#I like the contrast of that with what happens to him

[akanemnon]

So um..................

I know your on a break but uh.. it was bound to happen but I suppose some things don't make sense now in twin runs right like toroiel.?

But also OH MY GOD WHAT A RIDE

What are your thoughts on the new chapters?

I suggest you read this post or the FAQ

Either way Deltarune Chapter 3 and 4 talk under the cut

SOOOOOOO that just happened.

I know the two chapters would be very different in tone, but I didn't think it would be THAT stark of a contrast.

I REALLY did not expect the Roaring Knight to make an appearance that early as Chapter 3. I honestly thought they would make their first appearance in Chapter 4, BUT I'M NOT COMPLAINING. Because WHOOOO that was a ride. I'm quite bad at the game, so I didn't get the shadow mantle before the encounter. But I DID see what happens when you actually go ahead and beat them! That puts so much shit into perspective. Especially with everything that's involving Kris.

I'm sure the fandom is busy putting all the puzzle pieces together and stuff. I know I AM! But it does feel nice to see that my interpretation of their dislike for the Player but outright needing them is pretty accurate. I didn't expect to be smacked with hockey stick, but hey... I getchu Kris. And I am really sorry.

ANOTHER thing I called was how dead people can turn into Darkners when tethered to an object. I feel really vindicated in my writing when I saw that.

Also can we talk about Gerson???? CAN WE TALK ABOUT MOTHERFUCKING GERSON BOOM???? Man, I am SO GLAD he got to shine in chapter 4. His presence in Undertale as a veteran of the human and monster war was already super interesting. And now he is IN THE FRIGGIN SPOTLIGHT AS A MENTOR FIGURE. I AM EATING THIS UP. Also his battle theme is a certified banger.

Oh yeah, speaking of the characters in general, I am SO HAPPY how much growth we got from both Susie and Ralsei in these two chapters. It is so insane how well-written these characters are. IT FEELS SO FUCKING REAL. Man, this is why Toby is such a big inspiration in writing for me. AND I DIDN'T EVEN MENTION TENNA YET????? I swear, when I first saw him I was instantly thinking of all the other Tenna interpretations out there and how they could have NEVER predicted this. And the SPAMTON CONNECTIONS??? These two idolized one another and took so much from each other but could never be the other. That is both sad and hilarious at the same time-

ALSO THE FUCKING TITAN AT THE END????? Now I can see why Toby would've never been able to do Deltarune as his first project. This shit was INSANE /verpos

I could go for hours about this btw. Still finding secrets here and there and rewriting bits from The Other Script as we speak...

[bullet-prooflove]

Forget-Me-Nots: John Carter x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @anna-bailey @ofsoapsuds @queenslandlover-93 @gemofspace

Summary: John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Companion piece to:

Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Carter wakes up with a hangover, the worst one he’s ever had, in a strange bed with a searing sensation in his chest and half of his clothes missing. His white shirt hangs open, his trousers are lord knows where and there’s a woman tucked in against his side, her legs tangled with his.

She mumbles in her sleep, tilting her head up towards him and that’s when he realises, that woman, it’s you.

You’re wearing a University of Chicago t-shirt that just about covers your ass and nothing else which only adds fuel to fire that is the raging hard on trying to jut its way out of his boxer shorts. There’s a damp spot already, pre-cum soaking through the fabric because he can feel your nipples against his chest, the heat of your core against his thigh. The worst part is you’re wet and it just plays into all the filthy fantasies he’s ever had about waking up in this exact situation with you.

Count the machines in the ED, he tells himself. List them, check them off…

That thought goes out the window when you stir again, your hand accidently caressing his dick. He bites his bottom lip to stifle his moan but it’s too late, the sound wakes you causing your head to lift off his shoulder suddenly.

It takes you two seconds to realise what’s happening before you pull away from him, he mourns the loss but he understands it because the last thing he was expecting when the two of you headed out to the bar last night was to end up in your bed.

“What the fuck…” You erupt, your hand scrubbing over your face as you cover your lower half up with the comforter from the bottom of the bed.

“Look nothing happened as far as I can tell.” He tries to reassure you before he gestures at his tented boxers. “And this is just a morning reaction-”

“Not that!” You tell him dismissing his throbbing cock completely to point at something on his chest. “I mean that.”

He props himself up on his elbows, his head tipping down to look at his chest. His gaze catches the flash of fresh ink on his left pectoral. It’s a heart, not half of one but a full one. The outer edge is drawn in ornate olive leaves, each one coloured in sage green. Your name is written in an italic font in the centre as if crafted by a sloped hand.

Crys.

“Fuck… Did I…?” You paw at the neck of your t-shirt, peering through the gap at your own chest.

A memory hits John like a freight train as he reaches out and grabs your wrist turning it over to show you your own tattoo. A delicate set of three forget-me-nots etched into your skin. It’s beautiful, the sky blue petals contrasting against the pinprick yellow centres, the stems a thin line of black with a green leaf or two.

Carter, he grew up in high society, he knows exactly what they symbolise.

Constancy, enduring affection, and love.

True love.

He thinks he explained that to you last night when you chose them.

“I gave you flowers and you gave me your heart.” He whispers as he recalls your fingers lacing with his, the rotary pen buzzing in his ears. He didn’t even feel the pain, he was just happy to belong to you, to have the proof of it written on his chest.

“I actually really like mine.” You tell him as his thumb chases over the hollow of your wrist. “Yours though…”

“You don’t like it?” He asks, tilting his head to look at it again.

“I do it’s just… it’s going to raise a lot of questions for the next woman you sleep with.”

“I’ll just tell her the truth.” He says sagging back into the pillows, his head spinning. “It’s for my best friend, the one that's helping me become a doctor.”

“You don’t have to keep it.” You say softly, settling down beside him. He turns onto his side to face you as you drape part of the comforter over him, hiding his lingering stiffness.

“I know.” He tells you as he snuggles down into the pillow, his eyes fixed on yours so you can see the sincerity in them. “But I want to.”

Love John? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[fourthcrow]

── JON SNOW x CHUBBY!READER HEADCANONS.

notes: this is my first time posting my work online, constructive criticism is very much appreciated! this man has me barking like a rabid dog in heat I ain't even gonna lie. not proofread oops. this is rushed because I am very sick this week.

warnings: fem!wife!reader, basic body descriptions, small mentions of insecurities, tooth-rotting fluff, written with later seasons jon in mind, sfw and nsfw. mdni. jon's a munch for his wife.

— SFW. (slightly suggestive)

I feel like jon wouldn't care what his lover looks like, as the saying goes, beauty is on the inside, but there are pluses to having a chubby wife. a soft, plush woman to call his own.

jon loves having a hand on you at all times, and not even in a sexual way. he simply needs that contact, feeling the way your softness contrasts against his own hard build. whether it's a hand on the small of your back as you walk alongside or a steady grip on your plump thigh beneath the table during feasts, jon wants needs to feel you. his favorite thing is probably holding your hand. it's so simple and innocent, and yet the feeling of your soft skin against his own is near maddening. his palms are rough and calloused from years of swordplay and hard work, while yours seem just as delicate as the petals of a rose.

the way your body fits into dresses is one of his favorite sights. the bodice hugs the flare of your hips and outlines the curves of your beautiful body in all the right ways. whenever you wear a gown with a particularly low neckline, it offers a tantalizing view of the swell of your breasts, a teasing sight of what he already knows lies beneath, but still feels his mouth run dry like some green boy. because it's you. you, his gorgeous, sweet, perfect little wife.

if jon could curl up in bed with you and bury his face in-between your chest, in the soft pudge of your stomach, or lie his head upon your lap, and stay there forever — he would do so in a heartbeat. it's one of his favorite places. it makes him feel safe, it makes him feel loved. especially when you delicately trace over his features or run your fingers through his hair.

another thing your husband adores is the way your rounded cheeks split into a grin each time you see him. it's so very endearing, watching the way your visage shifts, enlighten by his very presence alone.

very much gives grumpy x sunshine. jon, your quiet, brooding, king in the north who only ever shows his sweeter side to you, all vulnerable and caring in the warmth of your embrace. he would not hesitate to defend you whenever needed. while jon loves your body, all its softness, all its warmth, he knows that self-love is much harder for you. some lady from the court whispered under her breath about you? not happening. a drunken lord called you a horrid name between a snicker and another swig of ale? not on jon's watch. you're his wife, his love, and he will not stand for any disrespect. he only wishes you could see yourself through his own eyes.

and then there's the more practical side that comes with the extra bit of weight you carry. winters in the north are harsh and unforgiving. jon doesn't want some frail, delicate woman who he fears won't make it past the season. you come with a bit of extra hardiness, extra warmth.

another aspect of such topics is the prospect of carrying children — if that was something you both would wish for — again, jon doesn't want a fragile thing to worry about. he doesn't want you to break while you're carrying his child, and while he will still worry, he knows your body is practically made for bearing his little wolf pups.

— NSFW.

we already know that jon is canonically a munch. between your legs is surely better than whatever paradise comes after death. the way your fingers thread through his dark curls, tousling them from their bun, your pliant body squirming beneath him. oh, it's his own personal heaven. jon loves the way your plump thighs wrap around his head as he worships you with his tongue and lips. he could spend an eternity there, slurping up your nectar and suckling on your swollen clit. it has him groaning against your cunt and grinding against the featherbed.

jon loves the sight of your body sprawled out beneath him, your hair splayed across the pillows like a silken halo, framing you as his angel in the flesh. he loves to watch the way your flesh molds to his fingers as he grips your thighs or waist, the way the skin ripples with each one of his thrusts.

and your boobs. gods, your boobs. it doesn't matter what shape they are, or how big they are, he would kiss and suck and knead them until you were whining, crying out for him for more. I am a firm believer that jon snow is a boob guy.

his favorite thing when you are intimate is simply holding you as close as possible. with one strong arm tucked beneath your body, keeping you pressed against the hard planes of his chest as he drags his hips against yours. his other forearm is propped beside your head, keeping him up so he can watch the way your face scrunched in bliss, the way you look up at him like he's your whole world. his hand cradles your cheek, thumb reverently stroking your skin as he keeps you close and makes you cum.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

FLORDIA KILOS- F. CASTLE

day seven of the june bug masterlist

pairing: frank castle x girlfriend! fem! reader

word count: 1.1k

summary: your boyfriend gets a little handsy when applying your sunscreen at the beach...

warnings: very suggestive, pet names, swearing, fluff, lots of suggestive touching, reader takes of her bikini :)

 “come on down to florida, i got somethin' for ya/ we could see the kilos or the keys, baby, oh yeah- guns in the summertime, chic-a-cherry cola lime/ prison don't mean nothing to me, if you'll be by my side”- florida kilos, lana del rey

A handgun had been shoved in your little purse, with three bullets to adorn it.

A 38 caliber Colt Detective, placed right next to your Frank's pack of smokes, and spare ribbon bows for your hair.

He had insisted you bring it, just to be safe. And despite how anxious that made him sound- this was the chillest you had seen him out in the open, probably ever.

He was a very protective man, scared of loss and crimson stains if they were yours. With his military background, and his vigilante activities when the sun had set, he was on high alert. But today, he seemed just a little more at peace.

His breathing slowed, matching the rhythm of the waves as they washed up on the shore, before journeying back out to sea.

Something you noticed he only did when he got home, bruised and battered and realized that you were still there, still safe and still his. Holding you close as he caressed you to sleep, as if you had fought the battles every night.

You had a strong feeling the reason he was so calm was because he knew no one else was coming. With what connections- you didn't know, but he had managed to reserve the little Flordian beach just for the two of you.

You glanced over at him from where you lay on your towel, skin soaking in the warm rays of the sun- in contrast to him lounged in a chair- under the umbrella.

His eyes were closed, lashes fluttering against his cheek as he savoured the warmth, the peace and the quiet. This is how it felt to be with you, and he wanted to savour each moment of serendipity he could before going back to New York.

You were happy you could convince him to take a little getaway with you- to where it was warm and sandy. You lowered your little heart shaped sunglasses to admire him fully, letting your eyes glance over the tanned outline of his abs, the veins bulging in his lean forearms.

Your admiration was quickly caught- a smirk forming on his face before he peeled his eyes open, feeling your staring before you were even aware he was awake.

“Are you checkin me out doll?” he cracked an eye open.

“Am I not allowed to admire my own boyfriend?” you asked, not backing down from his heated stare, watching as his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.

“Sure ya are. But only if I can do the same.”

You scoffed. “You do the same to me without asking my permission.”

“You like it.” he chuckled, and you didn't have anything to say to that- because it was the truth. Frank was always watching you. Staring at you, eyeing you up and down everytime you were in eyesight.

Whether he was making you twirl in whatever outfit you had on, or simply admiring your body as you slept, running a hand down your curves- he was always marveling at how you were his. How such a beautiful, delicate- but feisty little thing could be claimed as his, and no one else's.

You liked the attention, though you were a little shy at first. Cheeks heating under his praises and sweet touches. Now, you were used to it- but it still made you feel a surge in your chest all the same. He was always so quiet and stealthy with it too, making you jump a little, the thud of your heart quickening its pace in your ribcage.

It had happened now, a hand on your ass giving it a gentle squeeze making you jump as he soundlessly leaned over you, planting a kiss to your exposed shoulder.

“Gonna come tan with me big boy?” you looked at him over your shoulder, giving him a flirty smile.

“You’re cute. I’m putin more sunscreen on your pretty lil skin doll, it's time for s’more.”

You sighed, kicking your feet up to brush his arm as he pulled out the lotion, giving another trail of kisses to your shoulder blade. Taking care of you, as always.

And you soaked in it, just as you basked in the sun. Chilled hands caressed your ass, his large hands rubbing the lotion into your skin, eliciting a little moan from you as he squeezed.

He stilled. A smirk wide on his face. “Y’say somethin sweetheart? Ya gotta speak up for me.” he cooed, slowly tracing his fingers up your back, rubbing it soft and deep into your muscles.

“Mmm no just feels good. Thank you Frankie.”

Ahh, there was that pet name he loved. When your brain started to turn off, and you fell into a needy, submissive state where all you craved was his affections. And he'd give them to you, happily.

You squirmed under his touch, as his hands trailed under the little string of your bikini top. “Gotta make sure I get everywhere doll. Don't want the sun damaging this pretty skin.”

You nodded, biting your lip as he worked his magic, easing any tension from your back and shoulders, making you clench your toes as his fingers ghosted the string, to give it a little tug.

“Gotta do the other side sweet thing. You wanna flip over?” His fingers tugged and the string came loose, bikini dropping to the towel below as you turned over, revealing yourself to him. He let out a low whistle, positioning himself so you were shielded from the sun, letting you see his reactions.

They made you giggle, the widening of his eyes and bite of his lip as if he was seeing your boobs for the first time.

“God damn. Shoulda made you keep this at home.”

You laughed, reaching up to pull him in for a kiss, nails scratching the nape of his neck as his lips clashed with yours, hot and heavy. You moaned, arching your back, letting your bare tits brush against his chest as he let his lips trail down your neck, past your collarbone and to your breasts.

“S’fuckin pretty baby. Can't believe these pretty tits are all f’me.” he groaned, squeezing one in his hand, wrapping his lips around the other as he tugged harshly at your nipple with his tongue.

You whined, heels digging into the sand as he pinned you down, nails digging into his skin hard enough to hurt.

“Gonna finish with the sunscreen Frankie?” you managed to quip out as he stared up at you, gaze never leaving yours as he bit down on the skin to make you yelp.

“You distract me.”

“Oh I distract you? Mister...”

He smirked. “Fair enough. Lemme finish what I started, then we can get to some real fun in the sun, or whatever those losers say.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I always did wonder where those silver yan headcanons came from…could it be you’ve been an unconscious simp? And now that he’s dressed just so, it has been fully dragged into your conscious plane of mind?

[Referencing these headcanons; ask is also referencing this post!]

NOOO 😭 I’m not a Silver stan, subconscious or not… I do admit that Silver would be the type of character I would go for a few years ago, but I no longer have an interest in those pristine princely do-gooder types 💀 They’re so… swuimshy… I kinda wanna shove’m in my mouth and chew’m like marshmallows.

BUT!!! You can never underestimate the power of good clothes 😤 Nice formal attire can make anyone look fantastic! And it just so happens that Silver got the nice formal attire this time around. I bet I’ll probably squeal and clap my hands when Sebek and Riddle get similar looks for their own Clubwear cards.

The yandere!Silver headcanons originated with a character named Elbert Greetia from Ikemen Villains. He vaguely reminded me of Silver (especially in the looks department) but has a really dark, obsessive streak to him. I have a habit of doing Ikevil (Elbert’s route) and Twst (around book 7, when Silver made frequent appearances) dailies back-to-back so the two characters must have merged in my mind and led to me contemplating what a yandere Silver would be like. I think it would work sooo well for him, considering the contrast between his twisted behavior and his angelic face, and how Silver canonically sacrifices too much of himself for others. It’s fertile ground to plant the seeds of obsession.

[flo-zoinks]

I pressed post impulsively because I like doing it (there’s a confirm button normally) but since I got a new phone this one doesn’t have it in the app so it just sent prematurely soo

Ok damn 😭😭😭💔 (ily ty babes)

Why I love Jack Marston’s character

I’ve split this into main points generally:

The first is that I’m a sucker for identity problems in characters. Especially when that involves parental issues or ‘birthright’ ideas. Jack’s internal struggle as he grows up forever being the ‘child of John’, the last name of Marston feeling to belong more to his Father than himself, gives him this mental conflict of feeling compelled to bask and assign himself to being the kin of John, to chase that same feeling of validation by knowing he is the ‘same as his father’, to the contrasting want to separate himself from his name and birth, hating who he sees in the mirror as a reflection of his parent and life rather than who he should see, himself. Jack hates how he resembles his Father, being a deadbeat and a terrible person to the majority of eyes, but that feeling fights another deeper feeling that he is his Father anew, and that pride he feels for carrying on his name as his ‘successor’. I love those, it’s so deep and set-up to create a beautiful complexity of a character that I find a lot of interest in. Partly I think I carry similar feelings, so it might be me relating in some way. Johns mixed lines against his Father, to guilt, to pride (eg when he shouts that he’s “John Marston’s boy!” (Paraphrasing?)), it’s so intriguing to watch and focus upon that I feel drawn to the character.

Another point is that he’s just a really fun character. He’s funny as hell, so done with all this, and just fun to play as. I enjoy seeing him in cutscenes, (he’s so sassy), and even as a child he’s adorable at 4, making it even more entertaining to see how he changes as he grows and develops shaped by his world. Nobody can tell me that boy is not Marston’s with his bitch stares in 1911.

Also, he’s so ‘unknown’. Whilst with most of the main characters we get a general understanding of what happens to them, how they were raised, how they are and how they end, Jack’s is less known. Yes, we clearly see by the far the most out of any character Jack’s life growing up, the writers purposefully miss out many crucial details to provoke the interested players. Jack drops a lot of lines in rdr1 that implies more went on in between the events of the epilogue and rdr1, that John ‘ran off again’ or otherwise, to make us question just how much of a role model John does play in his life. But more importantly, we see nothing at all of the events from John’s death to Abigail’s.

We as players have little to no knowledge of what happens to make Jack fully succumb into becoming an outlaw, especially in the day of 1914 in which that lifestyle is near entirely eradicated, and what transpired in his most crucial formative years then. Beecher’s hope is desolate, empty, no life at all. You wonder, how did Abigail and Jack manage? How did Jack, who we see as a prominent writer and reader enthusiast, seemingly give it up the play the deadly gamble of becoming an outlaw? What was the final push? We can make inferences, of course, that his Father’s death caused some never-ending hunger for revenge and anger inside of him, but we can never know. Abigail would’ve killed him herself if she saw him as an outlaw, or so we thought. Did he wait until she died ?

What’s even more crucial from that point, is we have no idea about the future. Jack cannot survive as an outlaw, having killed a prominent former Pinkerton with constant surveillance by the PINKERTONS, in an especially obvious place too of Beecher’s hope. So, what happens to him? Is he suicidal, understanding the near certainty of death he has by picking this fight? Or is he just fuelled by anger, and intends to act out revenge for his whole life? We don’t know if they ever catch him, if he lives, if he finds happiness or anything. And I doubt we ever will

Also lowk hear me out in 1914 like Damn ok

Not reading ts over bruh yap yap yap 💔thanks for asking me!!!! What about you ?

[st7rnioioss]

𓂅 ♥︎ SKATER!CHRIS x GIRLY!READER

⋆ ˚ .ೃ ࿔ * pairing... skater!chris x girly!reader

𓂃 ֹ ᮫ in which... skater!chris and girly!reader kiss!! for the first time!!!

warnings... fluff, kissing, swearing, sooo freaking tooth achingly sweet

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟ “the stars look really bright tonight,” you said softly, leaning into chris’s side. the gentle breeze pinched your skin, but not to the point of goosebumps—just a nice, fresh breeze.

chris nodded, awkwardly trying to keep his arm from reaching around you to hold you closer, managing to hold himself back. “yeah, they are. i think it’s less cloudy tonight,” he whispered back, watching the moon, round and bright in the sky.

you smile to yourself, turning to look at chris. he seemed.. off. you had no idea whether to blame it on the wind or jump to conclusions and say he looked nervous. either way, you shift a little closer to him.

chris looks at you too, the only noise besides cars in the distance being his friends in the back, still skating, and the creaky bench beneath you. he’d managed to pull you along once again, not that you were really complaining much about it anymore…

noticing his gaze, your eyes flicker between him and the moon, before you decide to settle on him and his slightly pink cheeks.

“what’s up?” you squeak, smiling gently at him while keeping eye contact. he shuffles a little, looking like he’s unsure what to do with his hands—or himself in general. “nothing, just.. a little cold. that’s all,” he smiled back at you.

your heart is thumping in your chest, hard enough that you were sure he could tell by how you were slightly shaky on your hand, your cheeks flushed red. nothing is said, just taking each other in, way too intimate for anyone to perceive it as a friendly look, his friends noisy in the back, yet you filter it out.

chris feels exactly the same—heart racing, thoughts too loud, and eyes searching yours. slowly, he leans a little closer to you, testing the waters—your eyes widen a little, and the second his eyes drop to your lips, for just a split second, you know exactly what he’s trying to do.

you don’t move, just keep your eyes on his that were stuck on your lips. carefully, he leans in closer, so close that you feel his warm breath fan over your cold skin, a nice contrast.

gently, chris pressed his lips to yours, keeping his hands to himself in case he’d ruin anything—he hadn’t exactly announced that he wanted to kiss you.

you stiffen, eyes still wide open, not moving an inch while he kissed you. not that you didn’t want to, you just had zero clue how to react. a second passes, and he pulls back, enough to lock eyes with you again, his whole body close to a nervous breakdown.

until you lose control, a small smile creeping onto your lips, your cheeks starting to feel hot. chris sighs in relief, hesitantly reaching a hand out to place beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb running across your lower lip before he pulls you in for another kiss.

the kiss is different—less awkward, less testing, and way more passionate, like you’d both been waiting forever for this to happen.. which you had.

when you pull back, you both realize just how quiet it’d become, traffic still coherent, but otherwise completely silent. you both look over your shoulders after giving each other a shy smile, just to see chris’s friends staring at you both, one of them with a phone in hand.

“that’s right! i said you could fuckin’ do it, man!” a guy laughs, holding up a thumbs-up to chris, another guy doing the same motion at you.

“oh my god, that’s so fucking weird,” chris chuckled, and you immediately go completely shy, unaware of the fact that they’d been looking, quickly going to cover your face with your palms. chris is just as embarrassed, his whole face going red as he flips off his friends who are still laughing, finally wrapping his arm around you.

“thank you,” he whispers after a minute of giggles, finally getting to look at your face again. you whine in embarrassment, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs, leaving a kiss on your cheek. “thank you, too,” you murmur, blindly reaching for his hand, which he happily takes with a big grin on his face.

more skater!chris x girly!reader here!

˚𝜗𝜚 notes... one more freaking exam and im done. yay!!!

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❛❛ © ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023 ❜❜

[witchthewriter]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐈���� 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐀 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐠𝐠𝐬?

inspired by @hallowed-harpy.

a/n: this is a long post, it also includes what the eggs look like, their names and the reaction to the eggs. Also how it affects the plot...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𖤓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃: a clutch can have 3-5 eggs in it.

Viserion, had been absent for a while now, and Dany was getting worried. Where was he? With so much happening and enemies seemingly surrounding her, she wanted to make sure Viserion was okay. And he had been acting differently...So, she climbed atop Drogon and they went looking.

・Viserion had always been affectionate; the most affectionate out of the three dragons.

・Dany always thought of him as a 'mama's boy,' but as she flew over mountain, sea and sand, she finally realised.

・Viserion was not a 'he' afterall.

・Drogon and Dany watched as Viserion huddled against a mound.

・To anyone else, it looked like a pile of rock, but as Dany got closer, she saw the clutch.

・It wasn't overally large, so Dany guessed there were three. Three eggs. Just like the ones she was gifted all those years ago.

・Drogon landed, in Viserion's eyesight; a respectful distance. Physically telling Viserion that he was not there to dominate.

・Dismounting, she walked the rest of the distance.

・When reaching her youngest dragon, she was hit with a wheel of emotions; heart ache, love, shock, benevolence and fear.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon, Viserion.” (My beloved Viserion)

・Dany cried out, moving slowly toward her daughter.

・Viserion made a crooning near-whine, when she saw Dany.

"Oh my girl," Dany cried, coming to touch Viserion's face.

・And it felt like seeing her properly, for the very first time.

・The golden dragon huffed, and nudged her nose toward the enclosed eggs.

・Dany knelt down and she was astonished.

・The eggs pulsed with life, such a contrast between these and Dany's own eggs.

・Drogon swooped overhead, guarding the area. Eliminating all threats.

・Since Viserion had kept her clutch a secret for so long, Dany decided the eggs should stay there. Only a dragon could reach that cave. Or a dragonrider.

・Only a chosen few are told about Viserion and her eggs, i., Missendei, Greyworm, Tyrion. Yet somehow the rumors spread.

・This becomes so much more than the war for the Iron Throne.

・Now it's about legacy. It's about what will change in Westeros.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐠𝐠𝐬

So, Vis birthed four eggs.

Not heavy in weight; they are lighter than stone.

As they grew, the shells hardened.

They were warm, pulsing with life. Colourful and vibrant. They thrummed when touched. It felt like a tickle, to them.

Rhaegal will not approach them. Drogon, seen far off in the mountains, hasn’t returned since they were laid.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭

The information spread like a wildfire, no matter how hard Dany tried to conceal it.

Assassination attempts multiply. Priests in red, white, and black arrive to declare omens of doom.

They send envoys to buy the eggs with gold, slaves, ships

Archmaesters declare her a second Maegor.

They declare that she is 'Not just a Targaryen, but here to End Man’s Rule.'

And they have that last part true...

𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭

Those who were once allies out of strategy begin to see Daenerys not as a liberator, but a founder of an age.

Tyrion stops thinking like a Hand. And starts thinking like a man writing a new world.

Missandei grows more devoted. She watches the eggs with wonder. There is no fear in her. Only awe.

Grey Worm triples the guard at Danerys' side.

The alliances she has with other Houses, are now different. She is not the one seeking allies for politics. She has now become formiddable.

Soon people will be begging for a union. And any kind at that.

Dany doesn't need to marry for alliances; she can marry for love.

She has now become the top predator.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

Dany grieves. Because this was never meant to be her path. She cannot birth a child, and now her dragon can? Danerys weeps, quietly, one night with her hand on the eggs. But not with jealousy. But with hope. A clear vision of what she must do. Who she must be. However, she does feel fear. And a lot of it. Because Viserion’s clutch is not a symbol. It is a weapon of nature, born without cost—and therefore without balance. So...what will best the cost? Who will she lose?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

🌈 The new dragons might have deeper ties to the world’s mystical forces:

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝑶𝒍𝒅 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒂: As the eggs didn't lay dormant for centuries like Dany's had. They may carry Valyrian magic. Potentially unlocking secrets about the old dragonlords and maybe even their ancient spells.

𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕: The presence of dragons often corresponds with the resurgence of magic. These dragons might further amplify that magic, this creates opportunities... the good and the bad kind.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 is changed abundantly. Where Viserion chose to lay her eggs, the area and beyond - began to grow, and in ways never seen before. Beautiful greenery with vines twisting over stone as if pulled toward the eggs. There's blooming flowers ... even those out of season. Some people were most amazed when herbs long thought extinct begin to appear in unexpected places.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒏𝒔' 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 began to change; even their dreams. Those that were closer to the mountain, dreamt of the future. Of more dragons. Of magic.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬?

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲. 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞. 𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲.

[cheshireliam]

"Once Again, An Evil From Which You Can't Return" Story Event: Chapter 2

Liam Evans & Harrison Gray

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

This event story works in such a way that Chapter 1 is for Suitor A and Chapter 2 is for Suitor B, before splitting into two endings.

The night I went to see Liam’s play.

I couldn’t fall asleep… so I was returning to my room from the kitchen with a cup of warm milk in my hand.

On the way, I heard a voice coming from the dimly lit hallway where moonlight was streaming in.

???: Don’t let it bother you too much. 

I stood there in wonder of who the voice belonged to, and its owner emerged from the shadows. 

(Harrison…) 

Kate: You could tell? 

Harrison: Yeah. You can’t lie to save your life. You’re probably the furthest thing from a real liar I’ve ever met. 

Kate: A-am I that easy to read?

Harrison: About time you realised that yourself. 

He narrowed his eyes like a sly fox from a fairytale story. 

I had no recollection of what kind of conversations I had with them before I lost my memories, or whether we went on missions together. But…

(For him to be concerned about me… Harrison must be a kind person.) 

Kate: You’re right, Harrison… the matter has been weighing  on my mind. 

Kate: Ever since losing my memories, it's like there’s been something lingering deep in my chest… 

Kate: Everyone is telling me how I used to be, what I used to do, but… none of it feels real, and that scares me. 

All the emotions I had been keeping bottled up poured out at once, and Harrison spoke gently in response. 

Harrison: Then why not… treat it like a mystery to solve and have fun with it?

Kate: Treat it like a mystery and have fun with it…?

Harrison: Yeah. Right now, there’s endless possibilities laid out in front of you, the future is wide open. 

Harrison: There’s a possibility you had every member of Crown wrapped around your little finger, or maybe you were their top detective, solving even the toughest cases left and right. 

Kate: Fufu, what even is that… 

Harrison’s absurd suggestions caught me off guard, but they did melt the tension away and make me laugh. 

Harrison: Or maybe, for example—

Harrison: —... Kate. I’m your lover. 

Kate: … 

The tender, aching tone of his words resonated in my ears. When I looked up, I saw Harrison grinning in contrast to the seriousness I heard in his voice.

Harrison: Just kidding… Was that a lie? Or the truth? 

Kate: … Are you saying that’s one of the possibilities too? 

Harrison: Exactly. Did you fall for it? 

Kate: … I did. Your facial expression was so serious, I almost believed you…

Harrison: In any case, regardless of whether what I said was true… you really should try taking things a little easier. 

Kate: Yeah… you’re right. Thank you, Harrison. I think I’ll try moving on and working towards getting my memories back with a more positive mindset. 

Harrison: That’s the spirit. … And if you’d like, I could even help you out. 

Kate: Really? In that case, I’d love that…! 

…

The next day, he really did agree to go outside with me.

He said he’d take me to places I’d been to before, and the first location was—

… 

Kate: That's a lot of books…

Harrison: This is where you chased me down, saying you wanted to know more about my curse. 

Kate: So that happened… 

Harrison: Now, was that a lie or the truth? 

Kate: Geez, there’s no way I’d know that without my memories, okay? 

Harrison: Looks like nothing’s clicking yet. Guess we’re off to the next location. 

…

The next place he took me to was a café filled with the sweet aroma of baked treats.

Kate: Mmm… it melts in my mouth. I’ve never had ricotta pancakes this fluffy before! 

Harrison: Second time you’ve had them.

Kate: Huh?

Harrison: Was that a lie, or the truth?

Kate: This taste… 

Kate: Even if it’s my second time having this, there’s no doubt these pancakes would impress me just as much as the first. 

Harrison: No one asked for a review, gourmand. 

…

And then, when it was almost sunset, we arrived at—

Harrison: Remember this place? 

Leadenhall Market — an indoors market lined with restaurants, cafés, butchers, and bookstores. 

(But anyone who lives in London would know this place.)

Kate: … Did we come here together before? 

Harrison: Yeah, we went to that bookstore over there for research.

Kate: Research? 

Harrison: I work as a proofreader for a living. 

As I scanned the storefronts, hoping to trigger any of my lost memories, I spotted a book cart with wheels set out near the entrance… 

When I approached and started browsing the books on display, Harrison suddenly widened his eyes in surprise. 

Harrison: This is the one! This is the reference I’ve been looking for. I can’t believe I’d find it now of all times. 

He picked up the book and eagerly started flipping through the pages. 

(I’ve never seen Harrison like this before…)

His mint-coloured eyes were clear and sparkling like the sky after the rain. 

In that moment, I felt like that was the most genuine version of him I’d ever seen, without all the lies and pretense. 

Harrison: What are you staring at?

Kate: Just happy to learn you love books. Ah, and please don’t say that line about whether I think it's a lie or truth. 

Kate: It’s written all over your face. You LOVE books. 

Harrison: … 

Harrison’s expression twisted.

And then his eyes lowered, his bangs casting a shadow over his face. 

Kate: Harrison? 

Harrison: … Sun’s going down, it's about time we head back. 

…

He purchased the reference book from the shop and we retraced our journey back to Crown’s castle. 

(Harrison showed me to all those places, yet I couldn't recall a single thing in the end. And…) 

The image of Harrison’s expression twisting ever so slightly lingered in my mind. 

(He said it was only a possibility when he claimed to be my lover earlier… but was it truly only that?) 

As we walked side by side, Harrison reached into his coat to tuck the book away—

Harrison: … Ah. 

With a light metallic clink, something fell from his chest pocket.

It was a small tin of candy. 

Harrison: Here, catch.

He tossed it through the air, and a mint-coloured candy landed in my outstretched palm. 

Kate: Thank you.

I popped it into my mouth, and a refreshing sensation spread immediately. 

Harrison: … Mint is my favourite flavour out of all the candy in the tin. 

Harrison: Was that a lie, or the truth?

He repeated the phrase he’d used countless times that day.

Harrison: … This is the last time I’m asking. 

Although that last line was said in a murmur, his eyes were gazing directly into mine, with an unwavering look of longing. 

[caressedcardia]

Xoma's Female Patient Experiment, Part 1

I was inspired by @Xoma66 's latest work, "Female Patient Experiment" (Trailer) to write this story. I really enjoy watching both of them brutally resuscitating each other. I asked for their permission before starting to write ;)

Here goes.

The medical bay was a stark contrast to the chaos that had been her world only moments ago. The sterile white walls reflected the cold, unfeeling lights above, and the beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound that pierced the eerie silence. Beneath the thin white blanket, the woman's body lay still, the ECG showing that she had long expired. The doctor, a tall, muscular man with piercing eyes and a sharp jawline, strode into the room with a sense of urgency that made the air around him crackle with anticipation. The scent of antiseptic clung to him like a second skin, a testament to his unyielding dedication to his craft.

In his hand, he clutched the syringe, filled with a cocktail of the tiniest of soldiers—nanobots designed to wage a war on the ravages of death. The needle gleamed like a jewel in the stark light, and as he inserted it into her chest, he whispered a silent incantation, a prayer to the gods of science and medicine. He depressed the plunger, watching the fluid vanish into her skin, the nanobots swarming like a colony of ants eager to mend what the universe had deemed broken.

For a moment, nothing happened. The room remained as still as a painting, the only movement the almost imperceptible rise and fall of the doctor's chest as he held his breath. The woman on the table remained a statue of marble, unyielding and silent. Her eyes, once vibrant and alive, stared unblinking at the ceiling, reflecting the cold, unfeeling lights above. The doctor waited, his heart racing as he watched the ECG, the line as flat as the desert horizon.

Suddenly, a tremor rippled through the woman's body, sending a jolt of electricity through the doctor's fingertips. Her body arched off the table, her breasts straining towards him as if in a silent plea. He took a step back, the syringe falling from his hand to clatter against the floor. The seizure grew in intensity, her limbs flailing in a wild dance of life and death. The ECG spasmed into a cacophony of peaks and valleys, a maelstrom of chaotic activity that spoke of the fierce battle within her.

"Yes," the doctor murmured, a twisted smile playing across his lips. "Come back to me." He reached for the defibrillator paddles with a hunger that was both professional and primal. The rubber grips felt reassuring in his hands, the power to give life a seductive siren's call to his fingertips. He hovered over her, the paddles charged and crackling with a vibrant, blue energy that seemed to resonate with the very essence of her being.

With a swift and precise motion, he placed the paddles on her bare chest, one on the upper right, the other on the lower left, the points of contact sending a shiver of anticipation through his body. "Ready?" he whispered to her unhearing form, the room echoing his question. He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers, willing them to flutter open and reveal the warmth of life.

And then, the shock. The room was filled with the electric scent of ozone as the current surged through her, the power of life and science colliding in a symphony of light and sound. Her body convulsed, the muscles beneath her skin rippling like waves crashing against a shore. The ECG leaped , her heart loudly beating twice as she was frozen, every muscle in her body stiff with shock. They, silence as she immediately went back into her flatline seizures.

With a grunt of frustration, the doctor discarded the paddles and leaned over her, his eyes scanning her body for any sign of response. The woman's chest remained still, the only indication of the tumult within the occasional twitch of a muscle or quiver of a nerve. He knew he had to try again, to push the boundaries of what was possible. His fingers danced over her skin, tracing the path of the veins that led to the very core of her being. He was a sculptor, molding life from the clay of death, and she was his masterpiece.

Suddenly, the doctor's hand stilled as an idea struck him with the force of a lightning bolt. He stepped back to the control panel, his eyes scanning the array of buttons and switches with a newfound sense of purpose. His fingers flew over the controls, recalibrating the defibrillator to deliver a stronger charge, one that would shake the very foundations of existence and demand that she live.

He turned to face her again, his gaze intense, his resolve unshakeable. "This time," he murmured, his voice low and seductive, "you will not disappoint me." He approached the table with the confidence of a conqueror, the paddles once again in his grasp.

Her body lay there, vulnerable and exposed, the only sign of life the tweatching and gentle rise and fall of her chest as the ventilator did the work her lungs could not. He took aim, the paddles poised like a lover's embrace. The air was thick with the anticipation of the impending jolt, the very essence of existence holding its breath.

"Clear!" he barked, the word cutting through the silence like a knife. His thumbs pressed down with the finality of a judge's gavel, unleashing the full fury of the defibrillator into her unyielding flesh. The electricity crackled and danced across her skin, painting a picture of desperate resuscitation in the stark white room. Her body convulsed, the power of the shock resonating through every cell, every atom of her being.

Her legs shot up, the blanket slipping away like a lover's embrace, revealing the full extent of her beauty to his ravenous gaze. The doctor's eyes widened, drinking in the sight of her shapely thighs, the apex of her sex a delicate whisper of shadow between them. Her toes curled and uncurled, as if reaching out to him in a silent invitation. He felt the heat rise in his own body, the pulse in his groin echoing the erratic rhythm of the ECG.

Her heart stuttered, beating twice before falling silent once more, the sound a taunt that spurred him on. He knew he had to act quickly, to capture this fleeting spark of life and coax it into a roaring flame. The doctor's eyes darted to the monitor, the line now a tentative, hopeful curve rather than the flat, unyielding line of before.

"Again," he murmured to himself, the word a command and a prayer. He didn't bother with the paddles this time; instead, he adjusted the defibrillator to deliver a constant, pulsing stream of energy directly into her chest cavity. He watched as her body began to shake, the muscles in her abdomen tightening and releasing in an erratic rhythm that mirrored the pulse of the machine. The electricity flowed through her, a river of life that seemed to pulse in time with his own desperate need.

And then, the moaning began. Low and guttural, it grew in intensity until it filled the room, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to resonate with every beat of her artificially induced heart. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing pools of emerald that seemed to see into his very soul. The doctor felt a jolt of arousal at the sound, his own heart racing in response to the primal call of the woman before him.

With each shock, her breasts would rise and fall, the pink tips of her nipples tightening and releasing in time with the rhythm of the machine. Her legs began to twitch, the muscles in her thighs flexing as if she were riding an unseen lover. The doctor's gaze was transfixed by the sight, his own body responding in kind as he watched the power of science bring her back from the brink.

The woman's moans grew louder, filling the room with a symphony of carnality that seemed to defy the very essence of the medical bay. Her hips rolled, the movement slow and seductive, as if she were lost in the throes of passion rather than the grip of a life-saving procedure. The doctor could feel his own need growing, a beast that threatened to consume him as he watched her come back to life before his very eyes.

He knew he had to maintain focus, to keep the electricity from burning her delicate flesh. With trembling hands, he adjusted the defibrillator, the machine's hum a steady backdrop to their intimate dance. The nanobots, those tiny soldiers of science, were working their magic, burrowing into the very fabric of her heart and mending the damage that had been wrought with each wave of electric fervor charging them.

Suddenly, the rhythmic pulse of the machine ceased, leaving only the echo of her final, gasping moan. Her chest stilled, the soft mounds of her breasts rising and falling with the fading remnants of her breath. The doctor's eyes narrowed, his concentration unbroken as he checked the ECG for any sign of life. But the line remained flat, a cold, unfeeling rejection of all his efforts.

With a growl of determination, he turned to her, his hand moving to her chest with a fiery passion. His palms pressed down with an intensity that was almost savage, the heat of his touch searing through her skin and into her very soul. The woman's breasts jiggled with each compression, the soft mounds seeming to implore him to continue, to give her the spark she needed to live.

The doctor's eyes remained glued to the mesmerizing dance of her chest, his mind racing with thoughts that were no longer purely clinical. The way her flesh yielded to his touch, the tantalizing bounce of her nipples with every press, it was as if he was kneading life back into her very essence. Each compression was a declaration of his desire, a silent promise to conquer the void that had claimed her.

Her breasts, those exquisite mounds of femininity, jiggled with a tantalizing rhythm under his palms, each movement a silent whisper of life's potential. The doctor found himself lost in the symphony of her body's response, his breathing growing shallow as he matched his own pulse to the rhythm of his compressions. It was as if he were conducting an orchestra of desire, each beat a crescendo that brought her closer to the precipice of existence.

The woman's skin grew slick with cold sweat, her body a sculpture of shimmering beauty in the stark light of the medical bay. The doctor's eyes traced the rivulets of moisture that danced down the valleys of her chest, her stomach, and between her legs, pooling in the soft, inviting warmth of her sex. He could feel the heat of her arousal, a scent that mingled with the sterility of the room and filled his nostrils with a heady perfume of desire.

With trembling hands, he raised the defibrillator paddles high above her, the cords snaking around his arms like a serpent ready to strike. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm matching the pulse of the machine, the anticipation of the impending shock a crescendo of passion that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Again," he murmured, his voice thick with the promise of life and the darker, more primal need that had been awakened in him. He brought the paddles down with the force of a lover's embrace, the crack of electricity piercing the silence like the snap of a whip.

Her body arched off the table, a sculpture of need and want, her skin gleaming with cold sweat that made her shine like a diamond in the stark light. The doctor's eyes feasted on the sight, the line between medical necessity and carnality blurring into oblivion. The ECG spasmed once more, the line rising and falling in a desperate quest for life.

The doctor's hand hovered over the defibrillator button, the anticipation palpable. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, the soft mounds of her breasts quivering with each shallow breath, as if begging for his touch. The room was a cocoon of need, the only sound the ragged inhale of his own breath and the erratic beep of the machine that kept her tethered to the world of the living.

With a fierce determination, he delivered another shock, the electricity coursing through her body like a bolt of lightning, illuminating every curve and contour with a fierce blue glow. Her boobs bounced with the force of his will, the tender flesh rippling in a symphony of life and lust. The doctor's eyes were glued to the mesmerizing display, his own breath hitching in his chest as he took in the beauty of her involuntary response.

And then, it happened. The ECG screen flickered, the line jolting upward with the suddenness of a dormant volcano springing to fiery life. The erratic peaks and valleys smoothed into a steady, pulsing wave—finally, the sweet, sweet rhythm of sinus rhythm. The room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, the tension dissipating like a storm cloud after a passionate downpour. The doctor's eyes lit up with triumph, a fierce grin stretching across his face.

Read part two!

[mybworlds]

Chapter 11: Beyond Desolation

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W.C.: 2.5K

Summary: Your life sounds perfect: you live with a perfect man, you live in your dream house, you do the job you love, you don't miss anything, except love and passion.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, reader is a photographer, reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to, unspecified age gap, Joel and reader are two cheaters, for a while. Smut, use of pet names, dirty talk, masturbation, unprotected PiV but the first time, creampies, comeplay, oral (both f and m recieving), exhibitionism, size kink, personal use of an unspecified sex toy. No outbreak here. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N We come to the end of this story and writing the epilogue was not easy because I wanted to give a fair epilogue both to this much hated Joel and to the female protagonist. You probably won't agree with this ending, but I hope I've still entertained and involved you in some way. Thx xxx

Masterlist

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

Taglist @harriedandharassed

“Hey,” he says looking you in the eyes. Even though he hurt your feelings, you can't help but miss a beat.

“Hey,” you say using his same tone. He looks tired, his curly hair is a messy mess as if he's run his hands through it over and over again. There are obvious dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept for days. Despite this, he’s always good looking.

“I'm here to fix the glass.” he tells you.

Your heart is pounding so hard you fear he might hear it.

“I thought you sent someone to do this,” you tell him trying hard to control your voice.

“For a moment I thought it was better to do it this way,” he continues.

Please, remember what he did to you!

“So why did you come?” you ask him.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, silent for a moment. “Sorry, actually.”

You cross your arms regaining control of yourself and the situation, “For what?” Your voice shakes slightly, but you disguise it with a little cough.

“For ruining your life. For not understanding the discomfort I caused you.” His words burn deep inside, your insides seem to tighten painfully. “I said things to you and did things that… were easily misunderstood. I was an asshole.” You nod. “I’m sorry.” He adds again.

“Okay.”

Only then you notice a duffel bag, “I’ll fix the damage my daughter did and then I’ll go away.” he tells you in case you were thinking of something else.

You step aside, letting him in, then close the door. He waits for you to go ahead and lead him, which you do, and then you go into another room.

What does he expect you to say to him? Okay, don't worry, you just broke my heart and destroyed my life, don't worry, these things happen! You’ll never be able to give this answer, even if you simply wanted to help him clear his conscience.

You hear him fiddling in the other room, while you're struggling to work on the computer on the latest shots taken for the Santa Barbara fashion house, you'd like to enhance the clothes in the right way by modifying the light and the contrast, but your mind always takes you there, in the other room.

Damn, he was such an asshole!

You get up from your desk and reach out to him, you don't know how he did it, but he's cut the broken glass and he’s inserting a new one.

You look at him with your arms crossed, he looks up at you from time to time. He probably notices your stiff posture, the embarrassment for the whole situation because he clears his throat now and then.

“Sarah… she… she, well, she made a real mess,” he says, trying to start a conversation with you.

“Uh, uh.” you grumble, walking over to the fridge to get some water. You close your eyes as you hear him cough in embarrassment at not hearing any more words from you.

You drink a couple of glasses of water, then you turn to him and see him working, you notice his focused expression, how he wrinkles his forehead and how a very noticeable wrinkle forms between his eyebrows, at that moment you notice that he’s wearing large work gloves, surely to avoid cutting himself.

At other times you’d have found that expression so absorbed and concentrated incredibly sexy, now you just feel uncomfortable being in his presence. You clench your hands nervously, it’s Joel again speaking to you, “I apologize again for what Sarah did. When I get home…”

“No need.” You interrupt. “You’re repairing the damage, end of story.” You add, your heart pounding in your chest. You bite your lower lip, trying to look out the balcony.

It's been months since you saw him and yet that burning humiliation still hasn't left you. You have always been honest with him, he has been ambiguous and cruel and, best of all, Tess.

“I’ll weld the glass and then I’ll leave,” he informs you.

You hum without looking at him.

“I'm going to get the equipment and be back.” he says, you notice out of the corner of your eye that he’s looking at you, but you don't look back at him at all.

You just want him to go away. It hurts to be with him. And you don't want to feel any more hurt because of him.

A few moments later, he returns. He works in absolute silence, the only noise being the hum of the machinery he uses.

You look up at his face from time to time, you think back to how much you fantasized about him and how with that same face he watched you disintegrate your life and destroy your heart.

“Finished,” he announces.

“Good.” Only then you look him in the eyes. “Thanks. Um… do you want – do you want a glass of water?”

“If it doesn’t bother you.”

You nod, turning your back on him and walking towards the fridge, your hands shaking slightly as you pick up the glass and pour the water. You turn around and he's a couple of steps away from you, his dark eyes looking first at your face and then at your shaking hand as you offer him the glass, he grabs it and, frowning slightly, begins to drink.

You watch his thick fingers grip the glass and his lips press against the glass.

Damn.

He swallows, then asks you, “You okay?”

You decide to be honest, “No. Your very presence hurts me. It makes me feel so bad, Joel.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking a step toward you, but you immediately take a step back.

You shake your head, “No.”

You and him stay at a safe distance, he puts his hands on his hips, he's about to say something, but then thinks better of it and sighs, “You’re right. I was horrible to you. Ours wasn’t supposed to be anything more than sex... I thought we would never get further, but you immediately knew how to make me lower my guard and helped me bring out things that until that moment I had kept to myself.” he looks you in the eyes, he seems really sorry “I was wrong to do it because I let you into my life and that made you somehow involved in my private sphere. It’s not your fault.” he punctuates the last words, you look up at him again “I was the one who made the mistake with you. I had ambiguous attitudes and.. I shouldn't have told you all those things, I - I..."

He’s in trouble, you see it, so you decide to intervene by telling him “Don’t be afraid. Got it. Thanks to you I realized that love and any kind of relationship are a scam.” you say feeling a lump in your throat and understanding how bitter your words are and how much this truth you just confessed to him hurt you because Joel has given you such a disappointment that you know will prevent you from trusting someone else completely as you’ve done with him or in the past “I’ve become a heartless bitch like you. Thanks.” you say melancholically, looking him straight in the eyes and crossing your arms. “But unlike you, I won’t be able to use others just for a little pleasure.”

His eyes become even darker and more serious, subtly sad. “You’ll never be like me.” He pauses. “I’d never wish that on you. I hope that one day you find love and that you find someone who believes in it just like you do.”

You shake your head slowly, “You know, the last few times we were together, I thought that…” you huff a little, suppressing the lump in your throat and trying to control your voice “I thought we were making love, I was so sure of it.” you sigh finding it difficult to confess everything to him, but you have to say it, “I thought there was no need to say those three words because I thought that certain attitudes and care towards each other were enough.” your eyes sting “Think how stupid I was!”

“I'm sorry,” he says, lowering his head and staring at the empty glass in his hands.

“Is that all you can say?” you see him tighten his fingers even more tightly around the cup “You once told me that you are afraid of commitment and.. and I understand that, I accept that, but when you realized that you were becoming important to me, why didn’t you..?” you sigh “When you realized how much you meant to me, you immediately walked away and moved on to the next one, Tess.” you add by telling him everything that was in your head and that for a while you had managed to keep aside and not think about it.

You feel better because you have given voice to everything that hurt you about his manners.

Joel purses his lips, “Tess..” he whispers her name, then looks at you “I tried to start what I had done in the past and then with you.. I tried to.. to be with her, y’ know,” your heart is beating furiously in your chest, you don't want to hear certain things, but you imagine you have no choice “but, I froze.”

“Should I care or feel sorry for you now?” you ask him acidly, shaking your head slowly.

“No, but I just wanted you to know that there’s nothing left between me and Tess. I repeat, I tried, but… I thought about the pain I caused you and so I thought I didn't want to hurt anyone else.”

“So you reserved the podium for me for having torn my heart out!” you exclaim, you huff taking the glass from his hands “You know what? It’s okay.” you blurt out putting the glass in the sink “Thanks for telling me. Thanks for making your position clear on this.” you pause for a moment “I sincerely thank you for just one thing,” he looks at you curiously “Thank you for making me understand that I wasn’t happy with Patrick.” he lowers his gaze as if struck by a sudden sense of guilt “He deserved better? Yes. Me? Fuck, yes. You?” you take a long pause, your almost angry tone fades to become softer “You too.” only then does he look up while maintaining an almost unreadable expression “I loved you, it's true, but then I also hated you. But now that I see you... I don't feel hate, only... bitterness and pity.” You find yourself swallowing and almost suddenly you feel better and the lump in your throat seems to slowly dissolve.

“Ever since my ex-wife left me accusing me of only thinking about work, I told myself that I would never let anyone else into my heart, ever again. In the end, who lost out? Me.” A long, heavy silence follows. The man who seemed so sexy and confident to you and then so cruel, now seems to have decided to show his true self.

“I’m sorry you’ve built this horrible mask because you’ve forbidden whoever she is to know you. You’ve made yourself miserable.” you sigh, deciding not to take it any further.

“I think we have now been truly sincere.” he mutters under his breath, you find yourself nodding faintly, having agreed with him after so long, “Do you have any whiskey by any chance?”

“Sure.”

You pour the distillate into the glass and hand it to him. You see him sigh heavily before taking a big sip.

“We'll be fine,” you tell him, offering him a friendly look. He nods, giving you a quick glance before taking the last sip.

You don't say anything else, but for now it's enough for you. You feel more serene and you know that from today on it will probably be better, you were stuck in that limbo where Joel Miller himself had pushed you.

You greet each other with a handshake and a long, silent look. You don't know if you'll see each other again one day, if you'll talk to each other or if you'll pretend not to know each other again, or if you decide to start something again that will last this time, what you know is that you can now forgive him and let him go.

Now your life can begin again...

[heliianth]

on Killua, projection, and spectrophobia

This post is sort of a sequel to this answer I gave an asker, wherein I said that an overarching theme in Killua's ability to situate himself and understand the world around him is constant social categorization. It's also a very direct extension of this post about how he sees Nanika in relation to his own self-perception and the way in which he treats her as a result of projection.

Originally that second post was actually meant to be the ultimate conclusion to this one (i've been sitting on this draft for close to a year atp). So it's a little embarrassing to post this without it as a closer—this feels unfinished as a result—but I'll link it in the relevant section where it should've been read anyway, and you can take it or leave it. If you do read it and see parts I paraphrased or directly copy-pasted from very early points in this meta, that's why lol. I'm lazy and didn't want to rewrite thoughts I had already articulated in my notes app, nor did I want to leave the anon hanging for however long it would take to polish this up.

Eli, this is long as fuck. Why do you care this much?

Well, why does anyone care about anything? I like yapping. This is the yapping website. Take this as your warning that this is going to be LENGTHY, btw

But the main reason I started thinking about this and writing it down so long ago is the pervasive perception within the fandom that Killua is very logical, and that this demeanor of his is a deliberate contrast to Gon’s impulsivity, reliance on instinct, and tendency to operate based on emotion. This makes the audience trust his word even when everything surrounding him is working to tell you he’s an unreliable source of narration, including the aloof overpowered rival-deuteragonist archetype he’s subverting, which people seem to recognize in every other way but this for some reason. His family directly spells out to the audience that he’s way too emotional and volatile to be considered perfect, despite the golden child gambit—

—and while the Zoldycks are all stinky fucking liars as far as whether the audience should trust them or not, I do think they know what they’re talking about in terms of suitability to be an assassin. And Zeno is ostensibly supposed to be the "sane one," regardless of how you feel about that.

Even so, I think that it’s a really easily digestible and also not unpopular view here on tumblr to acknowledge that not only is Killua very often illogical, he’s also not less emotional than Gon just because he tends to analyze more information before making a decision. It’s not a hot take to say that Killua POV Syndrome is the source of a lot of mischaracterization for both of them and their relationship. Still, I rarely see anyone talk about the specific ways in which he’s illogical, identify an underlying pattern between each instance, and connect it to his arc and the very unsubtle metaphors that punctuate it as a whole. So that’s kind of what I’m aiming for here, just to present my ideas in one place so I don’t have to keep chunking them into different responses to asks.

So. 5 topics.

Projection (clarification)

Killua's Reflection

The Outlier: Gon

The In-group

The Mirror: Alluka and Nanika

1. Projection

Projection is a term I think people are well acquainted with, but I still feel the need to define it so we’re all on the same page. It’s been in the periphery of the therapy speak epidemic that’s been happening for a while now, and I want it to be clear what we’re actually talking about.

In it’s most simple form, projection is the process of attributing one’s own traits or emotions to another. This is the most common way I’m going to be using the word, but there are other relevant intricacies:

Originally, it was conceived as a way of ego defense and emotional suppression or denial. For example, the first formally documented case of projection was in a 1895 letter in which Sigmund Freud described a woman who was avoiding confronting feelings of shame by insisting that neighbors were gossiping unjustly behind her back. This form wherein the person projecting recognizes an emotion or action as condemnable in themself but is unwilling to reflect on it, and then attributes that same trait to someone else so it is “safe” to judge, remains the more popular conception of projection. Freud is a whole can of worms and me referencing him is supposed to be more of a history lesson than a concession of legitimacy. And in terms of talking about projection, I do think the type he describes exists and I do think it’s useful for the purposes of this post to use his name in reference to it.

Contemporarily, projection is understood more benignly as being a part of theory of mind (the ability to parse the intentions and mental states of other people separately from one’s own). This type has many different forms which manifest healthily during stages of psychological development or interaction, such as a child learning to perform empathy by recognizing and interpreting familiar experiences or expressions in others. That specific process, however, is more often referred to as mentalization, wherein “…there is little distortion of the other person’s mind because there is no automatic equation of it with the mind of the observer..." though it is still considered a form of projection because it requires using your own experiences to determine that of another.

All of these definitions are relevant because Killua does all three. He imposes his own traits onto other people even if it’s not necessarily warranted, projects the judgement of his shameful aspects onto those around him to avoid confronting them (Freudian), and uses his own experiences to mentalize with targets chosen based on his own self-perception.

2. Killua’s Reflection

I’m sure everyone interested enough in Hunter x Hunter to be reading metas on it already knows about Killua’s shit self-esteem and where it comes from. It’s something that doesn’t really need to be restated. Nonetheless, I feel an aspect of it is necessary for what I want to say.

A lot of Killua’s emotional conflicts within the story stem from a desperate need to disprove what Illumi said to him in the exchange that disqualified him from the first arc's exam.

At this point Killua has actually seen and experienced things that contradict what Illumi is saying. But in this case, even with all of these new experiences and people on his side, Killua finds he can’t disagree with his big brother. After all, it’s backed up by some pretty irrefutable proof—more than Killua has.

For example, Killua’s reaction to Gon being completely unbothered in this conversation…

Alternate translation from the 2011 anime is: "That's weird... People only like me because they can't ever tell whether I'm serious." (Viz is my worst enemy for early HxH and should be yours too)

…corroborates 2 things:

Killua has approached people (outside of the Zoldyck estate) in the past, whether to be friends or to cure boredom

Upon being told about his family, these people either reacted poorly or with disbelief. Then he was ostracized or became disinterested

Killua doesn’t seem too bothered by this all things considered, and that’s because it reinforces his family’s emotional isolation, so it’s expected and he has no reason to think it's abnormal or worry over it. Killua is told he’s incapable of friendship because of who he is and how he was raised, and then every relationship he has ends before it can begin precisely because of those reasons. From his perspective, his family are objectively correct. Every time Killua talks to anyone, he may as well be proving that gravity eventually makes things fall down. He just kept trying because he was that desperate for friends who liked HIM, not his cute kid routine.

What his family have done is effectively created a rigid in-group that defines Killua and his capacity for interaction outside of that group. This has overlap with the typical notion of “out-group bias” which, when you google it, specifically brings up the mechanisms of bigotry. I’m referring to it in the more neutral tone associated with social identity theory, which has to do with socially assigned and defined traits valued via comparison (often moral comparison), and the desire to belong to an identity group that is valued positively by the majority.

The funny thing about the Zoldycks is that they do seem to teach their kids to some extent that murder is wrong and will be perceived as wrong by the out-group. But at the same time, a caveat is created: the reason why the in-group (their family) can and should engage in it is because it is in their nature. Asking Zoldycks not to murder is like asking a cat not to meow; they can do it simultaneously because of the family’s value-specific superiority and their moral inferiority—that they're good at what they do and inherently bad at what everyone else does. “We are the only ones who could ever love or understand you, you don’t need Them.” Not only is it isolating, it’s dehumanizing, and something like this is a classic tactic used to trap people.

Doesn’t work on Killua though! He swings in a counterintuitive direction by wanting acceptance from the out-group instead of withdrawing back to his safe, rejection-free in-group. I think that has to do with the fact that he’s also othered from that in-group in some manner.

Killua is part of the family, yet he’s the golden child. As of present, the entire operation revolves around him. He’s shown blatant favoritism: Illumi and Kikyo are obsessed with him, Zeno justifies preferential treatment when called on it, Silva is very lenient with him, and the butlers we’ve seen seem to all have some preference as well. The rest of his siblings may as well be invisible while he’s around. He’s not just a Zoldyck, he’s the heir. And with the amount of control exerted over him because of it, there’s an easy connection to make that being the family’s pet prodigy had a big hand in crafting Killua’s oppositional personality.

So funnily enough, by singling him out, the Zoldycks kind of guaranteed that Killua would start to suspect that he’s not actually a part of their in-group—fueling his desire to be normal (read: actually belong somewhere) and turn his search outward. Their tradition got too big and began cannibalizing itself. Put a pin in this because we’re returning to it later.

Going back to what Illumi actually said to Killua, during the fourth phase Killua both compares himself with Gon:

…and is absolutely baffled by the fight’s turn:

…which are things Illumi addresses—that one day, Killua will start evaluating Gon as an opponent, and that Gon confuses him. Though he’s using these to gaslight him into doubting his own emotions and desires, what Illumi says is all true to Killua.

Gon does confuse him because, unlike every other social interaction he’s ever had, Gon doesn’t reinforce what his family has said to him. Gon is not considered “the out-group” by Killua; he does not behave in the way Killua has seen and was taught the out-group behaves, so he must not have their same values. Most importantly, he likes Killua for who he is as an individual, not his proficiency at the things valued by his in-group, which makes him feel like an actual person and like he could potentially belong somewhere. Gon is dismantling the mechanisms of Killua’s abuse by… basically just being a silly little guy. And though obviously Killua isn’t aware of that specifically, he does feel it’s effects.

So when Illumi pops up and basically goes “Yeah, all that is a fluke. An outlier. I know how you think, this is what you were just doing, and you’re deluding yourself,” Killua has no argument because Gon is an outlier; the one person that’s not part of the out-group or the in-group.

And then Illumi goes and puts the final nail in the coffin by forcing him to surrender, thereby allowing Gon to die and "proving" him right in that he's incapable of connection. So he does what’s expected of a murderer then goes home.

Of course, Gon storms the castle anyway, but this exchange still haunts Killua. He believes Illumi is still right. There is still the in-group, the outgroup, and Gon.

This is the kind of thinking that Killua brings into every relationship he has and, despite wanting so badly to prove Illumi wrong, he uses these preconceptions in order to side step actually confronting it. Killua doesn’t like thinking about the possibility of Illumi being correct. He doesn’t want to; he gets genuinely upset, sometimes angry, when reminded of it (think his outburst with Nobunaga in Yorknew), and it’s hard for him to engage with the idea when it comes up. But proving Illumi wrong in any substantial manner would mean thinking about it.

Similarly to Gon assigning Killua the role of “the cool-headed one who keeps me in check,” Killua takes Illumi’s evaluations of their relationship and twists them into something he can operate off of. In his head, he’s assigned Gon the role of “the outlier" which Illumi described, but views Gon’s uniqueness optimistically instead of misanthropically. As a result, Killua ends up pouring his self-worth into being useful to Gon. He doesn’t really know how else to get people to want him around, and as long as Gon is around, Illumi is wrong.

Though Killua is doing this in order to prove so, he’s not actually fully rejecting Illumi—it’s very psychologically shallow because the foundation of it still relies on Illumi’s assessments. Doing this lets Killua avoid having to do overwhelming hard work in either self-evaluation or examination of his upbringing—ironically reinforcing what Illumi wants, which is to constantly run away from problems he can’t handle.

When I say Killua is avoiding having to do hard work on reflection, I don’t mean that in a negative way. Actually deconstructing all this would take years of grueling emotional labor to do, and Killua is a child. So instead, he applies this faulty worldview in ways that make him happy, and that’s better than nothing. There’s genuinely no other option for him at this point in the story and it would obviously be silly to condemn him for it.

This is the basis of his projection; a habitual avoidance of confronting difficult emotions or ideas and an application of traits onto people regardless of fitness to reinforce it—loosely Freudian. It’s because of this that the the reoccurring motif of often literal fight or flight is so important to Killua’s character and is so deeply entrenched in his development, beyond the physical prowess to defeat strong opponents or even just growing out of being an assassin. It's a metaphor for him learning to start actually unpacking his abuse.

3. The Outlier: Gon

Because the way he perceives himself has been molded by alienation, Killua has some difficulty mentalizing with people he sees as belonging to an out-group—instead relying on analysis and pattern recognition to mimic that function and compensate. This usually works out for him because he’s a smart kid, but not always, especially when there’s no pre-established pattern (such as that time he thinks himself into a hole during the Greed Island player selection process).

There are a few examples of Killua’s difficulty to mentalize with people he’s already decided are unlike him, but a lot of them can be simultaneously attributed to apathy or practicality, so I don’t want to say anything definitive. In that same vein, Killua also seems to have a rough time getting along with peers and certain authority figures in general, which is a result of many intersecting things, some having to do with projection—for example, I’m reasonably certain his difficulties with older women come from family misogyny and his own disdain for his mother—and some not.

Despite these varying reasons, I feel confident in saying mentalizing with assigned out-groups is something Killua struggles with because Gon, the person he spends most of the series glued at the hip with, is the single biggest example and indication of it.

As mentioned, Gon confuses the hell out of Killua at first. This subsides as the series goes on—he begins to understand Gon very well behaviorally, enough to accurately predict and describe him—but it returns in the Chimera Ant Arc when Gon’s previously reliable patterns start to shift and Killua has no idea how to deal with it. This gulf of dark and light he’s invented between them causes Killua to simultaneously project heavily onto Gon and understand him as someone so alien that he often completely misses Gon’s greater motivations (and cannot actually internalize his affections, though that’s not unique to the ant arc).

His perception of Gon is so wrapped in his perception of himself that arguably one of Killua’s most dramatic and iconic little internal monologues (“you are light”) occurs right after an emotional low point where he’s obviously feeling guilty and wondering whether he’s capable of performing his assigned role in their friendship, then is urged to no longer think about it (avoidance).

To make matters more obvious, Killua’s vocabulary in the “you are light” declaration is even ripped directly out of Illumi’s mouth (眩しすぎて, translated by Viz as “radiant” from Illumi then again as “too bright” during this scene). Killua idolizes Gon as being this brilliant outlier and relies on him as a key part of his psychological avoidance—not at all even considering whether this fundamental idea, which is borrowed from and agrees with Illumi, is wrong on its own.

In the CAA, Killua is constantly having these beliefs he’s trying to dodge nailed in not only by the adults around him but also his own actions. And, when Bisky confronts him with (what he hears as) the possibility that Gon’s mere presence isn’t enough to prove Illumi wrong and Killua will end up essentially killing him regardless, he becomes resigned to the idea that he is unfixable up until he rips that needle out of his brain.

Removing Illumi’s needle results in a high point for his esteem primarily because it forced Killua to actually linger and, again, think about Illumi and his abuse. It was a huge confrontation both physically and mentally, he did it by himself without any of his psychological crutches, and coming out on top built his confidence to the point where his mood/behavior changed enough for Gon to notice. But it didn’t erase his unease about their relationship.

As Killua begins to feel less stable in his self-appointed roles, Gon also starts to break down and starts prioritizing revenge on Pitou. Alone. And this makes Killua also feel less stable in Gon’s role as the outlier. Similarly to the woman who invents gossiping neighbors to avoid addressing shame, Killua invents judgement from his best friend to internally avoid addressing his internalized alienation. He ends up worrying that Gon will ostracize him and assuming the worst, when previously he thought he'd be the only one who wouldn't do that. He becomes hyper-observant of any possible rejection.

And he’s not worried about moral rejection like he used to be! Because when Palm is introduced, it becomes evident that the rejection Killua is worried about is revealed to be his emotional value to Gon. Whether Killua is as important to Gon as Gon is important to Killua—whether his feelings, romantic or otherwise, are reciprocated.

Then with Palm, these insecurities take the form of pretty stereotypical projection in the form of jealousy and cattiness, even after the whole dating thing is finished…

…and leads to his meltdown right in front of her, during which the narrative acknowledges and makes him finally voice these insecurities.

Like, when Gon says “Let’s go,” Killua immediately spirals into worrying what Gon means by it in terms of his value. Whether they are “just teammates” or something more.

And when Gon tells Killua “This has nothing to do with you,” he can verbally acknowledge that Gon is not being deliberately nasty, but it still hits him like a truck anyway. His true understanding of the situation, regardless of what he thinks logically, is that he is being ejected from their friendship—that Killua, who defines his personhood according to the roles assigned by both himself and Gon, is no longer wanted and no longer belongs anywhere.

A sign of disordered or delayed ability to mentalize in a child—appropriately, due to abuse or atypical attachment—is not being able to separate their own reaction from the intentions of their caregiver during a reprimand or some similar interaction. This is relevant in that Killua has placed Gon into a position with an inordinate (and frankly unfair) amount of emotional authority upon which he’s reliant for comfort and affirmation. Killua’s theory of mind is impaired in relation to Gon not only as is normal due to strong emotions, but also his projecting onto what Gon thinks, which is a result of othering himself from him.

4. The In-group

I think the above is… fairly obvious, and also a super unoriginal observation. But it’s made rhetorically useful by it’s converse: the fact that Killua has a really easy time mentalizing with people that are inhuman, whether morally or literally. I’ll rapid-fire a few examples because they’re pretty self-explanatory…

Killua recognizes Hisoka’s intentions because “[he’s] like him”.

More Hisoka parallels, this time including Gon

(I’m convinced a lot of these are with Hisoka because Togashi still wanted us to hang onto the abundance of “Killua will turn heel” red herrings in the early story. Small tangent, but during the exam Togashi loved to separate Killua from Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio in various ways, often physically, in part to encourage the audience to other him so that these red herrings would be extremely prominent even during Heaven’s Arena. But I think a Watsonian analysis is also fitting)

This one is shakier because it’s primarily an ethical debate which Gon and Bisky chime in on as well, but I thought it was good to include as part of a broader pattern since he specifically brings up moral values and how they define in-groups.

Killua empathizes with Ikalgo right after being willing to murder him lmfao. It's notable the way in which he starts checking around this time if the ants/people he's fighting are douchebags or not (do they have the right social identity or not?), which seemingly justifies killing them.

(I think it’s really interesting that the upper page centers Killua’s hands during the setup for a realization about Meruem hurting himself for the sake of a “special someone." It's like Killua's equivalent to Gon's "[You'd hurt yourself] when... you can't forgive yourself.")

The reason why this occurs has to do with the defined social identities created by his family and the immediate biases/prejudices associated with them. Because of how Killua has dehumanized himself in accordance with these traits, he is pre-disposed to extending understanding—whether that be actual compassion or simple insight—toward characters who are othered as monstrous in-universe (and by the audience, where it’s used as a narrative tool by Togashi) because these experiences of being alienated from the vast majority are most familiar and sensical to him.

This becomes pretty obvious to me when you take into account that Killua’s only friends other than Gon, Leorio, and Kurapika—or at least the only other people he actually calls his friends—are chimera ants (and, in the case of Palm, she was very much ostracized even when she was a human including by Killua himself). Characters like these are relatable and make someone part of an in-group, whether he likes it or not.

On that last point, I want to bring up this observation and comment made by him…

…because while this observation from Killua comes about naturally due to Pitou’s behavior during this confrontation, the comment about protecting not being in their nature sticks out to me as somewhat uncharacteristic. It feels distinctly very emotionally charged in the midst of a scene where Killua is deliberately trying to remain calm and impartial for the sake of Gon (exercizing the role Gon gave to him).

Part of this is definitely because Pitou has been symbolized to these kids for what they did to Kite, but Pitou also has a LOT of parallels with Killua as a result of them both being intrinsically intertwined with the questions of nature Togashi brings up in Hunter x Hunter. Killua is “by nature a murderer,” Pitou is “by nature incapable [of this action]”; I believe they are very deliberate foils, so it’s interesting to hear Killua think things about Pitou that Illumi once said to him.

It’s also worthwhile to note that the role Pitou was born into and the role Killua gives himself are essentially the same, Guard, and that Meruem and Gon mean similar things to them (of course, there is the “light that illuminates all”/“you are light” comparison, but more abstractly, both Meruem and Gon represent the Ants’/Killua’s potential for expansion/evolution—in the food chain and in life/purpose respectively—and are protected as such). They also abide by this role with almost the exact same amount of devotion; we see this in the way Pitou crying over being trusted with something so important to Meruem (healing Komugi) is a parallel to how Killua was so impacted by being relied upon for an important task to Gon (holding the dodgeball).

Killua definitely doesn’t consider any similarities consciously the way he does with Hisoka, Ikalgo, or through mentalization with Meruem, but when he is thinking this of Pitou, he’s looking at a narrative foil, which I find telling. I think it’s a very classic case of Freudian projection.

5. The Mirror: Alluka and Nanika

All this brings me to what I want to talk at length about, which I suppose you can already guess because I gave it away in the section heading.

Killua’s relationship with his sisters has always been fascinating to me because they’re probably the only people in the world he would genuinely consider as sharing his precise in-group. Not just the Zoldyck family in-group, but the Killua in-group. And it really effects the way he thinks during the Election Arc.

I’ve tried my best to neatly separate Alluka and Nanika into their own sections, but it’s still going to be sorta all over the place (moreso than this analysis already is) mostly because right now Killua still hasn’t totally figured out that Alluka and Nanika are basically two whole different people. He’s certainly much closer to that than the rest of his family considering he actually makes a distinction between them, but he’s still not treating Nanika like an individual at this point in the story. And that’s super important to the way he projects onto them, so it’s going to be a little messy. Sorry in advance

Alluka

Remember that pin I told you to save for later? Now is later.

Alluka and Nanika sit at the table with Killua in being othered not only by the defined out-group (due to just being a Zoldyck), but by the people who were supposed to be The In-group™ in the first place: his family. Of course, Alluka’s situation is very different and accelerated faster than a racecar the second Nanika stopped being a secret, but evidently she was kept secret for a reason. Killua was already extremely astute even at the age when these events were happening, and probably assessed (accurately) that there would be huge drama if Nanika were ever discovered; he even went so far as to keep hiding things about how her powers worked long after the gig was up. It would be kind of stating the obvious to say someone who does all that isn’t someone who considers his sister(s) normal according to in-group standards. Otherwise there wouldn’t have been a secret at all.

The reason why Killua got along with his sister(s) so well pre-lockup and pre-needle was most likely because he was already being socially separated from his siblings as the family heir. He then took comfort from Alluka in knowing he wasn’t the only “weird” one, even if no one but him knew that yet, and projected onto her (making decisions about Nanika for her that reflect his own wishes—to keep her secret so that no one would treat her differently)

It’s partially this same projection (i say partially because it’s also, like, basic compassion) that makes Killua so mad when Alluka is outright excluded—not just symbolically, but legitimately—from the family.

He himself strives desperately to be “normal”/belong somewhere, and that ‘somewhere’ includes his own family, though at this point he obviously has more complicated emotions about it. He wants to be understood and accepted by them without being smothered—even Illumi, when he tests Killua to make a wish that would kill him, is included in this desire. In Killua’s ideal world, the Zoldycks would be on good terms with each other and act “normal”; a fantasy from a childhood whose corpse he still drags around because he doesn’t recognize that he’s been abused beyond being helicoptered and needled. Alluka herself shares this:

It’s one more thing they have in common. And, like he does when Illumi spoke in his head during Yorknew or when he said he didn’t actually want anything during the Exam, Killua gets angry when this fantasy is denied. He becomes confrontational in a way he usually wouldn’t otherwise.

I feel it’s notable that Killua does not contradict Alluka’s idea that if she were gone, everyone would get along more. Not because I think he believes it, but because I think he also doesn’t know the answer. So instead, he pivots into comforting her another way. And crucially, it’s by using something he can understand: that there is a special outlier who loves her even if she doesn’t belong anywhere, and as long as they’re together she doesn’t have to worry about it.

Cool. All that’s pretty easy to get. But it gets more complicated, because it always does.

When Killua returns for Alluka, he returns because he needs to save Gon. And with Gon comes all the baggage associated with him.

Despite the deconstruction of the dark/light dichotomy with him during the CAA, Killua remains identified with a ‘nonhuman’-aligned in-group only he belongs to, and continues judging himself accordingly. It’s a position that still puts a wall of glass between him and the majority out-group, and leaves him uncomfortably othered in the Zoldyck in-group. Gon was the all-important, miraculous outlier that made him be able to live with it, the one person that made him feel like he belonged somewhere even if it wasn’t on the basis of being in the same moral in-group. The exception to the rule of ostracization. But he knows better now. And while that’s really good progress because it begins to demystify Gon (who deserves to be understood), it leaves him in a very fragile state when confronting his family because that role was a lynchpin for upholding the psychological anti-Illumi safety net he built after the Hunter Exam.

Ultimately, this leaves Killua in a situation where his sisters can uniquely reaffirm this unhealthy superego because he can project onto them in ways he can’t with anyone else.

By saddling himself with the lone responsibility to heal Gon as a way to atone for failing to perform his role—an insecurity magnified by “this has nothing to do with you”—Killua is paralleling Gon’s guilt complex to a degree (as he does throughout the entire story, but it feels especially prominent here). Where they differ is that Gon’s apology and the validation of his emotions Killua will get from that is the relief from guilt he seeks, not the self-destruction Gon does.

In Killua’s head, they both failed their roles in their friendship—Killua didn’t end up being of any use to Gon in the end, and Gon ended up ostracizing Killua—so Killua vows to do his part again as long as Gon does so as well.

In a way, this is him acknowledging both his emotional understanding and his logical understanding of that exchange in the palace—that Gon didn’t mean what he said and did (thereby expecting him to apologize), but it still hurt him (he wants an apology anyway). This apology isn’t about blaming Gon for what he did or even really holding him responsible—which is why he can tease him lightheartedly about it later—it’s more about Killua’s own emotions. He’s standing up for himself! Which is an indication of a maturing theory of mind.

Some people read this panel with an undercurrent of Killua meaning this will be the last time he helps Gon in this way—and I understand where that comes from due to the fact that they separate afterward, and don’t really have an objective counterargument. So take this next part with a grain of salt, but I really don’t think that’s true. Killua isn’t the type to do that… I don’t even think it’s in his brain to separate from Gon right now. This is just Killua deciding that he needs to start laying down boundaries and paying attention to what he really wants in their relationship outside of being useful. It’s an out-loud admission of how deeply he cares, to the point where he can no longer wholly process or justify it as a transaction, as he does with most forms of love for self-evident reasons. It’s the beginnings of him learning about unconditionality. This is a huge step.

So…. where does it sour?

Well, Killua is faced with a similar sort of guilt brought on by role-failure (the role being “big brother”) when he comes to retrieve Alluka…

Whether you believe “Was it because Illumi was manipulating me?” is Togashi giving the audience a hint or this line being pure in-universe speculation, it doesn’t quite matter, because Killua feels the same about it at the end of the day: guilt and shame.

Though he apologizes to Alluka for this and she readily accepts it, it’s obvious these feelings continue to gnaw at him throughout the entire arc. It retroactively chips down the work he did back at the hospital, since they are the same emotion with similar catalysts.

I say this because I feel like you can infer that his guilt over these two separate but similar things bleeds together by the way Killua, when talking to himself, tends to refer to the two ‘savings’ in conjunction. You could totally say I’m onto nothing because one is a result of the other so no shit they’re related, but I think it’s significant to this discussion.

Specifically the last exchange also serves as a way for Killua to verbally reassure Alluka of her importance to him. The fact that he thinks this is necessary also shows to me that, again, he’s still feeling guilty for it, even though Alluka never indicates that she holds it against him. These panels further reaffirm this belief of mine:

…because Killua is planning to permanently put Nanika to sleep so that Alluka can “spend more time with him” (in the words she herself uses when complaining about it), which indicates that, again, it is something he feels horrible for—and that he sees Nanika in a very particular way which assigns fault to her that doesn’t quite exist, but we’ll get to it soon.

What I’m trying to say here is that because saving Alluka is inseparable from saving Gon, so too becomes the magnified things he feels over not being able to do either of these things beforehand. So successfully defending Alluka becomes way for him to relieve this now-compounded guilt and reassure himself that he’s still capable of fulfilling his self-assigned roles. If he can do that, he can still belong somewhere. He’ll still be worthy of love.

To summarize, Killua not only related to Alluka when she was young—making her very easy to project onto—but also the situation calls for Killua to see her as an extension of his best friend, which only rubs salt into the wound and serves to make him more irrational about it since Killua is still seeking redemption and reparation for the breakdown in the CAA.

Considering all the progress Killua has made, this is a relatively hard relapse. It makes sense, though; just look at what’s happening! Illumi has been the main catalyst for all this agonizing, the person whose assessments he’s developed a pathological need to simultaneously prove wrong and also avoid thinking about altogether. Now he’s got to stare that person in the face with everything on the line and tell him to fuck off.

This is the needle yank prelude on steroids for Killua—a magnification of that time when he was constantly teetering on the edge of ditching and clinging to Gon based on how useful he saw himself. Back then, when Bisky pointed out that he was putting Gon in danger, he decided that he had to leave. So, when his brother uses Nanika to put Alluka in danger, Killua decides Nanika has to leave. For a little while, Illumi becomes unconquerable again, and Killua regresses back into running away.

Nanika

This is where I leave you with this post to read as the conclusion. The readmore is actually pretty relevant, whereas it wasn't when I was answering the anon. Underwhelming, I know. Whatever man.

I really am sorry for how long it is. Tumblr yelled at me 5 times about the image limit, I had to improvise. Being super succinct without leaving out everything I want to say is a skill I do not have. Regardless, thanks for reading and hopefully this was at least a little interesting!

[bellestarot]

Quick Tarot Celeb Readings IX

June 06, 2025

Some questions are straightforward and require less time to answer. That's why I created this to make it easier.

🌞 "About ateez, do you see their enlistment happening soon or more far, like in 2 3 years?"

🌹One member is strongly considering enlisting, especially with the numbers 4 and 8 showing significance — possibly indicating 4 months or 4 years.

🌞 "Can you see if there’s a very high chance, a high possibility, of a member of 127 leaving sm? If so, how will be their future? Like exo or they will keep having the same comebacks as now?"

🌹Honestly, I don’t see them leaving the company anytime soon. Even though things are difficult, they’re likely to stay for now. Of course, that could change later.

🌞 "Does bts jungkook feel over sexualized ; it's not uncommon thar young members are pushed in almost festishization light ; (contrast on being sexy and cute) is bts jungkook concious of his early sexualization? What does he think and bts members?"

🌹Jungkook doesn’t feel sexualized; what bothers him more is people projecting a false personality onto him — assuming he acts or is a certain way when he’s not.

BTS, especially when he was younger, worried more about his emotional well-being and pressure to please everyone.

🌞"Is there something between Le sserafim Sakura and Enhypen Sunghoon? Thank you"

🌹There’s a deep spiritual connection between them — maybe soulmates or soul-connected. It was like a sudden recognition that caused confusion, fear, and emotional turmoil.

She’s going through a spiritual awakening and holding in a lot of anxiety. Though they’re not physically close, the connection remains. Both are avoiding it for now.

🌞 "Hi Belle, I just wanted to thank you for reading my requests... I wanted to know if Rose has any friendships with any members of SVT, like what is her relationship with Seventeen please?"

🌹She’s very close to two members in particular, offering strong support to them and the group. She’s actively involved, always streaming their music, and has a very positive, encouraging presence.

She’s friends with one guy around her age, who is creative, grounded, successful, and more serious — qualities she admires. She’s also close to a younger guy who helps her let go of self-judgment. They talk openly about fears and personal growth, and they seem to have a lot of fun together.

🌞 "How do you see bts fame and buzz going as soon as all of them are “free” from the army?"

🌹A lot of growth, popularity, and abundance.

🌞 "Are any of itzy girls in a serious relationship right now?"

🌹Two members’ love lives are currently complicated. One regrets turning down a relationship offer and feels she didn’t communicate well.

The other is going through a breakup, asking for space from a partner she finds too immature — possibly an air sign (Gemini, Libra, or Aquarius).

🌞 "Other than San, Wooyoung, Mingi and Seonghwa, do you see any fashion brand deal or smothering like that for other ateez member soon?"

🌹I don’t see it happening soon, maybe later on.

🌞 "Hi, can u please do a reading for blackpink Jisoo’s upcoming Netflix drama “boyfriend on demand”, will this drama achieve success internationally? Will she gain more success and popularity after this drama ?"

🌹Yes, for sure. The male lead acting alongside her in an upcoming drama will also gain fame. She’ll be very anxious at first but the drama will be a major international success. However, she’ll feel she’s making a painful personal sacrifice.

🌞 "Can you do a reading whether there is a chance for any bts members to not continue signing with bighit/hybe"

🌹I don’t see them leaving the company soon. It aligns with their current goals and feels like a comfort zone. In the future, a younger member with fire in his chart might leave, but not just yet.

🌞 "Is there any type of connection between Jennie and Charles Melton?"

🌹No, they don’t have any connection or communication.

🌞"Will V and Jennie reconnect in the future or whatever they had it’s really over and that’s it?"

🌹I don’t think they’ll reconnect — both are going through changes that will move them further apart.

🌞 "Can you see the relantioship between krystal and kai?"

🌹As of now, they have no connection or contact, though I did a reading on them before — it was my first one. Go check!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍒ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[arthur-lesters-spinal-cord]

Theory as to why Kayne is like that

This requires the knowledge of two main assumptions I have made about the dark world.

Firstly, the assumption that the dark world is a place that is connected to all realities. Not just the one Arthur and John came from originally or the one with Castle Kerringford. This means the dark world is the end point for all realities.

Secondly, that the corrupting power of the dark world is the effect of all versions of a person being compressed into one body/being (alongside the stressor that is the dark world itself). This effect creates a person who is not just one person but a combination the thousands of different versions of themselves mixed into one body. It could be argued that this is an entirely new person that exists only as a result of this merging of all alternate identities. This new person is still linked to each original version of themselves but has fundamentally changed due to all the different and sometimes contrasting versions of themselves being forced to act as one. This also seemingly results in a predilection towards violence. A bit more of an explanation for how I came to this assumption: While souls appear to exist within the universe of malevolent (what Arthur is now since Kayne destroyed his body), it appears that there is only one form for those souls to take within the dark world since there are not multiple Arthurs running around the dark world at the moment. Since the dark world is the end point for all realities and therefore all souls this means that every soul of every version of a person is placed in that single available body. This also implies that the lighter is capable of ensuring only our version of Arthur and in turn only the souls of other members of his original reality are in control of the body they inhabit within the dark world.

And now to Kayne

Kayne is experiencing the effect that the dark world has on the people within it at all times.

When we first meet him Kayne states that he wishes he had only one voice in his head rather than the thousands of other voices. It is generally assuming these are the other versions of Nyarlathotep who he has somehow merged with.

This merging of souls is what happens within the dark world.

Secondly, within the Cthulhu mythos Nyarlathotep prefers to cause madness over death, finding it more fun. Kayne however, has an intense preference towards violence and seemingly takes joy in it. This uncharacteristic violence seems to be a side effect of forcing more than one version of your own soul into a body.

Kayne presumably had to enter the dark world to make the deal with John during season 3. Yet he was aware enough to be able to make the deal and not taken over by the dark world. This suggests that the dark world does not affect him because there are no souls of dead Nyarlathotep’s for it to place into his body - they are already there.

This also adds to how Kayne is adamant that he is Kayne not Nyarlathotep. Trans allegories aside in the same way people in the dark world are not the singular person they were before Kayne is a completely different person to the Nyarlathotep he started out as. Meaning that the name and identity of Kayne is both a choice and a truth since he is not the same entity that Nyarlathotep started out as.

Kayne does seemingly has more control over the other versions of himself, they are simply voices rather than innate parts of him.

However, this is still a phenomenon that I believe is intrinsically linked to the storing of many versions of yourself in your own body.

I also believe that this could affect him more than it affects humans in the dark world.

Kayne is this culmination of the compression of thousands of versions the literal embodiments of chaos into one body creating this being of pure amplified chaos in ways the original Nyarlathotep would not be. Acting like a neutron star in so much as there is such a high density of raw power that he is effected by this tenfold. Resulting in him becoming more chaotic and violent as a result of killing and becoming one with every other version of himself (bar the manager).

So in conclusion, Kayne is the way he is due to a similar influence to the corrupting power within the dark world. This lead to him becoming less controlled and far more violent.

[jessesluvr]

please can you write about the new years party? theyre not together yet, hes clearly in love but the reader is a bit closed off, but he convinces her to dance with him

new year's dance | jesse x reader

author's note : none really, please enjoy ! hope you all are having an amazing day !

summary : jesse stands across the room, clearly lovesick and pining as he watches you from afar, until dina and ellie — fed up with his quiet longing — tease and push him into finally making a move. with a flushed face and nervous resolve, jesse decides to ask you to dance, heart pounding and hope blooming.

word count : 1.1k

the music was louder in the corner where dina and ellie stood, watching the party swirl around them. but their attention wasn’t on the crowd — it was on jesse.

he was across the room, leaning against a doorway, eyes locked on you with that unmistakable look: completely smitten, heart obvious to anyone paying attention.

“oh man,” dina said, nudging ellie. “he’s seriously hopeless.”

ellie smirked, folding her arms. “you mean he’s been pining over (y/n) since forever and still hasn’t done anything?”

“yep. he looks like a lovesick puppy.”

jesse was biting his lip, nervously fiddling with his cider glass, stealing glances your way every few seconds.

“jesse,” ellie said, loud enough for him to hear, “if you don’t ask (y/n) to dance soon, we’re coming over there and dragging you onto the floor ourselves.”

jesse’s cheeks flushed bright red, but he laughed nervously. “it’s not that easy.”

“sure it is,” dina said, arms crossed, mock stern. “just take their hand, say you want to dance. you don’t have to solve world hunger while you’re at it.”

ellie grinned. “and if you’re too chicken, we’ll just make it happen.”

jesse swallowed hard, glancing back at you once more, then finally nodded.

“okay,” he muttered, “okay. i’ll do it.”

dina and ellie shared a triumphant smile. sometimes, even the toughest guys just needed a little push.

the old house was alive with celebration. fairy lights draped across wooden beams cast a warm amber glow over the faces of friends chatting, laughing, and sharing hopeful wishes for the new year. outside, the snow fell quietly, a soft white blanket muffling the world beneath it. you stood by the frosted window, the chill pressing against your back, watching breath fog the glass. the party hummed behind you like a gentle storm, but you felt distant, like a ghost drifting through a room you couldn’t fully inhabit.

jesse appeared beside you like a steady flame, his presence quiet but impossible to ignore. his eyes caught the soft light, shining bright and full of something you weren’t quite ready to name.

“hey,” he said softly, holding two glasses of spiced cider, steam curling upward like a small promise.

you glanced at the glass he offered, fingers brushing his as you accepted it. the warmth radiated through your palms, a gentle contrast to the cold that had settled inside you.

“thanks,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

jesse’s gaze searched your face, as if trying to read the stories you hadn’t told him yet. “you’re awfully quiet tonight. usually you’re the first one laughing at my terrible jokes.”

you managed a faint smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “just… thinking.”

he nodded, understanding deeper than words could say. “yeah. i get it. new year’s can be a weird kind of night. everyone expects you to be happy, hopeful, like it’s a reset button. but sometimes it’s just another day with a little more noise.”

you looked out the window again, snowflakes drifting like fragile dreams. “feels like a reset i’m not sure i want.”

jesse’s voice softened, the edge of something vulnerable slipping through. “what if it’s not about the big changes? what if it’s about small moments? finding a little piece of light when everything else is dark.”

his words tugged at something buried deep inside you — a quiet ache, a guarded hope you hadn’t dared to touch.

before you could stop yourself, you found your hand reaching for his. the warmth of his skin was electric, grounding. “maybe,” you said, voice fragile.

jesse smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart stutter. “come on,” he said gently, “dance with me.”

you blinked, surprised. “i don’t know… i’m not really a dancer.”

“that’s the point.” he laughed, a soft, easy sound that wrapped around you like a blanket. “i’m terrible at it too. no pressure.”

the music shifted into something slow and gentle, the perfect kind of song to lose yourself in. jesse stepped closer, his hand offering again, steady and patient.

for a moment, you hesitated. but something about the way he looked at you — so honest, so hopeful — made your walls crack just enough.

you slipped your hand into his.

he pulled you close, his other hand resting lightly on your waist. you felt the heat of his body, the steady beat of his heart under your cheek. your own heartbeat tangled with his, a quiet rhythm that whispered possibilities.

the room melted away.

you moved awkwardly at first, your limbs stiff, your breath catching when you stumbled slightly.

jesse chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “hey, you’re doing great.”

his voice was warm, a lifeline. you relaxed against him, allowing the music to carry you.

“why didn’t you ask me sooner?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“maybe i was scared,” he admitted. “scared you’d say no, or worse, think i was just being friendly.”

you looked up at him, surprised by the vulnerability there. “i didn’t think you liked me like that.”

“i do,” jesse said simply. “more than i probably should.”

his honesty made your heart ache. you’d been closed off for so long — afraid to hope, afraid to fall. but here he was, patient and steady, showing you a kindness that felt like home.

the music shifted again, and you both swayed in comfortable silence. your fingers tightened around his, searching for courage you weren’t sure you had.

“why do you look at me like that?” you whispered.

he smiled, eyes crinkling with warmth. “like you’re the only person in the room worth seeing.”

a tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.

jesse’s thumb brushed it away gently. “hey. don’t hide how you feel.”

“i’m scared,” you admitted, voice trembling. “i’m scared of getting hurt.”

he pulled you closer, voice low and steady. “i won’t let that happen. not while i’m here.”

you leaned your forehead against his, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you and the quiet promise hanging between your breaths.

the clock chimed — ten seconds until midnight.

jesse’s breath was warm on your skin. “whatever the new year brings, i want to face it with you.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodded against him.

“three… two… one…”

“happy new year,” you said, your voice steady.

jesse smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “happy new year, (y/n).”

and in that moment, surrounded by friends and lights and the gentle falling snow outside, you felt something fragile and beautiful take root in your heart.

a new beginning — maybe not perfect, but real.

[raphaelesbian]

I really do draw like. the same kind of thing over and over fasdglkshdklg. but i love them 👉👈 Baby Raph almost dying, contrasted with his adult self. I imagine this as the exact moment Leo turned around and saw that Raph had been hurt c: burned into his retina for the rest of his life, probably.

inspiration for this one was "return to sender" by lulyam fshdlkagsdg. he has MOMMY ISSUES.

Details under the cut

i love a good look of terror <3 that stunned moment before he can even comprehend what happened. he's 14 here, so I had some fun trying to balance "he's a full-blown gangster who already has a reputation as being dangerous" and "literally a baby."

and then in his freak era. I've been drawing him being all cute and domestic lately so I had to draw him being feral again. what a guy. clearly no long-term psychological impacts from his upbringing.

also this ORIGINALLY wasn't on purpose, but @awzominator pointed it out on the first draft and I decided to lean into it. baby raph's shirt is koi fish—peaceful, symbolize good fortune and perseverance—and lotus blossoms—purity, life, resilience. And then his adult shirt is dragons—strength, power, protection. And of course the blue vs the red. Idk I just love a good contrast 🥰