one little comment for me, but I will try to break them down. First, some context on the broader industry, and note that this commentary applies much more broadly than just to Gelboys:

Thai BL (and romance convention) demands a happy romance ending, even when it doesn’t fit the story being told. With shows like Gelboys that don’t really follow BL structure and tropes but are still marketed as BLs, there is a tension there and a question about whether they’ll stick to their themes or fold to the romance ending.

Gelboys is marketing its actors as idols which means their careers will benefit more from a ship ending that will make fans happy and possibly allow them to promote and work in pairs. The way the Thai BL industry is structured around pairs often results in narrative interference to protect the pair even at the expense of the story.

Now, a few things more specific to Gelboys:

I think this show has been generally excellent on coming of age conventions and in representing the ways the current iteration of social media has shaped the ancient courting rituals. I do think the story was rendered a bit less impactful by placing the show in the no homophobia BL bubble (and in fact just never addressing sexuality at all).

Boss Kuno has a long pattern of telling queer stories that don’t fit the BL mold but then sticking BL romance endings on them anyway. He even did it in Paradise of Thorns, which I could barely believe given the themes and tone of that film. So this was not unexpected but still a bit of a womp womp for me.

I think the story lost Fourmod’s trajectory in the shuffle a bit in the last few episodes (basically from the Faifa arc on). It’s not that I think it’s out of character for him to end up drifting back to Chian, but we weren’t very in tune with where he was emotionally for all this back and forth and the ending with Chian was presented by the show as positive when we’ve already seen how miserable Fourmod has been every time he’s caught up in Chian’s orbit. As a result, it felt discordant to me to present him drifting back to Chian out of loneliness as a “happy” ending.

In terms of what the show could have done differently, I would have loved it if they’d left it at Fourmod walking away from Chian and allowing him to actually move on. That actually feels kinder to the character to me than him circling back to Chian. They could even have shown him meeting someone new if they wanted to reassure us he’d be fine. Alternatively, the ending we got for him, but presented as dark and depressing, also would have worked well for me (though clearly it’s not the note Boss wanted to end on).

I liked this show a lot which is why I felt a bit deflated by the ending falling short. But even with that said, I think it’s one of the best coming of age stories in BL.

[braidedhades]

just found out that non-aromantics actually have feelings towards the people they decide to have a crush on. Apparently it’s not like, “hmmm should I consider this person for dating? what are the pros and cons here?” Or like, “I want to be really close friends with that person” But it’s like an actual emotional response or something? An emotion that is different from the “I wanna be really close friends” emotion??

also I just figured out that I’m aromantic

[starry-bi-sky]

Okay so this is almost a direct copy-paste of my earlier reblog but only the Xin Yuan parts, because its long enough to be its own post and i want to share it! It deserves it's own post <3 typical starry stuff to write a 2k word long reblog, unfortunately.

I say almost because I went through to proof read and ended up adding more stuff.

I've been cooking on this idea for the last two days since I saw the Xin Mo!Shen Yuan post but??? I can't find anything on Xin Mo's backstory or how it came to be -- which means that's free fucking plot right there baby. That's a sandbox and im making LIFE SIZED CASTLES. I'm so excited.

The idea of Shen Yuan transmigrating centuries before the events of PIDW as Xin Mo -- but when he wakes up, he's not the sword. He wakes up in the body of a young boy named Xin Yuan. Now it makes sense for this boy to be a demon, but the drama, the intrigue, the spice of Xin Yuan being a human child.

SY wakes up as a boy below the age of ten, and the System tells him where he is, and SY is excited to meet his favorite protagonist -- only to gradually realize that he's like, a thousand years or so before the events of the novel. The rant he gives the system is legendary.

Bc what's the point of getting dropped into PIDW if he's never going to meet his favorite character??? This is a scam! BUT he settles into his new life, he's like, some orphan street rat or some other tragic airplane-esq backstory.

The system gives Shen Yuan his first mandatory quest: become a righteous cultivator. Which was like, kinda his plan/hopes anyways, except! There's like?? No official cultivator sects anywhere? The Cang Qiong Mountain Sect hasn't even been established yet, and there are pockets of cultivators running around, maybe some groups or schools popping up and then sinking back down, but nothing's really taken root!

If he asks someone how to become a cultivator, there's no straight answer. No "oh you can go to X to do that". He's pissed! How can he become a cultivator if there aren't any schools around to teach him? Deus ex machina, that's how.

Out of sheer luck, SY manages to help save a rogue cultivator, and promptly gets adopted by said rogue cultivator, who gives SY the name 'Xin Yuan'. He is ecstatic. And you know what? It's actually pretty fun!

He's getting to travel the world of PIDW in its early stages, and gets to see the building blocks for the eventual main story. He's discovering all this local flora and fauna that are foreign to his old world and unmentioned in the book, and he's learning cultivation! Granted, its unsafe, newly(ish) discovered cultivation, but it counts!

Wistfully, he thinks about perhaps he'll do something grand and get his name carved into legend. Something that would eventually help the protagonist later down the line in his quest for revenge.

The system remains silent to his thoughts.

But Xin Yuan doesn't take much stock in that daydream anyways. It's nothing more than fantasy to him; wish-fulfillment. He does discover however, that he is positively brimming with spiritual energy. Overwhelmingly so.

It's both a blessing and a curse, as it puts a strain on his meridians if he's not careful, and leaves him prone to qi deviations for the exact same reasons. He already has a heart demon or two from a few traumatic experiences in the past.

(bc hey! angst a day keeps the writer sadism at bay, and all that)

I'll say he's about... eight when he gets picked up by the rogue cultivator, who I'm calling Lin Kai bc he deserves a name. They travel around PIDW up until Xin Yuan is twelve, where he goes through a traumatic experience that results in a heart demon.

It's after that that Lin Kai decides to put a stop to his wandering, and find a place to settle down to raise Xin Yuan in. Coincidentally! They settle down in a nice mountain region that's thriving with spiritual energy. The mountains at the time were called something different, but they will be eventually known as the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect

Coincidentally, the mountain Lin Kai and Xin Yuan end up on is Qing Jing Peak. XY does not realize that the mountain he's on is Qing Jing. The System does not tell him. But he likes it there, more than he was expecting. And as much as he's traveled around, he really does enjoy being in one place.

He has a tendency to go down the mountain and help the village setting up down there, and when he's a teenager he starts venturing out more and more.

Xin Yuan forgets sometimes that he's in a novel, especially after settling down on Qing Jing peak. The system becomes remarkably quiet since there's no quests for him to do and not a ton of opportunities to get B-Points. He cultivates with Lin Kai, helps tend to the garden they're growing, goes down to the village to play with the other kids.

There's one boy he's best friends with, a boy whose not all that good with words, named Liu Zhihao. He's got potential for cultivation though, so Xin Yuan drags him up the mountain when he can so that Liu Zhihao can sit in on lessons with Lin Kai. He drags him all over the forest at the foot of the mountain to go look at bugs and animals.

(One time, when they're fourteen and Liu Zhihao has been learning cultivation for a few years now, Xin Yuan drags him out of bed late one night to go look at the stars. Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao about ascension -- something that still feels like a far off dream to many in this time -- that night, while they're sitting on the wet grass.)

("We should ascend together." Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao, jade eyes gleaming. Never let it be said that Xin Yuan doesn't love deeply, no matter what kind of love it is. He was always so lonely as Shen Yuan, Liu Zhihao is his best friend. "We'll become immortals, and then we won't ascend until the other is able to.")

(Liu Zhihao stares at him silently, his face unreadable. Then, quietly, he asks; "Promise?")

("Promise.")

When he starts adventuring outwards, further away from the mountain and the village, Liu Zhihao sticks to him like rice. Not that Xin Yuan's complaining, that's his best friend after all, and Liu Zhihao has become a formidable cultivator. He deserves to show off his skills.

He starts making something of a name for himself by the time he's, like, 18 -- although that name is in its baby steps, along with Liu Zhihao. They're slowly growing renown.

Perhaps XY uses his knowledge of PIDW and cultivation in general to help make advancements in the cultivation field. Although the system prevents him from sharing too much, it doesn't mean he can't practice it himself. Perhaps he's one of the first cultivators to develop a golden core. One of the first known immortal cultivators. One of the first to have a spirit sword.

(Although I don't know the logistics of any of this since my knowledge on xanxia/cultivation stuff in general is all still pretty new and google wasn't all that helpful lol.)

Either way, its my excuse to eventually make Xin Yuan come across as ethereal to other people. Peerless beauty SY for the win. Hs wifebeam is too strong, Xin Yuan has a line of suitors following after him and he's completely unaware of it. The rest of history is not.

Demon realm stuff has been stirring up since Xin Yuan was a kid, but at the time it was rare and in the beginning stages. Its been steadily ramping up and the system is sending him on more and more treacherous quests -- some of them mandatory, some optional. SY doesn't often take the optional ones unless it comes with a sufficient B-point reward.

for all intents and purposes though, he's a wandering rogue cultivator with Liu Zhihao, going from place to place to either help a town or village, or to discover more creatures or artifacts (although there aren't that many). Just all around living his life. He participates in a few major quest lines that are sure to get him mentioned in legend, even if it's a background character way.

(Unbeknownst to him, rather than being a side character in these legends, he's named directly. You can't become one of the first immortal cultivators and NOT get name dropped for clout.)

He has a spirit sword named Shā Mó, (杀 shā - to kill/weaken/counteract/reduce) (魔 mó - evil spirit, demon, possession). He routinely goes back to QJP to see Lin Kai, or to rest when traveling has worn down on him and he wants nothing more than to sleep somewhere he knows he'll be safe in. It becomes more frequent as Xin Yuan becomes more famous. Liu Zhihao often comes with him.

it all comes to a head though when the rifts between the demonic realm and the human realm become too great, and the balance between both realms becomes unstable. A demonic emperor's influence, wanting to merge the two realms so he could conquer both to satiate his own greed.

Typical evil king stuff. This comes to a climatic head in a great battle between every cultivator available and the demon emperor's army. Xin Yuan was one of the many who helped lead the charge.

In the end, it was Xin Yuan who ends up defeating the demonic emperor, but the rift that the emperor used to cross between worlds is destabilizing as well. Except instead of trying to close, it's getting bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow the heavens and earth and demonic realm whole.

You know how Yue Qingyuan's soul is bonded to his sword due to a qi deviation? Let's take it a step further >:)

Xin Yuan uses himself and Shā Mó to close the rift. However, it takes all of his spiritual energy to do so, as well as him filtering the demonic qi into his body to redirect it back to the demon realm.

In the end, Xin Yuan and his beloved sword Shā Mó fuse. Xin Yuan's soul becomes trapped in the sword. His physical body is unable to handle the immense amount of power it takes to close the rift, and is destroyed. He is immortalized in legend by his grieving cultivators.

(Liu Zhihao ends up ascending alone. He ascends with the hope that one day he'll see Xin Yuan again, even if it's in the face of someone else. Lin Kai does not ascend, too weighed down by the grief of losing his son.)

Xin Yuan, now Xin Mo, falls into a stasis. He's very confused and disorientated when he regains 'consciousness'. The system has been silent for most of his life, only popping up to give him mandatory quests, hints, points, or to answer any questions.

But once he wakes up, it cheerfully pops up again, congratulating him on completing the origin story of Xin Mo. SY freaks the fuck out. he'd shake the system screen if he could, but he doesn't have arms. or legs. or eyes for that matter.

He can sense his surroundings, but its all like imprints to him. He can sense the energies, but he can't see anything. It's all very disorientating and horrifying after years of being human. Like a sensory deprivation chamber.

The closing of the rift and the cycling demonic qi tainted both Sha Mo and Xin Yuan irreparably, and it did some kind of damage that resulted in SY needing to feed in order to use the spiritual powers. Kinda like how Xuan Su uses YQY's life force for it's spiritual energy, but instead of feeding on his own lifeforce, Xin Mo feeds on others.

The rest is history. Xin Mo is originally tied to the story of Xin Yuan -- believed to be all that remained of the man after he sacrificed himself to keep the realms separate. It's believed that the force of the realms closing permanently infused Sha Mo with demonic energy, turning it into Xin Mo.

But, like many stories do when faced against the tide of time, things get lost; chipped off; changed. Xin Mo is steadily separated from Xin Yuan, especially once it becomes clear how parasitic the sword really is, until they are all but separate entities themselves and the origin of Xin Mo's creation all but forgotten.

The years blur together when Xin Mo is not being wielded, and at first Xin Yuan was agonized by the fact that he stole the lives of all his wielders. He knows it's only a novel, but his decades spent in this life have softened him, and he's grown attached to the world around him.

But time erodes the mind like water erodes stone, and he becomes numb to it, then eventually anticipating of it. He forces himself to remember what he knows of PIDW's plot, and kinda fixates back on his old obsession on Luo Binghe. But while PIDW stays in his mind, his memories as Xin Yuan fall to the wayside.

Not forgotten, per se, but... tucked away. The system prevents him from forgetting fully.

Xin Mo isn't fully a demonic sword either i think, but instead harbors an ugly cocktail of both spiritual and demonic qi. Special circumstances and all that. Everyone just assumes he's a fully demonic sword because that's usually at the forefront, his spiritual qi weakened from the initial fusion and from years of not being fed spiritual qi. It's part of the reason his wielders always end up destroyed by him, other than the whole, yk, 'overwhelming qi' thing.

Nobody would recognize Xin Mo's human form as Xin Yuan other than some truly ancient demons. Of which Meng Mo might. But even that's iffy because there's a lack of surviving paintings of Xin Yuan, but also because of XM's demonic appearance and supposed lack of connection to XY.

Xin Mo has never spoken to his wielders before, not in the same way he does Luo Binghe. He tells Luo Binghe this, and he also tells Luo Binghe down the line that he is both spiritual and demonic -- something he also never told his wielders because there was no point to it.

okay okay i've got to end it here because its already gotten ridiculously long -- of which im both apologetic and unapologetic for -- but i DO think the Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan meeting (and reveal) would be fucking hilarious. Especially if SY has learned how to pop between sword form and human form by then -- although i guess it doesnt matter either way because SQH's reaction is still the same.

And that reaction is internally screaming and going "hey what the FUCK?? WHY DOES XIN MO HAVE A HUMAN FORM??? WHAT IS THIS??? SYSTEM??? EXPLAIN???"

meanwhile from his place on the sword hilt xin mo is squinting at Shang Qinghua in bewilderment and going "aren't you supposed to be dead" but doesn't pay too much mind to it because its not like its going to change anything.

...up until he catches shang qinghua going "WTF" silently from his little corner while all eyes are off him. One moment SQH is standing beside his king, and the next he's been tackled to the ground by one wild-eyed, human-shaped Xin Mo.

everyone, including SQH, thinks Xin Mo is going to kill him. It is a surprise to everyone when he does not, and instead dissolves into deranged, uncontrollable laughter after spitting out some phrase in some ancient tongue and watching SQH's eyes grow wide in recognition.

[non-operator]

Death Mark II thoughts

I'm like 8 months late, but I finally finished it-- and by finish, I mean I watched a playthrough.

It's been a year, but just in case: Spoilers Below

I think it's pretty significant that in order to get the true ending, Yashiki has to make it extremely clear to Sakamoto that his relationship with Michiho and Himeko is completely platonic. In fact, it seems that this is the only difference between the Good and True Ending.

In the Good Ending, he doesn't get that message through and that leads to Sakamoto pushing The Departed even harder to distance themselves from Yashiki, ultimately leading to her demise. I think this outcome happens because Sakamoto's insistence that the two girls keep their distance still expresses to The Departed that there is still a real possibility that they can get together with Yashiki. And as much as they want love and marriage, I don't think that was their ultimate desire-- and I don't think Departed!Douryou was lying when she said she disapproved of student-teacher relationships.

So then, Yashiki making Sakamoto understand that his rapport with the girls comes from concern for their safety and taking their worries seriously rather than anything else is what turns the tide. That Sakamoto allows Michiho to continue to investigate with Yashiki implicitly tells The Departed that Yashiki isn't interested-- and as such, he won't take advantage of their love (for him).

When The Departed died, their excitement for marriage and (most likely undeveloped) love for their chosen grooms were exploited by the adults they trusted. At that age, even if they later turned to feel indifferent or even hate their husbands in time, it was a time they should've been allowed to cherish those emotions. Kind of like that one reading of Romeo and Juliet, where the tragedy lies in the fact that children were not allowed to experiment with love due to the adults and the situation around them. I think this is also shown with how Departed!Douryou just wanted Yashiki to acknowledge Departed!Michiho loves him even if he can't accept it. Just because he knows that it is a love that will fade or immature, it is a real emotion to the girls experiencing it and it would be cruel to disregard it; unlike the priests who took advantage of these feelings to arrange the marriage only to ignore them once they started the ritual, if that makes sense.

(It might also be why Sakamoto later apologizing and allowing Departed!Michiho to continue investigating with Yashiki plays into her survival and the True Ending achievement: before while she was worried about keeping the girls safe from a potential predator, Yashiki has already made it clear to her before this point that he's not interested in them, but her main issue laid in how the situation could be misconstrued from an outside perspective regardless of intentions; even if she did accept that Yashiki wasn't going to go after the girls, she was largely worried about the girls' reputation and future-- as well as the school's. It's only when Yashiki makes it clear to her that his concern involves the general student population with all the "disappearances" as well as actually listening to his (temporary) students that Sakamoto relents. The priests had been preoccupied with tradition and the appearance of the brides, even the standards of choosing the grooms and brides were based on social reputation, somewhat reminiscent of Sakamoto (even if she genuinely cared for the students, it was in a way that overlooked their actual thoughts and feelings [i.e. the rising fear of The Departed or in the girls' case, wanting to be listened to]). So Yashiki's stubborn compassion and perseverance created change in the girls' environment that gave audience to their voice in a way.)

Which is all to say: The Departed truly let go of their grudge and "changed" for the better/"chose their humanity" because Yashiki had been a safe person to love-- not because he would love them back, but because he never would. The "marriage" in the True Ending then is a way for The Departed to safely live out a romantic daydream without the fear that they'll be hurt by it, as they had been when they were sacrificed. And I think it's Yashiki's adamancy on maintaining that boundary as well as making it clear to the adults around him and pushing for them to change their focus to treasure the girls' opinions that pushed The Departed to hold hopes and dreams once again, which they entrusted to the real Michiho and Himeko.

[lloydfrontera]

tfw when you write an entire novel with two protagonists that spent the entire plot getting closer to each other, becoming best friends and eventually both of them deciding they would rather die than allow the other to not live a long, fulfilling life, their friendship carrying most of the emotional weight of the entire plot and the emotional climax being one of them sacrificing his life so the other can live and then the other crossing literal universes to find him, a tearful smile in his face as he confesses how much he missed him. which is the scene you wanted to write and show the most because, again, this is the pay off to the slowburn you've been writing in the entire novel and what everything has been building up to since the very first chapter. and then you end the novel by having them share a smile, finally confident they'll be able to have a happy future.

but you also just gotta have one of them marry offscreen because everyone knows you can't be happy if you're not in a het marriage with kids lmao it's whatever it's okay i'm fiNE-

[lord-squiggletits]

What is the Tarnma penpals au? I've seen you mention it a couple times and am super curious about it!

Hiiii

So the Pen Pals AU is an idea that I got a couple of weeks ago. Kind of self-explanatory by the name, but the idea is it's a post-war scenario with a diplomatic ending b/t the Autobots and Decepticons. One of the many efforts to normalize relations is a pen pals program that's set up to pair Autobots with Decepticons under randomized pseudonyms. The goal is to try and create positive relationships based only on these letters and not any preconceived notions based on faction or identity. (Also it's pre-Earth which means it's pre-Delphi for Pharma, so his normal non-traumatized personality features.)

Pharma and Tarn naturally get paired up under this program, and the first part of the AU/fic (yes I'm going to write it eventually) is them basically having their pen pals relationship turn from friendship to heavily implied mutual romantic attachment. Their individual daily lives are also shown bc each of them is dealing with their own identity-related crisis: Tarn struggling with depression and addiction in the aftermath of all the things he did for the DJD and confusion over why Megatron just had them change so suddenly. Pharma with the realization that his whole life has just been defined by his accomplishments and he's lived his life in a way where he's oft-respected and admired, but never loved for who he is as a person rather than what he does.

The whole AU was originally meant to be fluffy and slice-of-life-esque (there was even an arranged marriage component in the very first conception of the idea), but as I fleshed out the setting more, I realized I wanted to actually delve deep into the implications of a post-war setting. So the Pen Pals AU has taken a darker turn recently; not darker as in fluffy romance to dead dove, but it's more like, the fluffy romance develops and then the past/war comes back to haunt Tarn and Pharma's relationship in a way that's very (re)traumatizing, both for them individually and their chances of being able to stay together as a couple.

So the fact that Tarn was in the DJD/oversaw Grindcore and did countless atrocities is very much an element of the story that's explored rather than shied away from. At first he deals with it on his own, and for a while he lives in blissful ignorance knowing that his pen pal is the one relationship he has with a "normal person" (he knows that his pen pal is a doctor, aka not a hardened soldier and criminal). Unfortunately things get complicated when his pen pal asks to meet IRL because he wants them to be more than friends, and Tarn realizes that he can't move forward with this new, blooming relationship without being honest about who he is. On Pharma's end, he has to grapple with the idea of choosing love over reputation, following his heart rather than his fear of social rejection/ostracization. Especially when the consequences of continuing to date Tarn could go from just "people judging him" to.... well, that's what me eventually writing the fic is meant to reveal. :)

TLDR: Tarn and Pharma meet as anonymous pen pals, end up having a lot of shared issues re: loneliness and isolated public personas, help each other solve their personal problems, share a mutual love of music, and fall in love, then realize who the other is. Complications ensue.

[pianapplez]

Hello there 👋👀,

So I just found your blog and had a lot of fun scrolling through all the pjo show crit😂 I couldn't help but notice that one tag you left on a post where you said you had some beef with Annabeth's portrayal in the books 👀 Would you mind elaborating on that if you're comfortable with it🙈? Because I absolutely share that sentiment, but it's sooo veeeery rare that I see other people express anything like it... I've found that trying to be a part of the fandom can be pretty alienating most of the time, if you're not exactly the biggest most devoted Percabeth shipper...😅 And often any criticism leveled at Annabeth just gets you a smack with the "internalized-misogyny" hammer... it's even worse in the tv show now due to... obvious reasons...

Again just if you're comfortable with answering of course🙈 There is a reason I stayed on anon after all...😅😂

Really glad you asked because i finally get to ramble about this heheheh (going forward, know that i skimmed over The Last Olympian to have a clearer sense of what I meant because that's the book where Rick fumbles her character more than the others)

i'm gonna try to make as much sense as possible but short answer would be, she's underdeveloped. Long answer:

She really got on my nerves in the last two books, with the whole Rachel debacle and then the Battle of New York. I can't really remember a single moment in those books where she and Percy aren't bickering or having heated discussions, which really made me question their friendship status. Of course, it's not like friends can't fight and it obviously builds up the (romantic) tension between them, but it got unbearable at one point.

I understand she's a teenager in an incredibly stressful situation that didn't even get to have a normal upbringing- she grew up way too fast (run away at 7, head counselor at 12) while also not really maturing, which is not a problem for a character, if it is handled properly. Given the fact that I am writing this, Riordan did not.

On the surface, my biggest beef is that Annabeth is not exactly held accountable for her actions (ie. treating Rachel a bit like shit and going off on Percy for a bunch of stuff.) I know Percy is to blame a bit here: as far as we know, in TLO he basically cuts the greek world out of his life as much as he can as a coping mechanism. And while yes, he never apologizes either, he doesn't give her nearly half the hard time she gives him: always either giving him the cold shoulder (there must be at least one example of this in the entire series but i cant be bothered to look it up sorry) or starting an argument only to then storm off (see the "you're a coward, Percy Jackson!" scene, which is not the fairest example since she was confronting Percy about ignoring camp but also was a bit too harsh about it) (especially after finally reading the prophecy and being under the impression that he was absolutely going to die when he turned 16 lmao) or just straight up storming off (see, Annabeth reacting when Rachel shows up for the first time during the battle of new york). While most of these feel, at least to some degree, fairly justified given how the entire situation does an absolute number on her emotions, she comes off a bit brattish and like she's trying to rile Percy up, especially when it comes to Rachel, which in the context of a battle that could mean the destruction of the world.... Well, it reads as a bit childish to me, and i wouldn't exactly have that much of a problem with it if it was dealt with in some way (a two-way apology would be nice).

After that first impression, i realized that Annabeth is barely ever anything else other than a plot device (when relating to Luke) or a love interest (when relating to Percy). This might be because the books are on Percy's POV. Hell, on the third book he's even conflicted when Annabeth is considering joining the Hunters of Artemis, aka, when making a choice for herself would mean he loses her (which is fine and dandy but it feels like Percy is more upset about her choosing her own path rather than being sad about not seeing her as often); we really only get a few glimpses of her, as in, actually her when she's on her own.

Obviously it's impossible to talk about Annabeth without touching on percabeth, which also is, in my opinion, what hinders Annabeth's character the most. On paper they sound great. The guy whose fatal flaw is loyalty falls in love with a girl whose been let down by people over and over, and she decides to never give up on the boy whose always had people give up on him (can't find one of the million posts that talks about this right now but it always goes something like that) And yeah, the bickering is really well written! But that's literally as far as it ever goes: they don't ever seem to have fun together, because 8 times out of 10 the bickering ends up being passive aggressive, and mostly done by Annabeth. My biggest gripe about percabeth is that their friendship seems to be based off... shared trauma. Literally. Other than going on quests together we are given no examples of them hanging out, nor a reason why they would want to spend time together in the first place, not even a shared hobby. Yes, in the fourth book they had a movie "date" planned but of course they didn't even get to it, and surprise surprise, they had a minor discussion, and surprise surprise, Annabeth was passive aggressive again. It's hard to picture them having fun together when even the author doesn't write in any scenes in which they get along smoothly (and before you say anything, a scene in which they get along where neither of them is about to die, and they're not talking about previous adventures. Gets a bit hard then, doesn't it?) It's even harder to picture them as a couple when the moment she gets upset about something, she starts coming off as emotionally manipulative (see, again, literally any conversation with Rachel or about Rachel)

To be fair, the books are relatively short and don't allow many "filler" chapters, if you will; there's always something happening to keep the main plot or a minor plot point moving forward, but it's not like there is no room to develop the characters' relationships, especially when we're talking about the main char and what is essentially his endgame. As an example we have Percy and Clarisse, or Percy and Beckendorf. Their interactions are brief but still hold so much weight.

Worst of all, Annabeth could be one hell of a character; what's most interesting of all is how being a daughter of Athena she is still incredibly emotionally driven, which is displayed very clearly with her fatal flaw being pride: her telling the Sphynx that her questions were too easy was not smart nor strategic: it was completely impulsive. I seriously think she wasn't far from being the best character in the series had she been given more time.

I guess i have as much beef with Annabeth as i have with Rick for doing her dirty. I really could sum this up with: while her emotions are justified, she acts upon them quite poorly. And this is what i mean when i say she's underdeveloped, because it would've been nice to see her come to her senses a bit.

Would love to read anyone's opinions on her character though, feel free to comment, even (or especially) if you don't agree with me!

[getosugurusbangs]

what if i said i actually love too weird to live, too rare to die and think it’s underrated. what then.