#and the voice acting feels way more natural

[felassan]

David Gaider on Morrigan, under a cut for length:

"Morrigan began, waaaay back, as a bit of Morgan le Fey (hence the Dark Ritual) mixed with Delirium from Sandman. The Delirium elements subsided into more of a weird cadence of speech as my idea of Morrigan solidified - more cynical, wanting to connect but unable to. Originally, we were looking for a Middle Eastern actress to play her, as Shoreh Aghdashloo was slated to play Flemeth and we wanted a similar sounding voice -- but it was a real struggle, and then Shoreh unfortunately had to drop out to do a movie. So suddenly we had nobody for either character! Then, one day, Caroline (our VO Director) comes in with a recording sent by a rep for Claudia Black - who hadn't done game VO back then but wanted to get into it. And it was Claudia doing a slow *beat poet* rendition of Baby Got Back. I kid you not. I was already a fan, so I lost my goddamn mind. (Yes, I still have the recording. No, you cannot have it.) Naturally, we jumped on that immediately. As I recall, this was met with resistance from higher up - they had this image of Morrigan as young, like 18 years old (no idea where this came from) and complained that Claudia sounded "too old". Them: "She sounds like she smokes three packs a day!" Me: "That's what I like about her!" Caroline and I were determined, so we pushed ahead. We had to agree to get Claudia to sound "younger", which I was dubious about. The first two sessions we asked her to pitch her voice up and it was AWFUL. Claudia had to focus on sounding "right" instead of acting. So Caroline and I did the sneaky thing, and on the third session we asked her to just... act. Use her natural voice. We loved her performance so much we had the feeling that the team would love it too and forget their nonsense. They did. My best memory of Claudia was when we first met. I'd been flown down to LA for the initial sessions to help the major DAO actors find the character "voice" and, boy, was I nervous. It didn't help that I was a huge fanboy of Claudia's and she was going to be the *first* of all the actors I'd talk to. Caroline gave me a list of rules for "how to talk to a celebrity" - top of the list: DO NOT COMPARE THEM TO OTHER ACTORS. So I meet Claudia, and I'm sweating. I think: I'll start from the beginning, right? "Well, when I started writing Morrigan, the voice in my head was Helena Bonham Carter..." Claudia gives me a look and tilts her head. "So what you're saying is... I'm a very cheap version of Helena Bonham Carter." I'm mortified. I melt. I gasp and stutter and she lets me implode for maybe 30 seconds before she throws her head back and LAUGHS. So wicked. I love her instantly and forever. For the next several days, whenever she's in the booth and I make a comment to Caroline - which she can't hear, because the booth is sound-proof - she'd say "Oh, does he want it more like Helena?" And I'd melt into the desk in renewed mortification and she'd LAUGH. This is Claudia in a nutshell. Morrigan became a real touchstone for me, the heart of DAO. Way beyond her initial inspirations. Some said "she's just an ice queen" like some I'd written (Viconia, Bastila, etc.) but such categories are very reductive, I find. She had a voice I could instantly slip into, every time, without fail. The problem, after DAO was said and done, was with how we were going to honour the Dark Ritual going forward... or, more to the point, how we *weren't* going to honour it. I wasn't willing to let her go, however, so I had to figure it out. BUT... that's a story for another day. CORRECTION: A friend reminds me that the beat poet recording Claudia did was "Smack That" and NOT "Baby Got Back", and now I need to go give it another listen just because I can."

[source thread]

David Gaider: "Actually, when Shoreh's movie wrapped she came back and asked if the role was still available - her grandkids were VERY excited for her to be in a game. It wasn't, but as I recall Caroline was all "well, we have this role in ANOTHER game we're making..." Hence why she ended up in ME2." [source]

David Gaider: "Tali's accent was purely created by the actress - which made it a bit of an Issue when the time came to have more Quarians in ME2. "Do we get the actors to all try and mimic... whatever she's doing?" I'm certain Caroline could write a book about how THAT all went down." [source]

User: "I also never knew that Delerium was part of the inspiration for her (atleast in the beginning)." David Gaider: "It'd be difficult to see that now. The very first drafts were a lot more eccentric - more like Flemeth, I'd say, but times ten. The feedback I got was that she's a bit too LALALULU and I had to agree (and my idea of her was changing anyhow). So that slowly got weeded out." [source]

User: "What had you seen Claudia in that made you such a big fan already? (was it pitch black?)" David Gaider: "Originally? Farscape. Then Pitch Black, yes. I tried watching Stargate just for her, but coming in so late I kinda bounced off it." [source]

User: "My only complaint is, and has always been, why is she the straight romance when everything about her screams lesbian?" David Gaider: "I would have written it, if it’d been allowed (remember this was VERY new back then), but after all was said and done I’m kind of glad I didn’t. The friendship path I wrote for Morrigan with a female Warden is perhaps my favourite but of writing I did from back then." [source]

User: "Morrigant to me was such a fantastic character because of the way she sounded! Her introduction in DAO is iconic to me "Well, Well, what have we here?"" David Gaider: "You have NO IDEA how many takes that took. 😳" [source]

User: "Claudia Black did an amazing job with every line in every game." David Gaider: "She absolutely did. It took some time for her to get her bearings, but by the end of our first few sessions I actually went back and re-wrote a bunch of lines to match Claudia's voice. She informed so much of who Morrigan became." [source]

User: "are YOU the reason we see so much morrigan after dao? (positively, she is one of my all time favourite characters)" David Gaider: "Yes and no. She was always considered, by both me and the team, to be a "face" of Dragon Age. I'd have put her in DA2 if there'd been room, but thankfully that limitation is what allowed Flemeth to grow into her own." [source]

User: "were Morrigan and Flemeth always supposed to be Chasind, and/or did the Chasind have any ties to northern Thedas in earlier drafts of the character? The Chasind are universally depicted with dark skin except for Morrigan and Flemeth." David Gaider: "I don't think we had a very clear idea of the Chasind in general back then - they kind of got abandoned as a concept once we cut the Human Barbarian origin for DAO, and were only picked up again later." [source]

[kittencombat]

Obsessed with this art and wrote a little fic to go along with it 💖 Thank you @gozoakarte for the oodles of inspiration! Their patreon is the best investment I've made in months and always feeds the bloodweave brain 🙏

Originally posted on my Bluesky, apologies for any wonky formatting!

It had been an unnecessarily loud evening.

Astarion had found a bear to feed from—at least that’s what his raucous laughter and gleeful slurring had told him from across the campfire. They’d known he was a vampire for hardly two days (well, the rest of them, Gale had his suspicions since the moment he saw those canines), and yet Astarion already felt comfortable enough to bare his fangs freely and brag about his prey.

It was… unsettling.

That was surely the feeling roiling in Gale’s stomach. The natural, human instinct for self-preservation, to pull away lest he end up his new acquaintance’s aperitif.

“Well, since we all seem more than sated, I’ll be retiring for the evening.”

There’s a small chorus of noises both polite and uncaring, which he supposed was to be expected. He turned on his heel, only to hear Astarion call out to him with a lilting tease.

“Forfeiting your place by the fire, wizard?”

He hadn’t even realized. But he’d be loathe to admit that his retreat was anything but tactical. “I can’t imagine I would get much sleep out here.”

Gale can hear Astarion’s smirk. “Pity.”

---

Sleep is fitful, when it finally comes.

It starts with her, of course, because it always does. Hope turned hell turned shame that climbs the column of his throat with greedy, lilac vines. An all-consuming ache that rots him from the inside-out.

Then, the squirming tadpole bores itself behind his eyes, and he can almost feel that it knows he’s dreaming of it. It wriggles awfully, preening under his attention even if it’s not by choice.

“Pity,” A voice echoes, lingers, curls its claws into the soft flesh of his sides. Gale shudders, but there’s nowhere else to go. If he arches any higher, he’ll feel the fanged smile dig into his skin.

There’s already something—someone’s blood dripping from his porcelain canines. His stomach churns, heavy with jealousy, and Gale whines. “Astarion—“

He feels his feet thrash against the bedroll. He’s burning up, he thinks, and Astarion is the flame. “Are you curious, darling?” Gale’s head is swimming. It’s barely words. “How it feels?” Teeth, thoughts, “Or maybe… how you taste?”

The flush of heat pulls him under, skims a hand beneath his waistband.

He’s already hard.

One stroke turns into another, then a half a dozen. He doesn’t hear the tent flap open. Doesn’t hear the laughter until it carves through the heady, heavy dream, and a cold palm splays against the hollow of his throat.

Gale recoils, but Astarion has already caught him in the act.

“You were dreaming so loudly, darling.” He moves—slithers, more like—until his limbs unfurl to pin Gale back against the bedroll. Flashes him a grin, and Gale’s heartbeat jumps. “I thought perhaps I’d make a few of them come true. How does that sound?”

Gale doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t think at all, not really. But Astarion must find his answer wriggling between their tadpoles, because his fangs replace his fingers at the center of Gale’s collarbones.

He takes a shuddering breath. Astarion huffs a laugh before he begins to trace the bladed edge slowly along his skin. Gale lets his eyes fall closed again and just feels.

It starts above the orb, the barely-there touch of teeth. He traces along one wisping line until he’s notched just so along the juncture of Gale’s neck.

“A matching pair, how about it?”

Gale whines. His cock aches, but there’s no way to stroke himself without Astarion knowing. Astarion mouths playfully higher, a sweet pink scrape, but the bloom of pain is immediately salved by the strange coolness of Astarion’s cheek.

Finally, his fangs come to rest above the rabbit-thump of his pulse. Gale can’t help it—he’s caught between his fear and his arousal, and the man at the center of both must feel his every whimper.

And it’s… careful.

Almost as if Astarion waits for permission before he sinks his teeth into his skin. Deft fingers wrap around Gale’s wrist, nails trailing through the downy hair below his navel. His chest aches with perilous feeling, the orb—

The orb.

“Ah—Astarion…” His voice is hardly more than a whisper, rough with sleep and want, “Wait a moment, wait, you—I can’t. It isn’t safe.”

“Gale, didn’t you hear? I took on a bear, I hardly think—“

Gale finds his strength, and wrests himself up to face Astarion head-on. The other man seems… less than enthused. Frustrated, even. It’s a strange crack in his composure.

Did he want a taste so badly?

“A... kiss, then.” Gale isn’t sure why he suggests it. Or why Astarion draws close again, fangs bared as he lingers just a breath away.

It is a quick, chaste thing. A brush of chapped skin, fumbling in the dark. And yet Gale’s heart is pounding in his ears.

Astarion scoffs, quietly. “Is that all?”

“I… think it ought to be.”

There’s a moment of quiet. A chance to reconsider. But when Gale doesn’t, Astarion quickly moves to leave him.

“Well. Do try to keep your thoughts to yourself next time, darling.”

Gale chokes on his laugh. “I will do my best. My sincere apologies if I interrupted your revelry.”

Astarion waves off the remark, but it is clear that he looks at him different than he had before.

---

The night air is colder now.

Astarion finds himself unsettled by the feeling that has rooted in his chest. He tries to rub away the lingering thought of him from his lips, and slices through a knuckle in his haste. 🩸🔮

muah muah

[fratttymatty]

The Card That Changed Everything

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot Novak had always been the quintessential "nerd" in high school. At 18, he was just a few weeks away from graduating, a proud member of the debate team, the editor of the school newspaper, and a staunch liberal in a town that was a bit more on the conservative side. With thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and a backpack full of books slung over one shoulder, he had always felt a little out of place. His friends, a small but close-knit group of fellow "outsiders," often joked that if the high school hierarchy were a pyramid, he’d be firmly planted at the bottom, right next to the chess club.

Elliot had been expecting a quiet, uneventful Friday night. But when his best friend, Max, invited him over for a game night, he reluctantly agreed. It was nothing too out of the ordinary—just a few games of Uno and maybe some pizza. What he didn’t expect was that this seemingly innocent night would change his life forever.

It started innocently enough. The group—Max, his girlfriend Lily, and Sarah from the drama club—sat around Max’s living room, laughing and talking as they shuffled the colorful cards. The first few rounds of Uno passed without incident. Elliot was his usual self: sarcastic, quick-witted, and, as always, a little too passionate about winning.

Then came the final game of the night. For some reason, the cards seemed to fall differently. He felt a strange energy in the room, a kind of buzz that seemed to hum in his ears. It was Max who had drawn the last card, and as he placed it down, there was a sudden flash of light, so brief that no one noticed—except Elliot.

The world seemed to tilt.

He blinked, disoriented, trying to shake the odd feeling of vertigo. The room appeared the same, but everything felt… different. He looked down at his hands, which were suddenly larger, more muscular, the knuckles rougher. His clothes felt tighter, almost too tight. As if on instinct, he reached up to adjust his glasses, but they weren’t there.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his voice coming out deeper, rougher than usual.

Max, still grinning from winning the last round, glanced over. “You okay, man?”

Elliot’s heart started to race as he realized something was wrong. He glanced at the mirror across the room, and for a moment, he barely recognized the reflection staring back at him. His once lean, skinny body had transformed into something broader, more defined—his arms, his chest, his jawline—all of it seemed so different. His short, curly brown hair was now dark and tousled in thick, messy curls, and his face, still familiar in shape, had lost its nerdy softness, replaced by the sharp angles of a confident, athletic young man.

He was no longer the bookish Elliot Novak. In the mirror, staring back at him, was someone new.

“Max, I don’t… I don’t think I’m okay,” Elliot’s—no, his new voice—sounded unfamiliar, confident in a way it had never been before.

“Dude, you’re acting weird. What’s wrong?” Max asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I… I feel different,” Elliot murmured. But as he spoke, he didn’t feel the anxiety or the usual sense of out-of-place-ness he had grown accustomed to. Instead, there was something else—a surge of confidence, a sense of power. A feeling of certainty.

He was no longer Elliot Novak. He was Ethan Cole.

Ethan ran his fingers through his new head of tousled, dark brown curls, noticing how it felt different, more natural than his old look ever had. He straightened his back, feeling the strength in his spine, the ease of standing tall. He had always been awkward about his body, but now it was as if he had been molded into something new, something purposeful.

Max looked him up and down, his eyes widening. “Holy crap, Elliot, what the hell happened to you?”

The name Elliot felt wrong in Ethan's mouth. "It’s Ethan, man. You know, like… the name that suits me," he said with an easy smirk, not understanding why he was suddenly so at ease with himself. A new sense of self-assurance flooded his veins, and he felt an overwhelming desire to flex his muscles, to show off this newfound strength.

"You're acting weird," Max muttered, unsure what to make of this transformation. But Ethan was already adjusting to his new life.

He looked at the game of Uno, now discarded on the floor, and the realization hit him. It was the game, the card. It had changed everything, even his very identity. But rather than panic, he felt a strange sense of… relief.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't miss being the old Elliot. Being Ethan felt right. His thoughts began to align with his new persona—no more arguing about social justice issues, no more complicated liberal viewpoints. No, now he saw things clearly. The world was about competition, dominance, and personal achievement. It made sense. Everything made sense.

And the people around him? They weren’t so different from him anymore. He gave Max a friendly clap on the back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, bro. But we should hit the gym sometime, huh?”

Max blinked in surprise. “Uh… sure, man. That actually sounds good.”

But something in Max had shifted too. His posture straightened, his eyes narrowed with sudden focus, and an unexpected grin spread across his face. “Yeah, you’re right. I could use a solid workout. We should start lifting.”

As if by magic, Max’s transformation mirrored Ethan’s. His body began to tighten and firm up, his once lean frame now more muscular, shoulders broader, chest more defined. His hair, always scruffy, seemed to grow thicker, more styled—almost like it had a purpose now. He gave Ethan a playful shove. “Maybe I’ll even beat you at this gym thing.”

Ethan grinned. “You can try.”

The two exchanged a knowing look, as if they were already bonding over something bigger than just physical strength. It was a new world, one where power and confidence ruled. For Ethan, it felt like a natural fit.

As the evening wore on, Ethan felt something else—something different in the air. Kassie, Max’s girlfriend, had been sitting on the couch, watching their interactions. She was the type of girl who didn’t usually give Ethan much attention. But now, there was something new about him—something magnetic, something that drew her in.

She looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the way his new curls framed his face. She smiled slowly. “Ethan, right? I’ve gotta say, you’re looking good.”

Ethan felt his chest puff with pride. “Thanks, Kassie. You’re not so bad yourself.”

She laughed lightly, a flirtatious edge to her tone. “How about we grab a coffee sometime? You and me?”

Ethan smirked, feeling the newfound confidence flood his veins. “Sounds like a date.”

By the end of the night, Ethan had fully embraced his new life. He wasn’t just a jock in body; he was a jock in spirit. His new persona felt like home. Kassie was his girlfriend now, Max was a jock too, and together they would rule the school.

The old Elliot, with his liberal ideals, his anxiousness, his nerdy quirks—was nothing more than a distant memory.

Ethan Cole was here to stay.

[nickssidewitch]

✨❤️ How the Sturniolo Triplets Flirt With a Crush 😻✨ (a Tarot Reading)

Chris 🧡

Very invested, will make sure to keep up with his crush almost every single day 😭

But he also overthinks A LOT during this stage, so he’ll ease back if he thinks he’s doing too much.

He’ll post little things on his socials so the person he’s flirting with can see them. It’ll be little subliminal messages and things of that nature.

But he’ll also overthink that as well, and will probably even make little clarifications to try not to make it seem like it’s directed at someone (even though it most definitely was).

My Gosh, this man worries so much when he flirts because he hopes the girl can pick up on it and if he’s not being super cringy or he’s not making her turned off.

If he can see that the girl is enjoying his flirting, he won’t worry as much, but she has to be super direct about it, otherwise he will literally die of overthinking 😭😭

He flirts the most via social media posts, but he also texts and does FaceTime calls a lot with the person he’s into. He’ll wanna text/call them late at night just so they can both catch up on each other’s days and just vent.

He will literally stay up for hours, laying on his stomach, feet dangling in the air like a giddy schoolgirl, staring down at his phone just to see if his girl will ever call him or text him. I’m exaggerating… but also I’m not.

He’s a great listener, so he doesn’t mind a rant or a trauma dump or two 😭

He will buy his girl things that remind him of her. Little trinkets like charms and stuffed animals. He’ll buy clothes and jewelry if he sees something he knows the girl will like.

He will pay for everything.

He definitely puts on a certain voice that he doesn’t even realize. (I can hear it in my head and it’s sexy as fuck. A bit raspy and low, a bit of a whisper). He even has a look on his face and will stare at you with that look 😭 He has no clue he does it though.

Lots of music. Lotsss.

If he feels that the flirting is not working though, he will be devastated.

Nick 💜

He actually prefers being flirted with. He likes being the center of someone’s affection. *debby ryan meme*

He will do obvious things to flirt with someone. And if the guy don’t pick up on it, that’s on him ✌🏾

He’s a gift giver and acts of service kind of guy when flirting. If the man doesn’t appreciate what he’s doing by actually acknowledging it, then he’ll be devastated and won’t give you the time of day anymore.

I think he knows what he wants, who he wants, when he wants it, and sometimes why. 😭

That can be a bit intimidating for some guys because they have this expectation of him being someone who will change themselves just to get their attention. But in reality, Nick is very confident in who he is and would never change himself for a man’s attention (unless it’s literally just him working out or drinking more water, etc.)

He’s asking his brothers about what guys do in certain situations (because usually it’s a bi or more masc guy he’s into). He’ll literally go to Chris or Matt with his phone, show a text and be like “oh my gosh what does this mean??”

He’ll definitely be touchy-feely with you, and that’s a big deal because he hates touching people and people touching him. So if he’s got his arm around you, then you’re the one for him!

Matt 💙

Super invested like his brothers.

People keep saying he’ll be dry which is very untrue. That man will always find a way to keep the person he’s flirting with entertained.

He wants them to laugh and actually find him funny, otherwise it won’t work and he knows it.

Humor is a way for him to figure out whether you’re actually listening to him and understand him and the way he thinks. So if you can’t pick up on his humor or don’t laugh at certain jokes he makes, you’re out.

He likes flowers and chocolates, but doesn’t mind jewelry and expensive things to bring his girl as well. And if she’s like “Oh, Matt, you shouldn’t have”, he’ll be like “Um, yes, I definitely should have, and I did!”

He’ll send risky texts or say risky things just to see the girl’s reaction to them. Nothing too crazy or frisky. Just something that can spark a reaction that can be a telltale sign of whether she’s into it or not.

These are the basics of it! Lmk if you guys liked this post!! 🥰

[dissapointu]

heey!! i know this ask is kind of "basic" (?), but how u think the main arcane characters would act when jealous?

hope ur having an amazing day! 💗💗

Hey! Not a basic ask at all! I’m so happy you asked about it! Here’s how I think each of the main characters would act when they’re jealous:

————————————————————————

Jinx

When Jinx is jealous, it’s explosive. She’s fiery and impulsive, so if she sees someone giving you attention she feels should be hers, she’ll act out in her usual chaotic manner. You might find her stealing you away from the conversation or making snarky comments about the other person. Sometimes, she might do something drastic—like creating a distraction to get all eyes on her, just to pull the attention back to you both.

Her jealousy comes from a deep place of fear—fear of being left behind, fear of losing you. After she’s had a moment to cool down, she might feel guilty and try to apologize, likely with an overly affectionate gesture like hugging you too tightly or showering you with small, quirky gifts.

Vi

Vi’s jealousy is a little more reserved but still pretty obvious. She’ll start to get more protective and territorial, maybe by giving the other person a cold look or stepping in between you and anyone she feels is getting too close. Vi tends to bottle up her emotions until they boil over, so you might catch her being more snappy or distant if she feels threatened.

She doesn’t like to show weakness, but if she’s jealous, she’ll likely show it through her actions: touching your arm more often or pulling you into her space to remind everyone who you belong to. Once the tension passes, she’ll probably pull you aside and let you know, in her own way, that you mean the world to her.

Sevika

Sevika’s jealousy is subtle but intense. She’s the type to not raise her voice but to make her presence known. If someone is getting too close to you, she’ll give them a cold, calculating look that could freeze anyone in their tracks. Sevika’s jealous side is about control—she wants to make sure no one thinks they can take you from her.

She’ll often keep a closer eye on you, standing next to you, her hand brushing yours just to mark her territory. While she doesn’t usually show it outwardly, her jealousy can be felt in her sharp gaze or the slightly tense way she holds herself around others.

Silco

Silco’s jealousy is all about power dynamics. He won’t throw tantrums or act out, but he’ll certainly make it known that you’re his. If another person seems to be encroaching on his territory, he might lean in a little too close to you, making sure they see the way you belong to him. Silco will subtly remind you of his control, perhaps with a quiet comment or a possessive gesture that lets everyone know where his claim lies.

Silco’s jealousy is more calculating. He may play it cool on the outside, but inside, he’s stewing. You might notice him becoming quieter and more intense, his usual charm replaced by a steely, possessive edge when the other person is around.

Vander

Vander’s jealousy is quiet but deep. He’s protective by nature, and when he feels someone is paying attention to you, he’ll subtly step in, putting himself between you and the other person, though he might do so without saying a word. He has this quiet, brooding aura when he’s jealous, but he doesn’t let it consume him like some of the others.

Vander might not show his jealousy openly, but you’ll feel the subtle shift in the way he treats you. More hand-on-your-back gestures, longer gazes, and moments where he just wants to be closer to you. It’s his way of reassuring himself—and you—that you’re his.

Ekko

Ekko’s jealousy is playful at first, but you can tell when it starts to bother him. He’s usually laid-back, but when someone starts flirting with you or paying too much attention to you, he’ll try to act casual about it. He might throw out a teasing comment or two, or he’ll subtly remind you of his presence by getting a little closer to you. His jealousy is less about being possessive and more about wanting your attention back on him.

If Ekko’s really feeling jealous, he might act a bit pouty, rolling his eyes when someone flirts with you or trying to distract you with his own charm. His jealousy is wrapped in humor, but there’s definitely a layer of seriousness underneath.

Jayce

Jayce’s jealousy is a mix of insecurity and pride. He’s used to being admired, and when he sees someone else getting your attention, his ego takes a hit. He won’t confront the person directly, but you’ll definitely notice him getting more competitive or assertive. Jayce might try to impress you more than usual, showing off his intellect or skills to remind you of what he has to offer.

He might also get a little possessive, subtly pulling you into his space or touching you more often to show the other person that you’re with him. His jealousy makes him a little more vulnerable, but it’s wrapped up in a need to prove himself to you.

Viktor

Viktor’s jealousy is quiet but sharp. He’s usually more reserved, and he doesn’t like to show his emotions much. However, when he’s jealous, his calm demeanor shifts slightly. You might notice him giving cold stares or becoming a bit more distant with the other person. Viktor’s jealousy comes from a place of fear—he doesn’t want to lose you, and it makes him protective, though in a subtle, intellectual way.

He won’t make a scene, but you might notice that he’s paying more attention to you, giving you small tokens or compliments to make sure you know how much you mean to him. His jealousy is all about reassurance, both for himself and for you.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s jealousy is quiet, but it’s also straightforward. If she feels someone is giving you more attention than she should, she’ll get a little snappy. She’s usually so calm and controlled, but her jealousy shows through in the way she gets defensive of you. She might wrap her arm around you possessively or pull you closer to her side, making sure the other person knows where her loyalties lie.

She’ll try to be subtle about it, but you’ll notice the little hints—like her narrowed gaze or the way she holds you a little tighter than usual. Caitlyn’s jealousy comes from her desire to protect you and keep you close, though she won’t admit it easily.

Mel Medarda

Mel’s jealousy is calculated. She’s used to being in control, and when she sees someone getting close to you, she’ll start playing the game of power, making sure they know she’s the one in charge. She’ll likely become a little colder toward you, testing your loyalty without directly confronting the situation. Mel’s jealousy is more about dominance and ensuring that no one can take what’s hers.

You might notice her becoming more distant, though in reality, she’s just observing the situation carefully and making sure she keeps your attention focused on her.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa’s jealousy is regal but possessive. She’s a woman who knows her worth, and when someone steps into her territory, she’ll let it be known. Ambessa is likely to make a grand gesture to remind everyone—including you—that you belong to her. Her jealousy manifests in subtle but forceful ways, like ordering someone away or giving you a pointed look that says, “Don’t forget where you stand.”

Her jealousy comes from her pride—she expects loyalty and respect, and when that’s threatened, she responds with power and authority.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie’s jealousy is direct and fierce. She’s not afraid to speak her mind, so if she sees someone getting too close to you, she’ll let them know without hesitation. Maddie won’t be shy about pulling you away from someone else, using her body language and sharp words to assert that she’s the one who belongs by your side.

Her jealousy is rooted in a deep desire to protect and hold onto the person she loves. While she may seem cold or intimidating when she’s jealous, it’s simply because she’s fiercely protective of you.

Lest

Lest’s jealousy is quiet but intense. She doesn’t like to show it, but if she’s feeling possessive or threatened, she’ll subtly change her behavior toward you. Lest might get more clingy or affectionate in public, giving you more touches and attention than usual to remind the others that you’re hers. She’ll become more possessive of your time, subtly pushing others away without confrontation.

She’s not one for confrontation, but her jealousy comes out in small, quiet ways, often through the way she touches you or holds your attention.

[cmdrfupa]

Season of the Harvest

Toji Fushiguro

Old man Toji. My favorite seasons. I am letting the Toeji sentimentals flow. Thank you for reading 🫶🏾💞

The sun was still bright, but it hung lower now, its warmth fleeting like a hand slipping away in a crowd. The air had changed—subtle at first, just a crispness that crept into the evenings. By midday, it was still warm, almost deceptive, but the body knew.

Toji’s body prepared in ways too quiet to notice: a tensing of muscles, instinctively eating more to prepare for the impending change of weather. A slower stretch in the morning, a craving for heavier fabrics and sturdier boots. Summer tried its lingering act, stubborn and golden, but autumn had already staked its claim.

Always standing tall, unyielding, even as the inevitable loomed. His strength was palpable, the kind that made you think of high noon in July, where nothing dared to challenge the heat. But like the seasons, strength wasn’t eternal. It ebbed, shifted, dissolved into something else.

Toji didn’t fear the cold, not in the way others did. He welcomed it. The ache in his bones after a fight was a quiet kind of proof. A not so gentle reminder that he had lived through more storms than most.

Like the turning leaves, his body betrayed him in flashes: bruises that lingered longer than they should, the sharp tug of scar tissue when he moved too quickly. He carried the cold within him, even when the air still smelled like sunburnt grass.

The first real bite of autumn came late in the day. The sun had dipped beneath the rooftops, leaving behind only a smudge of orange on the horizon. Toji let out a breath, watching as it curled into the air, faint but visible now. The chill seeped into his jacket and pressed against his skin. He stood there for a moment, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze tracing the line of the trees—half-bare now, leaves scattered like forgotten promises across the pavement.

He wasn’t sentimental about the change. Nature didn’t waste time mourning what it lost, and neither did he.

You lived, you endured, and when the frost came, you kept moving. But there was something in the stillness of it all that caught him off guard. It wasn’t the cold itself, but the way it settled into him, deeper than any fight or scar ever had.

By the time he stepped through the door, the warmth of your home wrapped around him like a second skin. It smelled of tea, faintly sweet and spiced, and something else—something you’d made earlier, though the scent was faint now. He stopped in the doorway for a moment, letting the quiet fill the space between breaths.

You looked up from the couch, a blanket draped over your shoulders, and smiled. “Cold out there?”

He nodded, setting his boots neatly by the door. His movements were slower now, not from weariness but from the kind of ease that only came with being home.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low but without the rough edge it usually carried. “But it’s not bad. Not really.”

You tilted your head, watching him as he crossed the room. He rubbed his hands together absently, as if chasing the last bit of cold from his skin.

“I thought you hated winter,” you muttered, teasing.

He smirked, sinking onto the couch beside you. The cushion dipped slightly under his weight, and when you shifted to make room, his arm moved easily around your shoulders, drawing you closer. His lips cold, leaving a soft peck on your temple.

“It’s not winter yet,” he replied. “And even if it was... it’s not all bad now.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Really?”

He shrugged, his gaze distant for a moment. “The cold’s... honest, I guess. Doesn’t hide what it is. Makes you pay attention to the small things. Like this,” He gestured faintly at the blanket, the warmth between you growing as he settled under the worn quilt. “You feel it more when it’s cold.”

Toji leaned back into the couch, letting out a soft sigh as you pulled the blanket over both of you. The weight of the day seemed to settle into him, his body naturally finding the rhythm of home—slow, steady, unguarded. You nestled closer, your fingers absently tracing the edge of his sleeve, enjoying the quiet between you.

But then he shifted, almost uncomfortably, his hand brushing over the hem of his sweater. His movements weren’t the usual lazy kind he’d make when settling in, and you noticed the furrow in his brow as he tugged at the fabric around his torso.

“Something wrong?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed, his fingers still resting on the hem. “Feels tighter,” he muttered, his tone low and almost begrudging.

“What does?”

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely at himself. He pulled at his sweater again, frowning. “Sweaters didn’t fit like this last year.”

There it was. The quiet admission. You tilted your head, studying him as he sank deeper into the cushions, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. Toji wasn’t a man who often cared about appearances—at least, not outwardly. But the way he avoided your touch now, his usual confidence slipping just a bit, told you this was bothering him more than he’d admit.

You suppressed a smile, knowing better than to tease outright. “Oh, so you’re bulking up for the winter?” you asked lightly, your tone warm and teasing but far from mocking.

His jaw tightened, and he gave a small shrug. “It’s not intentional. Just happens, I guess. Fewer jobs that keep me moving, more food... and running the butcher shop keeps me busy but not enough.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Not really ideal.”

“Not ideal?” you repeated, your voice softening. “Why not?”

He shot you a quick glance, his expression carefully neutral, but you could see the faint frustration behind it. “Feels different. Like I’m slowing down.”

You reached up, placing a hand on his chest. “And here I thought you were just getting extra insulated for me,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips.

His eyes narrowed slightly, though the twitch of a smile betrayed him. “Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm.” You leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, you’re still ridiculously strong. I can’t even open half the jars you close, so I think we’re fine.”

He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Ridiculous,” he muttered.

“Okay, fine,” you said, grinning. “Intimidatingly strong. Like a bear preparing for hibernation. So cozy, but still oh so terrifying if you cross him.”

This time, the laugh that escaped him was louder, a low rumble that sent warmth blooming in your chest. He leaned his head back against the couch, a hand coming up to cover his face for a moment. “A bear,” he repeated, shaking his head again.

“Exactly,” you said, scooting closer. “I mean, it’s practical. You’re preparing for the cold. Plus, you look good.”

He dropped his hand, his gaze flicking to yours. “Yeah?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” you said, your expression softening. “You’ve got that rugged, ‘I can chop wood and build a fire with my bare hands’ kind of look. Winter suits you.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a quiet chuckle, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You’re full of it,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward again.

You leaned forward too, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”

He turned his head slightly, his nose brushing against your hair. “Doesn’t bother you? That I’m...” He paused, searching for the word. “Bigger?”

You looked down at yourself, laughing then looking at him. “Not even a little,” you said without hesitation. “If anything, I think it suits you. And, let’s be real, you’re basically my personal heater right now. I’m not complaining.”

Toji let out another soft laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back against the couch, taking you with him. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as the blanket shifted to cover you both.

“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost shy.

“And you’re perfect,” you replied easily, resting a hand against his chest again. “Winter bulk and all.”

Outside, the wind rattled the windows, but neither of you noticed. Wrapped in warmth, humor, and each other, the encroaching winter didn’t seem so daunting after all.

His movements were becoming slower now, deliberate. You could see it in the way he shifted his weight, how he flexed his fingers like he was trying to wake them up before his workouts.

But summers’ past and winters creeping in. More years behind than ahead.

So for now he enjoys the warmth you share. His body thankful for the slow pace he finally gave himself with you at his side.

[bambi-kinos]

Why do people perceive John's love for Paul as unrequited? I confess that I fail to grasp this perspective. Paul is absolutely infatuated with John in every sense of the word. The difference between him and John, as Paul himself has stated, is that John voices his feelings out loud, while Paul excels at self-preservation; he knows how to navigate the rules of society while also enjoying the thrill of breaking them.

For the same reasons why Hanya Yanagihara wrote her eye wateringly boring novel "A Little Life." In "A Little Life" Yanagihara writes a Stephanie Meyer-esque novel about boys being turned gay via SA perpetuated by adult men and how they eventually grow up and become super rich and also they all have vague disabilities that cause a lot of pain but never get full definition because defining them would be inconvenient to the narrative. (Disabilities are debilitating and Yanagihara wanted to write about Sad Boys Who Were Turned Gay By Child Rape But Also They Are Rich And Go On Globe Trotting Vacations Everywhere All The Time While Being Depressed.) The point of "A Little Life" is not to tell a Sad Gay Man Story about the fallout from CSA, it is to depict a sexually exploitive miseryfest that uses disability as a way to pad the word count and add a layer of fancy fondant to the masturbatory and self indulgent text that makes it look more interesting than it is.

I bring this up because I think the phenomenon are related. There has never been a good justification for why Paul is magically indifferent or blind to John being a gay simp especially when you have so many examples of Paul being a gay simp for John in return. BUT it does make for an even sadder and more exploitive miseryfest where a Sad Gay Man died Forever Alone because he was so in love with a Happy Heterosexual Man who could never Return His Love and that is what a lot of people want. That's the only reason the narrative has any steam IMO.

It's just trying to make a sad story and make it even worse: more sad, more tragic, more gay, etc. If John and Paul were mutually attracted and in love with each other than that means they may have had stretches where they were happy together and that's unacceptable to a certain kind of mind. Because the point is the emotional and sexual gratification of seeing a Sad Gay Man Suffering, not to respect the Sad Gay Man and his story and the events and decisions that lead to his predicament. If Paul reciprocates John's love then the John and Paul love story turns into a mundane tale about a first marriage that started out happy but didn't work out because the two spouses grew apart over time. The point of "A Little Life" is the same, there's nothing genuine or cathartic about the Sad Gay Men or the Sad Painful Disabilities, they only exist so the author can circlejerk with her readers about how enlightened and noble they are. Needing the misery becomes all consuming to the point that entire rest of the story, the three dimensional nature of it, gets destroyed and swept under the rug. It's too real and some people just don't want to engage with that.

There's a mundanity to McLennon. Yes there was all sorts of stuff happening but at the end of the day they were just another couple trying to muddle through life together. The soulmate-ness of it all didn't save them when push came to shove. There wasn't a clear path forward for them to make up and get back together even as friends. This is much harder to bear for some people because it shows how the simple act of living your life can carry you away from the person who loves you most. John and Paul found each other but they still drifted apart eventually and stopped wanting to be together. The romance novel didn't end with "happily ever after." The fact that it was so relatable and downright boring is something a lot of people don't want to know or hear about. How can they jerk off to it? It's not miserable or indulgent enough.

Reducing their dynamic to Sad Gay Man Who Is Forever Alone and his Evil Oblivious Heterosexual Partner Who is Blind To His Yearning flattens it, makes it two dimensional, and thus makes it a lot easier to cope with and masturbate to, emotionally and sexually. And look there may be some people who genuinely believe this and don't type that narrative out with one hand, but they're outliers and outliers get discarded.

[arvandus]

The Beauty of Broken Things

Barbatos x GN!Reader

Content warnings: SFW; reader with (vague) mental health issues; Reader has self-deprecating thoughts and low self-esteem; hurt/comfort; lots of dialogue; romance; first kiss (cuz I'm a sap 💚)

Author's Note: Not me coming out of hiatus to drop this at 1:20am on a weekday. ANYWAY.... I was going through it a month or so ago and this was very therapeutic and self-indulgent to write. Hopefully you'll find some comfort in it as well. 💚

You creep into the RAD greenhouse under the cover of the Devildom darkness.  The warm yellow lights, usually on to allow students to observe and take notes,  are turned off for the evening, causing the devildom flora to transform from something familiar to something alien, branches reaching like arms and long, pointed leaves stretched out like grasping fingers.

But despite the sinister threat of danger that is interlaced in the native plant life, it still feels comforting.  The gnarled limbs and black leaves feel more protective than threatening, arching over your head to provide a canopy of privacy in the quiet, uninhabited space.

Usually the greenhouse is a bustle of student activity, with botany classes often perusing the aisles with their notebooks and art students lingering with their sketchbooks.  But classes had long since ended, the busy chaos of academia ushered away by the sinking of the large Devildom moon, bringing with it night within night.

You need this.  You need the silence, the privacy, the darkness.  The House of Lamentation doesn’t offer it.  The Demon Lord’s castle is also not an option as you don’t want to impose purely for the sake of self-isolation.

No, this is perfect.  It is safe, safer than losing yourself in the real forests that press against the outskirts of the Devildom.  It is a place for hiding, a place for becoming invisible.  It is a place that makes you feel small, from the tightly clustered plants around you to the vast starry sky that slowly rotates high beyond the confines of the glass ceiling.  You could almost pretend you’re a bug, an insect, or some other small life form who’s only purpose is to exist in the here and now, moment to moment. 

Maybe then you could find peace in your mind; maybe that voice of sickness and lies that whispered louder than any demon would fall silent.

Not all days were this bad.  But the added stress, the fatigue.... you knew it was only a matter of time before you found yourself dangerously close to that pitch black rock bottom. You felt it encroaching, a shadow teasing the edges of your mind, and you knew... you knew you had to find somewhere to gather yourself, to work through it without interruption or curious eyes.

This helps.  A place of quiet, of privacy, of nature, even if the nature isn’t your own.  In its own alien way, it’s perfect.

Perfect, but also lonely. You both love and hate it, glad to be unnoticed for once but vulnerable against the rare isolation.  Rare, but not unfamiliar.  You sit with it; let it soak into your bones.  Like putting on old shoes that still fit, worn soles perfectly conformed to your feet, your mind eases into accepting that familiar ache, a feeling not often experienced anymore, but still deeply rooted in old memories and dreams.  The old loneliness hollows you out, slows the blood rushing through your veins as your mind eventually quiets to a low hum of white noise.  It brings its own twisted kind of peace; not the healthy kind that heals and rejuvenates, but the broken kind that separates you from yourself, an act of cutting rather than mending.

If you could turn to stone in this moment, you would.

But not even this will last forever, your quiet reverie interrupted by the sound of the door to the greenhouse opening and closing.  The sound of the click and the creak of the hinge is startling against the endless quiet, and it makes you jolt.  You fight the irrational urge to hide within the surrounding shrubbery, as if such an act would truly hide you at all, and instead curl in on yourself with arms and legs crossed on the stone bench where you sit.

Whoever it is, is as silent as a ghost; you hear no footsteps, nor sounds of breath.  Whoever it is does not speak, so you know instantly it is not any of the brothers or even Diavolo.  But you feel their presence, and you know they feel yours.  There is an awareness in the air that wasn’t present before, the atmosphere going from one of empty quiet, to buzzing consciousness.

A moment later, a familiar pair of polished black shoes come into your field of view, attached to a familiar set of legs that stand formally in a way that only a royal butler could accomplish.

You look up and your eyes meet Barbatos, who stares down at you with a calm, curious expression and a slight tilt of his head.  He’s still dressed in his RAD uniform, but his white gloves are removed, likely tucked into the interior chest pocket of his tailcoat.

“MC,” he says gently.  “I did not expect you to be here. You do know that the RAD campus is closed, yes?”

“I know,” you reply. 

Even so, you make no motion to move, your body still curled within itself protectively.  It isn’t so much to protect against him, but to hold onto that feeling of smallness that helps to separate you from the ache in your chest and the cacophony of your mind. 

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“Some of the flora require care after school hours, so I tend to them prior to locking up for the evening.”

“Ah.” Your sour mood strips you of your warmth, your words fading away as you retreat back into yourself.

Barbatos stares at you for a moment longer, before gesturing to the bench. “May I?”

You return his stare with your own before moving over just enough to make room for him.  The bench is small, comfortable for one, a slight squeeze for two, but he sits nonetheless, seemingly unbothered.  The proximity of him is a brand and a blessing, the heat of him surprisingly comforting while your heart thuds harder in your chest.  You’re rarely ever this close to him, any prior instances of physical contact occurring out of necessity rather than choice.

You both sit in silence for a long time.  You aren’t sure if he is expecting an explanation from you, but you couldn’t give one even if you wanted to, the struggles within yourself too tangled to fully unravel, especially with how weathered you feel.

Finally, after a few minutes, he is the one to break the silence, the smooth richness of his voice breaking the quiet that sits like a bridge between you.

“I often find the Devildom flora more beautiful in the dark.”

It is an olive branch, and you take it, a small smile curling the corners of your lips.

“Me too,” you reply.  “It feels more natural this way. When the lights are on, it feels like we’re trying to force the plants and flowers to be something they’re not.”

Barbatos stares at you for a long, quiet moment before returning his gaze ahead of him.  “Indeed. Things are more beautiful when they are allowed to be themselves.”

A sentiment you share, and yet it isn’t one you can extend to yourself, and it cuts you.

“I wish that were always true...” you mutter.

It’s a thought whispered past private lips, and you regret them instantly when his keen, green eyes, nearly black in the darkness, flick back to you.

“Why would it not be?” he asks.

You shift uncomfortably and swallow the lump that suddenly manifests where your voice is supposed to be.

“I don’t know...” you finally mutter evasively.

You feel his eyes lingering on you, and it feels as if he can read the dark thoughts that live there, shadow where sunlight should be.  But if he can read your mind, he doesn’t say so, and he doesn’t pry further.

Instead, Barbatos does something that you do not expect.  His hand covers yours, untangling your fingers from your tightly clasped palms that sit in your lap.  His touch is warm, warmer than you thought it’d be, and you can’t help but wonder how different his body really is from yours when it feels so human.

You watch as Barbatos twines his fingers with yours, a simple but shockingly intimate action.  It’s surprisingly comforting, fulfilling a longing within you that you didn’t even realize you carried so heavily until just now; an anchor of companionship, unwavering in its simplicity, gentle in its unassuming nature.  There’s a lack of expectation in Barbatos’s touch, a quiet acceptance of the here and now, of the you of this moment, rather than the ‘you’ that you always present to others, or the ‘you’ that others expect of you.

It makes something within you surrender.  It forces the dissociation from your mind, pulling you instantly back into reality, into your body. Barbatos’s tenderness, given freely without price, carves a space for itself within your chest, and it hurts, the sudden sharpness of vulnerability an open wound.  That vulnerability is unfamiliar, raw, terrifying. It calls forth your fears, makes the voices of wrongness sing louder than ever, listing all of the ways you are undeserving of this moment.  And you’re angry, angry at their presence, and their ability to ruin even this for you, to taint something peaceful and beautiful with something so ugly.

The tears finally come, blurring your vision and spilling over silently onto your cheeks.  More come immediately after, and you sniff, your nose starting to run as you wipe at your face.  A handkerchief appears within your view, and you take it, your heart too shy and embarrassed to look at Barbatos properly or even offer him a mumbled thank you.  But he shows no discomfort or disdain for your tears or lack of manners. Instead, he sits quietly with you, waiting patiently as he holds your hand securely within his own, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes on the soft skin between your thumb and index finger.

Quietly you cry, and quietly he waits.  Each second longer that you cry is a confession of your imperfection, your brokenness, and each second longer that Barbatos stays by your side is an acceptance, a forgiveness.  And so, without even speaking to one another, the very act of this shared moment provides a cleansing of your heart that you’d never felt before.  Each drop of salty water is a purge, a release.  There’s an amusing irony to it; an exorcism of sorts in a place where God isn’t welcome, supported by a creature who’s existence came from darkness.

The catharsis brings release, and the release brings fatigue.  The rigidness of your spine gives way to something more pliable, and you lean your head against his shoulder as you continue to weep, albeit gentler now that the worst of it has passed.  Barbatos lets you, his thumb barely missing a beat in its strokes against your hand.  He makes no effort to increase his physical reassurance; no arm around your shoulder, no leaning of his head against the crown of yours.  You’re grateful for it, not quite ready to be touched so completely.  Maybe soon... after all, the thought does entice you... but not yet. Not when your heart is still raw and tender.

No, this is perfect. It’s just enough.

Finally, the floodwaters of your heart recede, and you wipe away the last traces of wetness from your cheeks with his silk handkerchief. It’s damp with tears and snot now, and you know you’ll have to wash it before returning it to him.  You fiddle with it with your free hand, your thumb tracing along the cursive B that is sewn into its corner with dark thread, the color muted to black in the dark.

Your hands are still intertwined with each other, your head still resting against his shoulder, and you’re grateful for it as you find the courage to finally speak, your eyes still trained on that cursive B.

Your voice is quiet, hushed by hesitancy.  “Barbatos...I have a question...”

“Hm?”

“When I die, and my soul leaves my body.... does.... does that mean that the mental illness won’t be there anymore?  Does that part get left behind?”

“Ah,” Barbatos says softly, his voice rich with understanding. “I see.”

You sit up, although his hand still holds yours; after all, you haven’t pulled away yet.  But your eyes... your eyes are downcast, the shame of your breakdown too heavy regardless of Barbatos’s tenderness.

Now that you’ve finally confessed your fear it becomes easier to speak, and the words come more freely.  “I’m just... I’m tired of being this way.  Feeling this way, thinking this way.  It’s always there, like this big, lurking monster that I can’t escape from. Except it’s a part of me. I don’t know who I am without it. And I’m—” tears choke your words, but you force yourself to continue even as your eyes once again brim and sting.  “I’m just so afraid that it’ll never go away. Even when I die, and my soul is separated from this broken fucking body—”

A long, slender finger covers your lips, halting your impending tirade of self-loathing.  It forces you to finally look at him, and you’re surprised to see how deep the concern goes within his dark gaze.

“Shh,” he says.  “Don’t say such things.  It does the richness of all that you are a disservice.”

His words stun you into silence, and you stare at him wide-eyed.  He holds your gaze for a moment longer before taking the handkerchief from your clenched fist.  You start to protest, embarrassed at the state of it, but he ignores your concerns and uses a relatively clean spot to wipe away your new tears.

You fall silent as he cares for you, and in that silence, he begins to speak.

“You humans so often like to label and categorize things, an attempt at making sense of the world around you when you’re forever doomed to know so little. Lines of comparison drawn on a beach, not realizing that in the end, it’s all made of sand.”

You frown. “I don’t understand.”

“What you’re speaking of is a sickness of the mind, correct?”

“Yes, that’s one way to put it...”

Barbatos takes your palm in his hand and turns it face up.  “I’ve heard you humans often use the term ‘mind, body, and soul’ as if they are all separate.  Back when I spent time in the human realm, humans treated the soul as synonymous with the heart and the mind as synonymous with the brain, both housed within the body.”  With his finger, he draws one large circle, and within it, places two dots vertically spaced from each other.

You stare at your palm as you ponder his words.  “Yes,” you say, “that idea still lingers... sort of...”

 You take his hand in yours, and draw your own circles – a small, a medium, and a large, all inset within each other like a target.

“I think... I see the soul and mind as synonymous of each other, in way, that they depend on each other. Or...”

 You hesitate, your fears surfacing again as you stare at Barbatos’s open palm.

 “I think...” you continue slowly, “I think I’m afraid that they’re the same thing. That the soul only exists because of the mind. If that’s true, then if my mind is broken, then so is my soul, and I’ll be carrying that brokenness with me forever.  It’s like... trying to forge something using a metal riddled with impurities.  The integrity will always be compromised, no matter how beautiful the shape in the end.”

Barbatos’s open hand closes around yours, cradling your fingertips that still rest against his skin. He turns your hand over palm up again.

“Imagine this” – he draws a large circle – “is your body. And this” – he draws a smaller circle within it – “is your mind.”

You wait for the third circle, but it never comes.  You frown.

“Where is the soul?”

“Everywhere,” he says.

Your gaze lifts from your open hand to his eyes.  He smiles back at you in quiet mirth, then drops his gaze back to your hand.  His fingers retrace over the larger circle he’d first drawn into your palm.

“Your soul,” he repeats, “is everywhere.”

Confusion once again surfaces in the contours of your face. Barbatos stares at you for a moment as he searches for the words in a way that you can understand.  His eyes sink deep beneath the surface of you, and it makes you shift beneath his gaze.  After a moment he blinks, his amusement returning.

“Perhaps it is my choice of words that is unclear,” he says. “Allow me to try again.” 

He pokes your forehead with his index finger.  “Your mind is not the same as your soul the way you fear.  It is simply consciousness, self-awareness provided you by your biology,” he explains.

“You mean my brain.”

“Yes.”

“So my mind is just another part of my body.”

“Precisely.  Your body is merely the medium through which you experience this life, whether it’s through your senses, such as sight and touch, or through your consciousness.”

He returns to your hand, his fingers tracing the invisible large circle for a third time.

“Your soul, on the other hand, is a different thing entirely.  It isn’t something that can be contained to one organ within you.  Not your heart, not your brain.  It’s deeper than that, richer,” he says quietly, as if sharing a secret.

His touch travels, his fingertips gliding feather-light across your palm, up your wrist, following the tendons and veins to your forearm where goosebumps begin to awaken across your sensitive skin.

“It’s energy.  It’s life,” he continues. “It’s eternal, and it’s woven into every fiber of your being, a golden thread holding you together like the universe’s most exquisite tapestry.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers curve around your forearm until he holds it within his hand, his thumb rubbing gently against the soft skin where your veins rest beneath. His words enrapture you, his touch enthralls you. If there was ever a moment in your life you could stay trapped in forever, it would be this one.

But the moment is short-lived.  Barbatos’s soothing touch halts mid-motion, his expression turning blank, as if he suddenly remembers himself and realizes the growing intimacy of the exchange.  He withdraws his hand, and it leaves a cold emptiness where his warmth had been.

You ponder his words, but it only leads to more questions.

“My soul is everywhere...” you mutter.  “But Barbatos... if it’s woven into my body, then how...?”

“How does your soul pass on after you die?”

You nod.

Barbatos holds his chin in his fingers thoughtfully.  “You are thinking too literally.  Perhaps it is my own failure to find the right words.  Human speech doesn’t offer enough nuance to fully describe something your kind still struggles to understand.”

He ponders a moment longer, his brow knit together in concentration.  Finally his head lifts and his gaze meets yours.  “Ah.  Perhaps we can describe it as such.  Your body is made of matter, correct? And if you look deep enough, you know that all matter is made up of atoms.  But not even atoms ever completely touch.” He takes your hand in one of his and holds it up, your palm facing him, as he brings his other hand within a hair’s breadth; close enough to feel the heat emanating off of him, but not actually touching.  “There’s a negative space, ever present yet so infinitesimal that you’d never know it’s there.”  His hand finally touches yours, his fingers aligned with yours as he splays them out.  “It is this space that your soul exists, interwoven, encapsulating every atom of what you are.”

You’re staring at your touching hands, wide-eyed now, as you take in what he’s told you.  The scope of it feels nearly too vast to properly comprehend, despite how hard you try.

“It’s all very... complicated...” you mutter as you finally lower your hand back to your lap.

“Hm, is it?” Barbatos replies with a curious tilt of his head.  “Here then, another example, but simpler.  If you were to lose a limb, would it damage your soul?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re separate.”

And finally, it clicks for you. 

Barbatos smiles.  “Precisely.  So, if a lost limb will not damage your soul, then why should a damaged mind?”

The weightlessness of relief begins to spread from the center of your chest, and you release a long, deep breath.

“I see,” you say.  “So when I die...”

“When you die, your soul continues on, transformed, as your body decays.”

The balloon of relief breaks and you do a doubletake.  “...transformed?”

Barbatos nods.  “Yes, by your experiences and choices in this life.”

Once again that despair rears, the dark void opening beneath your feet as you cling to your dwindling hope. You once again wrap your arms around yourself protectively, as if you are the only one who can keep yourself from falling, despite the presence of the demon directly in front of you.

“But... Barbatos,” you protest, “sometimes mental illnesses can cause people to make bad choices.  Wrong choices.  Hurtful choices.  If those can impact the soul, then wouldn’t that mean the soul does get damaged? Or tainted?”

Barbatos falls silent for a long moment, and you avoid looking into his eyes, your gaze downcast.  His hand reaches out and covers your forearm reassuringly, but your arms remain crossed.

“As a demon, I cannot attest to how just the Celestial Realm’s rules are.  I, for one, find them to be rather suffocating and arbitrary, lacking in nuance.  But even I would be shocked if such things weren’t taken into consideration when it is time for a soul to be set upon the scales of judgment.”

Scales of judgment... the idea makes you nauseous.

Barbatos’s touch to your forearm is replaced by both of his hands on your arms just below the shoulders.  You can tell from the way he moves that he is ducking his head lower in an attempt to catch your avoiding eyes, but you keep  yourself hidden lest your tears return.

“MC....” he says softly,  “are you worried that you will be judged unfairly when your time comes?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, and when you do it’s thicker, heavy under the weight of emotions.  “Maybe... or maybe I’m worried I’ll be judged fairly.”

“If you do not go to heaven when your time comes, then the Celestial Realm truly is run by fools.”

His words surprise you, and you finally catch his gaze, amusement beneath a raised, sarcastic brow.  Your skin grows hot and you avert your eyes for a different reason, your shoulders lifting slightly in subtle retreat.

“Well,” you continue, “you said yourself that the soul gets transformed during this life.  I’ve made some not-so-great choices, so far.  I’ve done things I regret; hurt people I’ve loved and even people I didn’t.  What if my soul is not as good as I hope?”

Barbatos gives a soft scoff of amusement, his brows pinching up in the center as he stares at you in wry amusement.  “My dear, the very idea that your soul is anything but good is quite literally an impossibility.”

Your tension loosens slightly. “How do you know?”

The corner of one side of his mouth quirks up slightly. “Well, to start, I am a demon. And as one of the oldest demons, I have devoured countless souls across my lifetime.  If anyone is to be an expert on the quality of a soul it would be me.”

Something about the way he talks so simply about his violence, combined with his intimate kindness, makes you feel lightheaded.

It takes an extra heartbeat for you to find enough air in your lungs to speak.  “And, uh...what does a demon such as yourself consider high quality?”

Barbatos stares distantly, and for a moment he feels ancient.  When he speaks, his voice seems almost otherworldly, holding a resonance to it that wasn’t there before.  “It varies from demon to demon.  Some enjoy the flavor of corruption upon a soul, some prefer the sweet, crisp freshness of innocence and purity... but all human souls possess something that ours lack, something that makes us crave.  We’re drawn to it, in the way your human realm plants are drawn to sunlight.” He pauses and shakes his head.  “No, perhaps that analogy is too mild.  It is more how the Devildom’s Succubus’s Kiss lures its victims into its choking vines with the sweet promise of fruit.”

You swallow for a moment, your throat suddenly dry as you stare at your now empty palms where your longing for him sits abandoned.

“You make it sound as if humans are the dangerous ones,” you chide.

A half-hearted attempt at a joke, but Barbatos chuckles nonetheless.

“Yes; perhaps you are.”

You can’t tell in this moment if he’s referring to ‘you’ as in humanity, or ‘you’ as in something far more personal.  It only makes the curiosity sharper, honed on the whetstone of your pining.

“And my soul...” you continue, “what do you sense, Barbatos?”

Dread immediately follows your bold and vulnerable question, fearing what he must inevitably see in you.  Is Barbatos the type to enjoy the flavor of corruption, to find value in broken things?  Or is he more of a purist, always a keen eye for perfection?  You fear you already know the answer as you take in his crisp RAD uniform, his perfectly smooth features.  Your gaze falls downward, an attempt to hide what you’re sure he already knows.

One heartbeat, two.  Then your chin is being tilted up by his thumb and forefinger until your eyes are forced to meet his.  There’s a hint of luminescence in them, the green noticeable now where it wasn’t before, pushing against the dark monotone of night that previously washed his irises in near-black. His eyes are searching, seeking, finding, and you can feel the magic, the power that unravels every defense, every barrier.  Finally, his gaze settles, the green quiets to a deep, sleeping forest of pine in winter.  It’s peaceful; soothing.

If Barbatos’s earlier release of your arm was to provide distance from the growing intimacy between you, then the attempt was in vain.  Because now the affection in his gaze is unmistakable, the deep shadowy green cradling you the way his fingers cradle your chin. It weakens you, makes you feel like putty in his touch.

“You glow,” Barbatos whispers, “like sunlight trapped in ripples. It’s blinding, and yet so beautiful I find it impossible to look away.  I can feel it in you, emanating like heat from a hearth, and it makes me long for a home I’ve never had.”

The hum of his voice makes you shiver, goosebumps forming across your skin.  The adoration in his eyes falters briefly, the lingering green fading to black, giving way to a dark, ancient sorrow.

“I think,” he continues, “it’s a glimpse of what heaven must feel like.  A small piece of divinity passed down to you from your ancestor.”

His fingers release your chin, but the vulnerability remains, if not slightly muted due to the distance imposed by the lack of physical contact.

“I am different from Lucifer and his brothers in that I was never an angel.  I came into existence exactly as I am, and as such I’ve never known divinity.  And yet... despite never knowing it, there is still a strange... hunger for it.  It is a peculiar thing to miss something you’ve never known.”

“You... long for Heaven?” you ask him.

Barbatos tilts his head thoughtfully, his gaze absent somewhere past your shoulder. “Not so much Heaven the place. It’s more so the purity, the grace, to feel that sense of wholeness that the divine offers. It’s why we are drawn to human souls.  Angels, you see, are far too potent. Too much divinity hurts a demon; it can even kill them.  But you... you humans have just enough of both worlds within you to allow us a taste.  It can be rather addictive, especially for younger demons who have not yet had enough millennia to control their hunger.”

His pupils dilate in the dark as he refocuses his gaze.  His eyes meet yours and linger for a moment before slowly drawing down to your parted lips.  “You are a rare case indeed.  More potent in your divinity than the average human, but not enough to hurt.”

You quirk a smile at him.  “Barbatos, are you saying I’m irresistible?”

It is a joke, one you feel comfortable making because of its ridiculousness.  But then he gives you a smile you’ve never seen before that makes your stomach drop and your body awash with heat.  There’s a directness in it, a challenge presented in a wry upward turn of the lips and the glint of teeth in the faint starlight.

“Perhaps,” he says.

You try to brush him off with a scoff and break eye contact, feigning interest in the shape of the black leaves that arch over the both of you in the darkness.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” you mutter.

“Oh? You don’t believe me,” he comments. “Perhaps there is more I can do to convince you then.”

Your heartbeat falters, tripped by hope, and you keep your eyes above and around lest you combust right in front of him. 

“Convince me?” you question.

You’re attempting to feign indifference, to protect yourself from the inevitable rejection you know is coming, because surely he’s not... he doesn’t mean.... he wouldn’t... that look in his eyes earlier... affection yes, but that can mean anything...

Barbatos takes your chin in his fingers and pulls gently until you have nowhere else to look but directly at him. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, into him.  There’s a flicker there, a glow of swirling green, like nebulae trapped within his vastness.

“Indeed,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath upon your parted lips.  You realize he’s closer than you anticipated, closer than ever before.

 Your lightheadedness is returning, and your genuinely afraid you’ll faint, so you force yourself to keep speaking.

“What kind of convincing?” you ask.

He smiles that smile again, the one that turns your insides molten.  “The kind that doesn’t require words, since you seem to doubt them so fervently.” 

His thumb draws gently across your lower lip, his half-lidded gaze transfixed.  “Would you like to be convinced?” he mutters.

You swallow and answer honestly. 

“Yes.”

Barbatos’s eyes return to yours and his lips curl into a soft, genuine smile.  He closes what’s left of the distance, his warm lips capturing yours as his fingers release your chin in favor of gently cupping your jawline.

You close your eyes and reciprocate, your hand resting against his chest.

It’s gentle, soft, and for all of his heavy flirting just a moment ago, it is as unassuming as when he’d first held your hand.  It washes away the last dredges of worry, calms the ever-present unease that always lingers.  The clouds of your mind finally part, even if just for this moment, and for the first time in a long while, you feel feather-light as a peaceful warmth spreads from head to toe to the tips of your fingers.

When your lips part, Barbatos keeps his hand on your cheek and plants a gentle peck to your forehead.

“Now, believe me when I say you are beautiful.  Believe me when I say that you are good.  And most importantly, believe me when I say that I am always here for you.”

Your choked by emotion, your eyes once again burning, but this time for a different reason entirely.

“Even when I’m being sad and pathetic?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly.

Barbatos  puts his forehead against yours as his lips curve into a tender smile.

“Especially then.”

[tapestryundone]

constantly thinking abt the long quiet and the shifting mound and their relationship w humanity. because the two are very much not mortal and even in the what happens next ending its very ambiguous if they ever WILL be or Can be. but even still they have both felt what its like to be mortal

i feel like its vague if the entity the two used to be even percieved its own existence. the way the narrator talks about it makes it seem like the two only existed conceptually and as a result lacked a complete sense of identity, and didnt need to, and wouldnt want to. but in the same way a thought cannot be unthought, the narrator gave them a glimpse into what it felt like to be mortal and the two can never un-know it, even if it wasnt exactly the same

the long quiet in particular seems especially tied to humanity and in some aspects seems to want to BE human (which feels so potent given how decidedly Not human he is). the game tends to imply that every option you get is a thought he DOES have, and in the spaces between, the choices dont seem as influenced by a given voice, which highlights even more how much he feels conflicted on his own nature that he gets Multiple options to express discomfort with himself being a god

it just gets to me how one of the options during the fight is literally "appeal to your shared humanity". because even if the two are gods, their separation and reshaping has given them humanity that they can never un-feel. for how much the shifting mound grieves what she once was, she cannot will her humanity away. shes mourning what the two of them once was and is desperate to have it back at any cost, even though they can never be together how they once were.

even if the long quiet goes with her, theyre still apart and lack balance, because the two once just Were and werent two parts. they werent both halves, they werent two concepts, they were just one concept that happened to, by human eyes, consist of two halves. and the narrators insertion of humanity into the mix in order to separate them, separating them into concepts that humans understood, manually put into existence a struggle for equilibrium where that balance had simply Existed

but theyve already perceived what felt like reality and can never un-see it. they were separated and Need the other to feel whole and for reality to BE whole but the moment that either of them realized their own free will, the moment the two fully came to feel like people, they could never be together the same way once again

im struggling to come up with a metaphor that isnt silly but its like if you took a piece of fabric and cut it in two and made them both into shirts. youve added a piece of humanity into them and doing so cost its original form. to take them apart and try to put them back together would never get you the original, whole piece of fabric back, because theyve been completely changed by their own unique destruction and reconstruction

they were separated in a way that gave them humanity that they have such conflicting feelings on. both seem to have a deep love of humanity but vastly different ideas on what humanity needs to thrive, because its in their natures

in order to get one to kill the other the narrator let the long quiet interpret the both of them as mortal. and for a being of perception and an god thats being lied to, this became part of their limited view of the world, on top of all the other reasons that the two gained humanity. the long quiet couldnt be told what to do if he didnt have the ability to potentially act on the narrators desires, and the shifting mound could never die if the long quiet didnt believe her to be capable of death

the narrator gave the two humanity and the shifting mound is very reasonably distressed by this. because the two of them never asked for this but they cant undo it. it is her OWN subtle desire for things to be the same as they used to be, her own piece of that stagnation that also led to her experiencing humanity, that makes her so adamant during the fight. she misses the long quiet and wants to undo a change that cannot be undone in search of a constant state of being that was taken from her

and the long quiet felt so closely tied to mortality, both its existence and absence, that no matter what, he wants to aid humanity. but hes been lied to and denied autonomy to the point where he doesnt know what that entails. but he wants to be a part of it. he was given fake mortality and cant seem to figure out how he feels

the shifting mound is set in how she feels it best to aid in the existence of life. she is stagnant in her feelings because its all that feels right to her. the long quiet is ever-shifting in how he feels it best to aid in the existence of life. he is changing in his feelings because its all that feels right to him

getting to the heart of the shifting mound allows them a moment to discuss it as the closest they can get to mortals. the two care about their impact on life and what it means to be alive and what better way for the two of them to truly decide what they want to do about it, outside of the conflict thats been forced between them, than as the mortals they never were?

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 30-33 Commentary

No meta, just reactions! I have less to say about some eps so I'm combining several episodes worth. To make up for my head-emptiness and lack of meta, I've included more pictures lmao. Spoilers under the cut!

Ep 30:

"You really are pitiful." Li Lun waking up thinking of ZYC's words oooh they did that opening line for Li Lun/ZYC lovers (me)

What a homoerotic way to give the Truth Eye

ZYC and ZYZ having their first drink(s) together here, ZYZ and Li Lun having one last game of chess here. Gay ppl will go “I know a place” and take you to a damp cave and a little stone table in the Wilderness

Oof. The apparent inherence of winning/losing in their activity of choice compared to the drinks that took place here between ZYC and ZYZ. Even with a draw, it’s competitive by nature. If Li Lun knew about the three (very intense, very intimate) toasts that came before in this very spot, I wonder how aggrieved he’d feel.

Ah well there goes the date spot /:

I’m so happy to see LZY (Bai Jiu’s actor) get to fight! His fight scenes in MTJY were awesome and he continues to impress here as well. It’s so fun to watch!

………..to revisit my question from previous commentary about when the grievances against Ying Lei will end, the answer is never ;-;

Damn…For ZYC to promise to spare Li Lun after all that Li Lun has put him through specifically and personally. ZYC really fucking loves ZYZ doesn’t he.

I’m so fucked up over Ying Lei’s last words jesus christ.

ZYC sobbing and feeling the fleeting warmth of the rock Ying Lei was just leaning against…when will the world stop taking away his family members??? His brothers???

That scene of everyone looking at Bai Jiu after Ying Lei dissipates. The fact that he's right there. And it’s like they traded one life for another. The two babies of the group. Goddammit.

Do NOT hit me with Bai Jiu’s actor singing “Broken-Tailed Bird” right now oh my god

So like…regarding ZYZ losing his demonic power, does he still count as the most evil demon of ZYC’s time? Can someone ring Ying Long and ask?

ZYC crybaby oh no I can’t believe he’s crying over ZYZ being so weakened aw I love him

My god, Bai Jiu running after Ying Lei and into ZYC’s arms has to be one of my favorite sequences in the whole show. So so good. So so painful. Between this scene, all the flashbacks, and ZYC’s reaction when he died, I’m at least glad the show is spending so much screen time and significance on Ying Lei’s send-off, even if I’m heartbroken that he’s gone. We couldn’t even have the whole family reunited for one moment.

Also have you ever seen a man so mother?

No but seriously "Cry if you want...[tears] have to do with our hearts" ZYC my healthy masculinity king!!!

This song fucking hurtssssssssss this cheese (it's buttermilk) hurts everything hurts

I’m glad PSJ gets time and space to react. Her lines about being a mortal and not being needed are so good but also ow!!! And oh WX always knows exactly what to say to her 🥹

I love everything ZYC says to Bai Jiu about each family member (like yeahhh WX is unlucky 😭 and yeaahHH PSJ does need support too) but MAN the way he says ZYZ’s name is so fucking good. The fact that it gets so much emotion across without saying a single word further as he gets interrupted. His voice and his expression both collapsing a little in that moment. Efficiency of acting strikes again.

Is it even possible for ZYC to cherish this little family more?

Yo this dramatic ass lighting on ZYZ and ZYC standing in the doorway. Why y’all need so much drama just to talk? Also oughhhh ZYC’s gaze is a mess looking every which way while discussing WX’s poison. He is such a bad liar (but he looks so good doing it). Is that why they gotta talk about this like ten feet apart so ZYZ can’t see him lying? Lmao

Okay also tho if ZYC's coming around looking like this I am not hearing a single thing he's saying:

They flashed back to the previous time ZYC held his hand out but cut away from ZYZ taking it this time. Is it bc the absolutely unfettered tension between them can’t pass censors anymore? Haha god but that shot of ZYC slowly meeting ZYZ’s eyes from ZYZ’s POV whewwww we don’t got the skinship but their gazes are kind of insane??? TJR in blue contacts is too powerful I'm shaking somebody needs to stop him.

Ep 31:

Trying so hard not to be driven a little crazy by the lapses in continuity in this show (‘: It’s just tonal and costuming stuff that are a little difficult for me to ignore, just the fact that it’s kind of apparent which scenes were filmed in what order based on their costume/styling changes + the sets, and how sometimes the tone from the previous events don’t smoothly carry over because of this. But it's momentary, I just gotta. Power through.

YO the Pei siblings sparring was so cool and for what. They should have had WX spectating instead of staring at nothing in the previous scene (-:

Damn how long has it been since they played the fun music. Also feels kind of wrong without Ying Lei though fml

Awwww Qing Geng I missed her she’s so cute!! I wasn't doing ep commentaries during her arc so I gotta make up for it here. Her actress is so talented and adorable, and her costuming in this show is stunning!! Her lashes!! Her colors!!

THE TREE BRANCHES lmfaooo ZYC what happened to being worried for ZYZ’s weak body?? We really haven't had a moment like this in so long though (':

Well I do like the reason why WZY had a fake out death, that’s pretty clever and narratively sound, but also oh god what in the AOT??? The inner cores hidden in the medicine is some odious fucking work dear lord

I also like that the endgame is coming about from what initially seemed like another small-time case. Of course the evil physician's huge scheme at the end weaponizes plague and poison and medicine.

Ayeee fun that they used the teleporter on WZY instead of as a getaway

Lmfao ZYC just standing there taking a huge hit of the poison smoke. Poor baby doesn’t watch movies and doesn’t know smoke from a bad guy always means some kind of poison

Why does poisoned!ZYC have such an incredible smokey-eye siren look I’m shook

After knowing the poison is about indulging in your greatest wishes, the first moment ZYC woke up and approached ZYZ they sure looked like they were about to indulge in something sorry ignore me

The way this is so similar to ZYZ’s imaginings where he and WX always turn around and look at the camera. The show wants censors to believe they’re looking at ZYZ but we've known all along who the third POV is here

Also why aren’t ZYC’s bro and dad in the wish illusion?

Ohh the eerie instrumental rendition of the OST when ZYC draws his sword is too good. And yesss we were so due for some more crazy dream fuckery like is this real? Is this real??

Ep 32:

The team is spread so thin )-: One man (mountain god) down and a whole town to save and an immortal villain to vanquish.

WZY's eagerness in trying to goad ZYC into killing himself while poisoned is so so sinister goddamn. I love how disturbing it is to slowly realize what he wants without any lines at all

ZYZ shielding ZYC from a huge fucking fireball with just his hand is adorable and sad:

I already normally love Li Lun's whole leaf-swirly entrances and exits but you know I cheered when he deus ex machina-ed his way here!!! With that bgm too!!!

Li Lun came back to accept ZYC into their throuple. He's had some time to think and yeah he's decided ZYC's kinda hot and maybe shouldn't die or else ZYZ will be sad.

):

ZYC's soft and anguished, "Qing Geng" when he realizes she gave him her inner core. That's my bleeding heart hero ;-;

Throuple of the fucking yearrrrrr:

Spoiler for ep 33/34 but—watching Bai Jiu watch the three of them and realize he can't do anything to help here... It would have been dangerous for him to stay, but I wonder if things could have ended differently ):

Ep 33:

Oughhhhh Pei Siheng ))): The cruel fucking poetry of PSJ, the most emotionally closed-off character, having her heart, her brother, made into her armor. And then to lose him once more.

ZYC proving time and again that his heart is entirely boundless and he'll shelter anyone from the rain and he just wants everyone to live:

LI LUN/ZYC LOVERS HOW ARE WE FEELIN'?!?

Did not expect MORE ZYC choking now that they're on the same side but yeah Li Lun is not one to let go of a good thing I get it. I'm screaming but I get it. "I'm giving you half my demonic power" yeah right just admit you like doing this dw Li Lun this is a safe space.

Literally what am I watching and also no don't mind me, keep going. Feral over ZYC dropping his hand and letting it happen.

But lmfao the way Li Lun did not need to be doing all that, like he sends his power out to ZYZ without even making physical contact. He could've just grabbed ZYC by the shoulder.

Can't believe I just keep winning:

ZYC didn't even know what Li Lun was doing putting his arms around him and he just let it happen. That's some next level trust.

Ah goodbye Li Lun, presumably another victim of the "(ex-)villains can't have good endings" brand of censorship

Oof I love that the initial horror after the seeming victory is reserved first for the simple fact that ZYC and ZYZ are separated, that ZYC can't go to him the way he was intending to. Even when it's unclear yet that WZY is still alive, just the wrongness of them being divided this way is so poignant. ZYC has such a helpless look about him when he says ZYZ's name.

Goddammit WZY saw Li Lun choke ZYC and got ideas.

Oh I love the uncertainty of whether the One-Word Spell works on ZYC or not. ZYZ's sudden and intense fear. Also though WZY tries to use ZYC dying as a deterrent for ZYZ blowing up the barrier but he's literally choking the life out of ZYC as we speak

Bai Jiu's completely unrestrained screaming and crying in pain is so brutal to listen to. His scenes go on forever. Also, the choice of having some of his flashbacks be blurred and vague in the background, once again something privately kept for the character

ZYC holding out his hand to ZYZ a third time ;-; The utter relief of being able to reach each other again paralleling that previous horror of separation.

ZYC physically feeling Bai Jiu's death oh god. We do not get a single moment of happiness and victory in this drama everything is bought with pain and returns pain I hate it here.

Also another post-finale thought (spoilers for the end of the drama)—If ZYZ remained in his weakened state, I really am curious if he would have still met the conditions of the prophecy (ZYC being cursed to kill the most evil demon of his time, if the prophecy is indeed conditional like that, of course). If that could have been a technical loophole, did Li Lun giving both of them his power and then ZYC giving ZYZ his as well basically fulfill it again? I mean, logistically speaking, without that extra power, I'm not sure if ZYZ would have been able to trigger the Baize cycle again (or whatever it is he did to save the town). So the show's final tragedy can be traced all the way back to these moments of giving out of love and protection, just as Bai Jiu being in the perfect place for his final sacrifice came about because ZYC, ZYZ, and Li Lun were trying to protect him and get him out of danger. The way love and grief are so helplessly, inevitably intertwined that one begets the other. They were all just trying to save each other.

On that completely painful note, that's 30-33! And it'll be downhill from here for the next one (-:

[yanderes-galore]

What do you think of this idea for a scenario? Reader losing their soul to Overlord! Husk in a poker game. It will be amazing if the reader starts as arrogant, thinking they can beat the cat in his own game. Then, after an intense match, their confidence turns to fear and regret when Husk puts the last card on the table and shows that he has won.

Warning, I know NOTHING about poker, so this might be short as I can't do any specifics :( Yet I hope I get my point across.

House Always Wins

Yandere! Overlord! Husker Scenario

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Ownership, Soul deals, Forced relationship implied.

Gambling is a pass time for many demons. Greed breeds arrogance and many Sinners tend to show off at the casino. You were no different...

Poker's your favorite game.

Money is a common thing to bet. You've bet tons of it and been confident in your craft. You've won many games... It's all just a fun game.

But, of course, greed drives people to get addicted...

You needed to up the stakes.

For a long time you have been trying to get yourself to Overlord status. Demons naturally crave power. Sinners wish to become Overlords... Overlords wish to become stronger...

It's a social ladder.

Confidence is such a poisonous emotion. It only brings in trouble to those who have too much of it. Having a little isn't too bad... but too much can cloud your judgment.

Husker could practically smell you as a potential challenge.

Husker had been hearing rumors of a Sinner trying to make it big in the casino. He's an Overlord who frequents this place and considers it his territory in a way. So the idea of someone else being a threat to his title...

He certainly felt he should look into it.

During your games you had always felt you had eyes on you. Your feelings were confirmed when you turned one day to see Husker watching you with intrigued eyes. He enjoys watching your games, shuffling his cards thoughtfully as his tail sways.

What a tantalizing Sinner you are... acting like you run the place....

If you want to move up in Hell's social ladder, challenging an Overlord is certainly the way to go. The idea of power... of feeding your ego... it's a temptation sweeter than any vice. As tension grows between you and the Overlord... you feel as though you're being drawn in...

Eventually, you get up from your seat, strolling to the Overlord's table before leaning on the table.

"How about we play a game?"

A bold move coming from you... dangerous too.... However, Husker didn't mind. You looked like a fun prize to toy with.

"How about we make it a deal, then?" Husker's voice is a purr as he considers your offer. You merely grin back, confidence flowing through your veins with no drinks needed.

Or... not many.

"If you win, I'll give you my soul... If I win I get your title as Overlord."

It's a bold deal, one that makes Husker laugh. Eventually he calms down, shaking your hand lightly before gesturing to sit. He could tell you were confident...

Too confident, actually.

Your naiveté is adorable.

"A fine deal... Hope you provide a good challenge to back up all that talk." Husker chuckles, readjusting his suit as he watches you sit. "Make this worth my while, will you?"

It's then chips are put out... cards are placed...

Then the game begins.

Husker finds your arrogance adorable. There's times he himself feels this way when it comes to gambling. However... He knows how to control himself for the most part...

You do not.

You are such a fun challenge for the cat. He's been trying to see how challenging you'd be since he first saw you. Now he's quite pleased to see you in action...

Even more pleased to see your confidence slowly crumble as he beats you round after round.

Each round Husker manages to slap down the winning hand. Each round he takes more chips. Each round you begin to realize what you signed up for.

"Cat got your tongue?" The Overlord in front of you teases, leaning on the table as you struggle to look at your hand. "Where's all that confidence gone? You have such a cute look on your face when you think you're going to win...."

By the last round, you can't even bring yourself to watch as Husk puts down the last card. It's a winning hand and you know it. You can hear Husker chuckle at your sudden meek behavior...

You know what comes next...

Especially when you feel a chain click around your neck, Husker looking all proud of himself.

"According to my deal, you get to be my prize." Husker grins, fangs glinting as he yanks on the soul chain.

"It was a good game, don't you think? Always great to exploit over confident fools... You put up a good fight though." Husker praises as you're brought close to him.

"Thanks for playing..." Husker purrs, claws caressing your cheek as though he's studying a precious gem...

"I think I'll enjoy my new prize, darling."

[lovisyandereblog]

Yan!Android × Creator!Darling- I just can't get it out my mind... like, you created them. You're ✨️god✨️

I can keep going on this idea for a looong time, maybe next time haha

My English might not be the best, not my native language :D May I be the ⚜️Anon?

Wired Heart

Yandere Android X NON-BINARY Creator [Scientist] Reader

Part 1 <3

Guys big shout out to whoever wrote this ask cause it was one of the first asks I got and I kept postponing it, i love this ask smmmmm i hope its up to your expectations😭😭 and of course you can be ⚜️anonnnn IT TOOK ME FIVE WHOLE MINUTES TO FIND THIS EMOJI!!!!

The whirring of the machinery snapped you out of your thoughts.

Who knew building such an intricate and sophisticated robot took so long?

Sitting before you on your laboratory table was a beautiful android, so gorgeous it almost surprised you that you were its creator. Its jet black hair was soft to the touch, a lean yet muscular frame and those glowing red eyes.

You smile to yourself, hands on your hips as you admire your own creation; he was indeed beautiful.

‘Time to turn it on! Im so excited!’ You thought to yourself, wiping the sweat of your forehead.

You brought your finger to its power button, taking a deep breath before pressing it promptly.

Its bright red eyes opened immediately, you stared at it excitedly as it adjusted to its controls.

“Greetings Master. It’s lovely to finally meet you.” The AI spoke, smiling gently as its smooth voice filled the room.

“Hello Xander, the feeling is mutual.” You smile and can’t stop revelling in the glory of bringing to life such an intricate robot.

Xander was an amazing assistant for you, always there to help with any duty assigned to him. His features, expressions and ministrations were so life-like, sometimes you felt as if the robot in front of you was real.

He was the first prototype for the business you were aiming to start: a company which sold human-like AI to act as partners for lonely people.

An inquisitive idea you were taking advantage of since, let’s face it, millions of people craved a partner in this world.

Your robots would do everything a real partner would do: shower them with affection, spend quality time with them and basically ensure the customer doesn’t feel like it was a robot.

Weeks passed, you felt weary. There was always this feeling in your stomach; something was wrong. You felt a pair of eyes piercing through your skull all of the time. Your creation had been acting weird recently; almost as if it became a sentient being.

Xander would want to be with you 24/7, he would ask constant questions in regards to where you were going, who you were with and how long you were going to be; it became immensely suffocating.

Even your friends and family commented on the nature of your robot, that he seemed more than just your AI helper. They said at time it seemed as though he actually was your real human boyfriend—you kept brushing it off, but the truth of the matter was that you were questioning Xander’s intentions too.

Your robot did take care of you so well: cooking for you, cleaning for you, nursing you back to health when you were sick and tending to your every beck and call.

But you felt uneasy, his touch would linger on you for far too long—not a random touch but one of longing. The way his eyes would follow your every move with were a sense of affection. It was scary.

And thats why you took the long-awaited decision to terminate Xander—it broke your heart to do this, but Xander was taking control of your whole life.

You swallow as you walk into your workspace, looking at Xander on charging. His eyes were closed, hiding that crimson gaze of his. Your eyes ran all over his features, taking them in one by one before sighing.

Your hands worked skilfully on the keyboard of your computer, bringing up the data of Xander on the screen. You had already made a terminate control to be used in dire emergency situations…could this count as one?

You turn your head to look at the side of Xander’s face before bringing the cursor to hover over the big red control which read TERMINATE.

Your finger was inches away from pressing down on the left side of the mouse before a sharp pain evolved in your wrist—you gasped in pain before looking up at the cause.

Xander. Wait…Xander?!

Those bloodshot eyes of his were wide open, his perfect features looked tense; as if he really felt the pain of being eradicated from existence from the very being who gave him life.

You had no words, this can’t be real. He had no control over gaining consciousness during his charging period without your authority.

But here he was, his expression morphed into one of rage.

“Master. What are you doing?” His voice was cold, but you swore you could hear a hint of hurt.

You stared up at him, your wrist in an iron grip which you couldn’t get out of.

Your creation leaned down further, his perfect face inches away from you, “Do not ignore me Master, you are hurting me.”

His voice was broken, hoarse and upset; he couldn’t fathom why you would do something like this to him. He had been so good for you, he did everything you asked from him and never let you complain.

Xander felt his chest hurt, this wasn’t what he was created for. But he couldn’t help what was happening to him; his growing feelings, no, love and obsession he felt for you couldn’t be stopped.

“X-Xander you..you…you’re..h-how..” You could barely form a sentence, your brain still not processing what was happening in front of you. You must have just been sleep-deprived and imagined this situation for yourself. Yes..that was definitely what had happened…this wasn’t real.

“Im yours Master, how could you throw me away like this?!”

You had no words when suddenly he wrapped his arms around you, locking you in his arms; being made of metal still didn’t stop his hug being disturbingly comfortable.

You tried pushing away but there was no way you could escape his grip, you had taken over his wired heart; the sole reason from these unusual feelings he was having.

“You made me Master, but I won’t let you get rid of me.” He spoke, his voice slightly muffled by your shoulder he was nuzzling into, “We will be together…”

“Forever~”

BROOOO IM FINALLY DONEEEEE. Sorry this is so short, I still don’t know how to extend this but im working on other stories aswell!! I love you all so much and have missed you<33333333333

my masterlist <3

divider by @ohmarigold

[kathlare]

shifting focus

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: After a disappointing race in Belgium, Lando struggles with the weight of unmet expectations and the pressure of his performance. Alone in the airport lounge, he finds comfort in a heartfelt conversation with Amelie, who offers him support and perspective. Her words help him regain clarity, reminding him of the bigger picture and the importance of the journey over individual setbacks.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: fluff

July 28th, 2024 - Spa, Belgium

Lando sat in the sleek, modern airport lounge, his back against the plush armchair, his fingers absentmindedly tapping the armrest. The hum of distant conversations and the clinking of coffee cups around him did little to mask the thoughts swirling in his head. He stared out the large windows, watching the planes taxiing across the tarmac, heading to destinations he couldn’t care less about at the moment. All he wanted was to escape the noise, to shut out the disappointment of the Belgian Grand Prix that had just ended.

He had started in P5, hopeful that this could be the race where McLaren could make a real impact, but a poor strategy, some bad timing, and the usual unpredictability of racing had seen him drop two places to finish in P7. It wasn’t the disaster some might expect, but to him, it felt like a failure—a missed opportunity. The weight of the result pressed on his chest, the frustration eating at him.

Lando’s phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking his thoughts. He pulled it out, his fingers still slightly stiff from the frustration of the race, and saw a text.

Max Fewtrell: You good, mate? Heard you’re pretty pissed about the race. If you wanna talk, I’m here.

He frowned, but didn’t reply. Max meant well, but he didn’t want to explain everything again. Everyone expected him to brush it off, to keep smiling, to pretend it didn’t matter. But it did. Every time he failed, every time he didn’t live up to the expectations, the criticism became louder, and the weight on his shoulders heavier.

He put the phone back in his pocket and leaned back into the chair, running his hand through his hair in frustration. It was becoming hard to push through the disappointment. His thoughts drifted to Amelie. She was still in Indianapolis filming, and he hadn’t been able to talk to her properly since he left for Belgium. He wanted to tell her how badly the race had gone, to vent—to get it all off his chest. But he didn’t want to burden her while she was busy.

Another buzz from his phone interrupted his thoughts.

Ames💛: I know you’re probably not feeling great, but talk to me? I’m here if you need me.

Lando’s heart skipped a beat at the message. Even though they were miles apart, her words always had a way of grounding him. He stared at the screen for a few seconds before replying, his fingers hesitant.

Lan🧡: It’s just one of those races, you know? I’m fine. Don’t want to drag you into it.

He stared at the message, waiting for her response, his thumb hovering over the send button. The words felt hollow even as he typed them. He wasn’t fine. He was far from it. But he didn’t want to let her see that.

A few moments passed, then the screen lit up with her reply.

Ames💛: You don’t have to pretend with me, Lando. I’m not going to judge you, just talk to me. Please?

Lando stared at her message for a long moment, his chest tightening as the weight of it all pressed in. He had become so used to putting on a brave face, to dealing with everything alone. It had become second nature to him, a protective mechanism to shield himself from vulnerability. But Amelie... she always saw through it.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, then typed back, his fingers more deliberate this time.

Lan🧡: Okay, I’ll call you. I don’t know why I keep trying to act like everything’s fine.

The phone rang almost immediately, and within seconds, her voice came through the speaker, warm and comforting despite the distance between them.

—Lando,— Amelie said, her tone soft but steady, —I’m here. What’s going on?—

He let out a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts, but the frustration bubbled up before he could hold it back. —It’s just... this race. I started P5, and I felt like we had a shot at something better. But it all just slipped away. Poor strategy, bad timing, and now I’m sitting here feeling like I failed.— His voice broke slightly, the words feeling heavier than he expected.

—Lando...— she whispered, her voice full of empathy. —You didn’t fail. It’s racing, babe. It’s unpredictable, and you gave it everything. Sometimes things don’t go the way you plan, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your best.—

He ran a hand through his hair again, staring at the floor. —I know. I just... I want to do better. For the team. For everyone who’s been supporting me. But it feels like every time I get close, something goes wrong.—

—I get it,— she said, her voice soothing. —It’s like you’re so close to the dream, but then it slips away, and it makes you feel like it’s not enough. But listen to me, Lando. You’re not defined by one race or one result. You’re so much more than that. You’re talented, you’re hardworking, and you’ve got a heart that cares about everything you do.—

The words made him feel a little lighter, but the doubt still gnawed at him. —I don’t know. Sometimes it just feels like I’m chasing something that’s always out of reach—

Amelie paused for a moment, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice when she spoke again. —Maybe it’s not about chasing perfection, Lando. Maybe it’s about chasing the journey. The progress. The little victories. You’re living your dream, and yeah, it’s hard sometimes, but that’s what makes it worth it. You’re not meant to have it all figured out.—

He leaned back in his chair, letting her words sink in. She always had this way of cutting through the noise and making him see things in a clearer light. His thoughts slowed as he listened to her, her voice the calm in the storm of his mind.

—You’re right,— he said quietly, a soft chuckle escaping him. —I get so caught up in the end goal that I forget to appreciate everything that’s led me here. You always know how to make me feel better, Ames.—

—That’s what I’m here for,— she said, her tone playful now. —You don’t have to carry all of it on your own, you know? We’re a team in this, just like you are with McLaren. Even when you’re far away, I’ve got your back.—

Lando smiled, feeling his mood start to lift. Her support was everything, and he knew it. —I don’t know what I’d do without you, seriously. But I’m glad we’re almost at the end of this week. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.—

Amelie’s voice softened, and Lando could practically hear her smile through the phone. —I can’t wait either. It feels like it’s been forever. I’m already counting down the hours until I get to see you, and then... Ibiza and Greece? I’m so excited for everything we’ve planned. It’s going to be perfect.—

He let out a sigh of relief, the weight on his chest finally starting to ease. —Yeah, I’ve been dreaming about that break. Sun, sea, and you. Sounds like everything I need right now.—

Amelie laughed, a sound that made his heart flutter even from across the world. —Well, I’d like to think I’m the highlight of the trip, but I’m sure the beaches will be nice too.—

Lando laughed, his mood lightening further. —Definitely you, Ames. You’re the best part of everything, always.—

Lando leaned back in his chair, the weight of the conversation sinking in. He had always been one to keep his struggles to himself, but there was something about Amelie that made it easy to open up, even when he didn’t want to. It wasn’t just the way she listened; it was how she understood him without him needing to say everything.

He could almost see her now, her warm smile lighting up her face, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

—You know what?— Lando said, a grin tugging at his lips. —After this race, I think I deserve a bit of a break, and you’re right... I can’t wait to just relax with you. Forget about all the racing stuff for a little while, just enjoy us being together.—

—Exactly, Lando,— Amelie replied, her voice soft but filled with anticipation. —You’ve been working so hard, and you deserve some time to just breathe. Plus, we’ve got a whole summer ahead of us. Just imagine... waking up in Ibiza, no schedules, no races, just us. It’s going to be amazing.—

Lando let out a contented sigh, the image of their upcoming trip settling in his mind. He could picture the two of them lying on the beach, laughing, enjoying each other’s company, free from the chaos of their busy lives. It was everything he needed after the grind of the season.

Lando sat up straighter in the chair, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing. For the first time today, he felt lighter, his frustration from the race beginning to slip away as the promise of tomorrow grew nearer.

Lando chuckled, a light sound that carried a sense of contentment. —You’re always so good at making everything feel better. I don’t know how you do it, but... I’m really grateful for you, Ames.—

—Well, you’ve got to give me some credit for being amazing, right?— she teased, her tone playful now. He could imagine her smiling as she spoke, the image making him feel even more connected to her despite the distance. —But seriously, Lando, you’ve got so much on your plate, and I just want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter what. You’re not alone in this.—

The words felt like a balm to his racing thoughts, and Lando took a deep breath, finally feeling like he could exhale fully. —I know. And I’ll never stop being thankful for that. You’ve been my rock, even from halfway across the world.—

There was a brief pause before Amelie spoke again, her voice soft and intimate. —I know it’s hard, but we’re in this together. Even when things get tough, we’ve got each other. And tomorrow... when I see you, everything will feel right again. I can’t wait to be in your arms.—

Lando’s smile widened at the thought, a genuine warmth filling him at the image of their reunion. —I can’t wait either. Just a few more hours, and I’ll finally get to hold you.—

—Every second of it.— She sighed softly, and he could almost feel the longing in her voice. —You’ll see. When I finally get there, we’ll make up for all the time we’ve missed. Ibiza, Greece... everything will be perfect. I just need you, Lando. That’s all I’ve been thinking about for days now.—

—Same here.— He leaned back in his chair again, his eyes closing for a moment as the weight of the conversation sank in. Everything felt right now. They were a team, no matter how far apart they were. He couldn’t wait for the chaos of the Grand Prix to end for a while, to step away from the pressure and focus on what mattered most—his love for Amelie.

—Tomorrow, then,— Lando said, his voice steady and filled with anticipation. —Tomorrow, we get to start our break, and it’s going to be everything we’ve dreamed of.—

—And I’ll be there, right by your side. No more distractions, just us. You’ll see.—

Lando smiled, his heart lighter than it had been all day. —I’ll hold you to that, Ames. I’ll see you soon.—

As they said their goodbyes, Lando finally felt a sense of peace. The disappointment of the Belgian Grand Prix still lingered in the back of his mind, but it no longer had the same weight. He had Amelie, and that was all that mattered. The world could wait—tomorrow, he would be with her, and everything would feel right again.

Lando stood up, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. The jet would be ready soon, and for the first time today, he was looking forward to going home. To Monaco. To her. Everything else could wait.

[dissapointu]

Jinx x Shy and Quiet Reader Headcannons

1. Breaking Through Your Shell

Jinx is all energy, and she thrives on pulling you out of your comfort zone. From the moment she met you, she made it her personal mission to see what makes you tick. If you’re shy or hesitant, she doesn’t take it as rejection—she just sees it as a challenge. “C’mon, don’t be all quiet and mysterious! What’s going on in that head of yours?” she teases, grinning as she pokes your cheek.

2. Affectionately Overwhelming You

Jinx isn’t subtle when it comes to affection, and that includes her interactions with you. She’ll fling herself across the room just to hug you or tug you into her lap, completely ignoring your protests. “What? You’re comfy!” She doesn’t care if you’re blushing or squirming; in fact, she finds it adorable and will only hold on tighter.

3. Talking Enough for Both of You

If you’re shy and quiet, Jinx more than makes up for it by doing all the talking. She’ll ramble about her day, her ideas, and whatever chaos she’s planning next, pausing occasionally to get your reaction. “You’re listening, right? Good, ‘cause I’ve got this amazing plan! Wanna hear it?” Your small responses make her grin, and she always makes you feel like your quiet input matters.

4. Encouraging You to Speak Up

Jinx loves hearing your voice, even if you’re hesitant to talk. She’ll wait for those little moments when you feel comfortable enough to share something and hang on to every word like it’s the most important thing in the world. “Wait, say that again? That was so cute,” she’ll say, smirking as she leans in closer.

5. Protecting You in Her Own Way

Jinx can be a little wild, but she’s fiercely protective when it comes to you. If someone makes you uncomfortable or tries to take advantage of your quiet nature, she’s quick to step in. “Hey, back off, jerk! They’re with me.” She’ll grab your hand and drag you away, grumbling under her breath about how some people have no manners.

6. Playfully Teasing You

Jinx loves teasing you to see your shy reactions. Whether it’s leaning in too close or throwing you a cheeky compliment, she lives for the way you blush or look away. “Aww, are you shy? Don’t be! I think it’s cute!” she’ll say, poking fun but making sure you know she’s just joking.

7. Helping You Feel Safe

As chaotic as she is, Jinx knows how to create a space where you feel comfortable. If she notices you’re overwhelmed, she’ll find a quieter spot for the two of you, offering small reassurances like holding your hand or resting her head on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha. It’s just us now,” she’ll whisper, her voice softer than usual.

8. Making You Laugh

Jinx is a natural at making you laugh, even when you’re feeling anxious or shy. She’ll pull faces, crack ridiculous jokes, or act out little scenes just to see you smile. “There it is! That’s the laugh I was waiting for!” she’ll exclaim, looking proud of herself every time she manages to get a chuckle out of you.

9. Encouraging You to Be Yourself

Jinx loves you for exactly who you are, and she’ll remind you of that constantly. “You don’t have to be loud or crazy like me,” she’ll say, grinning. “I like you just the way you are. Quiet and all.” She makes it clear that your shy and gentle nature is one of the reasons she adores you.

10. Spontaneous Adventures

Even if you’re shy, Jinx loves pulling you into her spontaneous plans. She’ll try to balance her chaos with what she knows you can handle, though. Whether it’s a quiet walk through Zaun’s alleys or a rooftop picnic where no one else is around, she always makes sure you’re comfortable while still having fun.

11. Endless Encouragement

Jinx is your biggest cheerleader, always hyping you up in her unique way. “You’re so much cooler than you think, you know that? Like, seriously. You’re my favorite person in the whole city!” Even if you’re not sure of yourself, Jinx’s enthusiasm makes you believe in yourself a little more each day.

12. Finding Joy in Your Shyness

Jinx genuinely adores your quiet demeanor because it’s so different from her own. She finds your calmness grounding, and she loves the little quirks of your shy personality. “You’re like my little secret weapon—quiet, sweet, and totally awesome,” she’ll say, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

13. Creative Ways to Show Love

Since you’re not always one for big gestures, Jinx finds small, creative ways to show her love for you. She’ll doodle little pictures of the two of you, leave you notes in the most random places, or surprise you with a handmade gadget that’s “totally safe” (you’re not so sure).

14. Soft Moments Amidst the Chaos

Jinx might be chaotic, but when it’s just the two of you, she knows how to slow down and match your energy. She’ll sit close, letting you lean against her as she plays with your fingers or hums a tune. In these moments, you feel like you’re the calm in her storm.

15. Loving You Unconditionally

No matter how shy or quiet you are, Jinx loves you wholeheartedly. She’ll make sure you know how much you mean to her, even if her way of showing it is unconventional. “You’re my favorite person, you know that? Don’t ever forget it.” With Jinx, you never have to pretend to be anything other than yourself.

[im-not-a-sheep]

i decided to rewatch the hazbin pilot and compare it to ep1 of hazbin and idk if im just nostalgic for smth that i used to enjoy much more but god i feel like its noticeable which one is objectivley better

[juaneloriginal]

silly thingy

@blackkatdraws's sillies