#another interpretation to me is that how this is supposed to take place towards the end of Theseus life

[amostcuriousmythicist]

You know out of all the lost plays from Ancient Greece that we only have a few fragments of to get us an idea of what it might have been about. One lost play that has fascinated me at the moment is the play Pirithous, which was written either by Euripides or Critias (depends on who you ask)

We have a few surviving lines as well as the hypothesis, which itself is what makes it so intriguing as it reads like this:

‘Peirithous went with Theseus to Hades to get Persephone as his wife. He was duly punished for this impiety by being bound to a rock by snakes. Theseus, thinking it shameful to abandon his friend, willingly chose to stay in Hades with him, but on his mission to abduct Cerberus, Heracles released both men, by the grace of the gods of the underworld.'

(Source: Theseus, Tragedy, and the Athenian Empire by Sophie Mills)

So essentially the idea that the play presents is that initially, only Pirithous was bounded to the underworld and Theseus actually had the chance to escape, and yet he didn’t. Instead, he willingly chooses to stay behind and be tortured along with his friend. An idea that I don’t think is found anywhere else

The story definitely has very not so subtle message about the importance of friendship, especially when Heracles arrives on the scene and compliments his loyalty to his friend as being “worthy of Athens and of the Athenian hero.”

On the flip side Pirithous gets most of the blame for the attempted abduction, especially since Theseus gets exonerated, with Heracles asking him what excuse he has for the ruin he brought on himself. Based off the surviving fragments we have, Pirithous brings up how his own father Zeus abducted his mother Dia who was married to Ixion. Which is an interesting parallel and possible interesting justification on Pirithous part

The last noteworthy thing to me is how the hypothesis’s says that by the grace of the underworld gods (Hades and Persephone I presume) both Theseus AND Pirithous were released by Heracles. This idea is mentioned by Diodorus in his 1st AD chronicle though only in passing. It’s interesting to see how old it is actually.

Here’s a link to Alessandro Boschi’s analysis of the play if you would like to read more about it:

https://dionysusexmachina.it/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/Boschi.pdf

[nochepsicodelica]

You and Toji are sitting at a table at a bar, talking about different things that went on throughout your days over some drinks. Toji tells you about how Shiu's been a real asshole lately, because his marriage is hanging on by a thread and he hasn't gotten laid in almost a month. He gives you a look that you interpret as him saying 'thank fuck that's not us' to which you respond with a little smirk.

When it's your turn, you tell him about how the new hire broke the copy machine, knocked over and broke the water gallon for the water dispenser, and crashed into someone, spilling hot coffee all over their shirt, all in the course of one day.

"That poor fucker's cursed," Toji says, amusement riddling his expression as he brings his glass of whiskey to his lips.

"He looked like he really needed a hug by the end of the day," you add, biting back a smile, before you take a sip of your own drink.

"Tell me you didn't," Toji says, taking in the seemingly telling look on your face. "Ma."

"I'm kidding. It's jokes, baby. I have no interest in hugging someone I haven't spoken a single word to."

Toji flicks your forehead, watching with a grin as you bring a hand up to rub the sting away. "Gotta piss, be right back, doll. Want another drink before I come back?"

"I'll wait for you to finish yours," you say, to which he nods before standing up from his seat.

"Be right back," Toji repeats, affectionately setting a heavy hand on your head, before he heads off in the direction of the restrooms.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your socials while you wait. Altogether, Toji was gone for no longer than four minutes, and yet somehow, that was enough time for a rando to pull a chair up to your little table and start a conversation with you.

"Hey," he starts. "Why are you sitting here looking all lonely?"

You turn your head to face the person with the unfamiliar voice, slightly widening your eyes as if to question if he's talking to you. He looks at you with raised eyebrows, awaiting your response. "Oh, i'm not here alone. My boyfriend is in the bathroom," you respond, with a polite smile, before returning your attention to your phone.

"Ah. What kind of man leaves a pretty thing like you by herself in a place like this?" The stranger says, in a tone that almost seems pitiful towards you.

You look at him again and attempt to keep your expression neutral. "He'll be back any second now. He's just taking a piss, i'll be fine. Unless you're here to make things troubling for me."

The man chuckles, entertained by your quick shift in tone. "With a feisty attitude like that and a pretty mouth to keep up, it seems like you want me to get you in trouble."

You furrow your eyebrows, blatantly offended by his inappropriate insinuation. It's disturbing to see how he turned your warning into something sexual.

"I already told you, I have a boyfriend. Try someone else," you respond, no longer hiding your irritation.

Toji scans the room for the table you're sitting at, locating you and who-the-fuck in three seconds. This man looks awfully cozy with you, leaning in close every time he speaks to you, so he doesn't stand around any longer and quickly makes his way back to you and this new "friend".

"You sure you don't want another drink, doll?" Toji asks, sitting down in front of you, again, his gaze darting between you and this pocket square looking man. There's a difference between your demeanor from before he left and now. You clearly aren't comfortable, anymore.

"That's it? That is your supposed boyfriend?" The man asks, attempting to minimize Toji by referring to him as if he's nothing in comparison to himself. "Oh, princess. You see this watch?" He asks, raising the cuff of his sleeve to fully reveal his golden watch. "Four thousand dollars, and that's chump change."

You look at Toji and pull his hand into your shaky one, giving him a forced smile. Toji keeps his eyes on yours as the stranger continues spewing arrogant sludge about how much money he makes a year and how even the luxury car he has parked outside didn't put the smallest dent in his wallet.

"You would have it so good with me, baby," he continues blabbering. His hand goes to your wrist, a gesture that Toji quickly puts an end to by aggressively shoving the man's hand away, your empty glass clattering on the table from the force. Toji would have snapped the man's wrist and twisted his hand off, but he didn't want to scare you with the bloodshed. He feels like he's buzzing from the anger bubbling inside, and surely it won't be long before he acts out.

"Don't fucking touch her," Toji spits, glaring at the man with an expression that would have put him six feet under, if looks could kill.

Your heartbeat is in your ears and your blood is boiling. This man is disgusting for being persistent towards someone who doesn't want him. It's masochism, at this point, with the amount of times that you've made it clear that you're not interested.

The man snorts, snobbishly. "He brought you here, of all places. Even just glancing at him, you can tell this cheap ass place is all he can afford. He'll never be able to give you everything you want, so just come with me, doll face."

You rip your hand out of Toji's grasp and stand from your chair, delivering a resounding blow to the man's already hideous face. Tables and chairs wobble as he tries to keep his balance, but when you quickly strike him again, hard enough to increase the pain you felt in your knuckles with that first hit, you manage to knock him onto the ground.

"Fuck you, you fucking asshole. You don't know shit!" You grit out, dropping down to try and land another hit to the man's bleeding face. By now, Toji is behind you, restraining your arms and pulling you back as a small crowd begins to form to observe the commotion.

"Ma, come on. Let's just go."

"Let me dent his fucking face in, Toji," you mutter, writhing in his grip.

The vile man manages to sit up, dabbing his fingertips against his busted lip. Though there is red blossoming on his face, his lips still form an amused, twisted smile. He laughs as he watches you get reeled back by Toji, seething as you are dragged away like a child having a meltdown in the middle of a store.

"Hey-- Hey, I said let's go," Toji says, his tone sharper when you continue to try to break out of his hold to fight the idiotic sociopath.

You take a deep breath and stop, willingly letting Toji take you away from this chaos you created in his defense. His hand rests on the nape of your neck, as he guides you through the stuffy bar and leads you outside to the car.

"Stop pacing," Toji says, watching as you threaten to make the asphalt beneath your feet waste away with every step you take in your heated state.

"Fucking asshole, dickhead, motherfucker." You groan, loudly, furiously, before covering your face with your hands. "It's fine, it's fine," you mumble to yourself.

"Then, stop pacing," he repeats, watching on as you walk the same steps, over and over, as if you're on autopilot. "Ma, eyes. Eyes." His hands go to your shoulders, manually forcing you to halt your movement. "Listen to me. I said eyes."

"I'm so... I can't stand still," you say, weakly.

"Stop looking around. Right here," Toji instructs, lifting one hand from your shoulder and pointing two fingers at his eyes. You release a shaky puff of air and hold his gaze as best as you can.

"Talk when you're ready," he says, following your eyes whenever they derail from his.

You aren't ready soon enough. You feel like your heart is trying to burst out of your chest and the adrenaline coursing through you isn't helping at all. Your hand hurts. Your knuckles feel bruised and they're bloody. The night might be ruined, but you felt your reaction was the only way to release the pain you felt when that nothing started talking the way he did about Toji. All you can think to do is hug Toji to prevent yourself from crying about your cause for attacking the gross man. It's all so much. You've never felt so strongly for someone, to the point where you hit a stranger for insulting them. It's scary how Toji brings that defensive, yet, offensive side out of you.

Strong, heavy arms reciprocate your embrace, keeping your tense body close. You feel warm and safe, his scent and the pressure of his hold managing to slowly calm your unsteady heartbeat. After a few seconds of quietness, you turn your head and rest the side of your face on him, finally prepared to speak.

"I didn't like how he was talking about you, Toji. He was talking shit even before you came back, and I hated it. I hated it so much, that I felt nauseous and if I hadn't done something, I would have been sick."

Toji sighs, not out of disappointment or feelings of that sort, but because you seeking out danger for his sake, was not something he ever wanted to see.

"Doll, you know how much I love you."

This sounds like a layer of sugar preceding a talking to. You're trying not to be nervous before the scolding even begins, but you feel the need to brace yourself, as well.

"I love you, too," you mumble.

Toji knows it. He's known it all along, and the events that transpired tonight were just another way of you proving your love and showing how much he matters to you.

"Want you to look at me," he says, lowering his arms on your back, allowing you to make the space necessary to give him your attention. He offers you a soft smile. "Don't get all fidgety on me after you just ripped a stranger's face open."

"I feel like you're about to yell at me," you say, lowly.

That makes him want to laugh, but he keeps his amusement to a minimum, since you're clearly anticipating something terrible.

"Nah. When have I ever raised my voice at you?"

"Never."

"Exactly. Never, and I won't start now, but I want you to get this through your pretty head... It's not your job to beat people up for me."

"I know, but-"

Toji shakes his head. "Hold on, mama. Let me finish talking, then it'll be your turn."

Your heart feels like it's in the depths of your stomach, but you nod, and allow him to continue talking.

"I'm not mad at you, i'm not gonna yell at you. Just wanna keep you safe, is all. That guy was already a fuckin' weirdo, harassing you like that and trying to get you to go with him while I was right there. I wouldn't be surprised if he was into hitting women, too, if he's so comfortable with making them uncomfortable."

It's quiet while you think of what to say. You don't want this to escalate into something that turns you against each other, when it started out as an act of love. You could argue about how you did this to defend him, but in the end, you know his own need to protect you, will stomp all over your arguments.

"I'm sorry we had to leave, but i'm not sorry for the reason behind it. I don't regret what I did."

"Ma..."

"No, Toji. He didn't even know you and yet he still said things that aren't fair." Your voice quiets down, the beginnings of stronger emotions threatening to outwardly reveal themselves. "He insulted you. He questioned your abilities as my boyfriend when he saw me alone— even after I told him you just went to the bathroom. He judged you superficially, he said you can't give me everything I want and--" you pause, interrupted by a shaky inhale and the painful lump in your throat. "Sorry," you mumble, when the first set of tears roll down your cheeks.

"No, you're alright," Toji says, in response, his warm hands coming up to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your fleeing tears. There's a small pinch in his brows. Why are you crying? It's something he can't ask you, because he knows that if he makes a big spectacle out of it, you'll end up drowning in your tears and shutting down everything you have to say. He resorts to keeping your cheeks dry and encouraging you to keep talking.

"Go on, mama."

You sniff, before picking up where you left off. "I don't care about all that, Toji. I don't care where we go to spend time together, because we're together. I need you, not for you to buy me things or take me to fancy places. That's not what I'm with you for."

Your heart is beating fast, again, its rhythm no longer controlled by fear or nerves, but instead the focus that Toji has on you. He's good at holding eye contact with you, something that occasionally gets distracting if you become too aware of it. You notice that his expression is softer. Maybe it's your brief flash of tears or the way you are always subconsciously finding a way to indirectly recite some of the reasons for why you love him.

"I love you, Toji. That means I won't just sit around and let someone talk about you like you're worthless. And I know, I know you can handle things like this on your own and you don't need me, but it was hard to listen to that."

You pause, as if to give him a break from your bulldozing heart. Silence takes over the moment, both of you just looking at each other. Toji's speechlessness has you wondering if you spilled too much of your heart out to him. You know some things are better left to be figured out, such as the range of a person's love, and yet you just poured without measure. "You can call me crazy if you want to."

Toji's shit-eating grin is unexpected, but it's definitely a sight that lifts some of the heaviness you feel in your chest.

"You love me," Toji says, still smiling like a doofus. He knows your serious facade will crack if he looks at you like this for long enough. He can already see a shift in the expression of your eyes and the way your lips are pressing together just a little more. He tilts his head slightly, a gesture that pushes you even further towards that pretty smile he wants to see. When you finally crack and give into his charm, you do so with a mutter of 'you're so dumb.'

"I'm glad that's what you got out of my rambling," you say, wholeheartedly and in better spirits. Toji pulls you in, this time, his soothing warmth and familiar scent tangling around you, again. His chin rests on top of your head and his arms secure themselves around you, tightly.

"I'm not gonna call you crazy, ma. It's not what I think. Also, don't go saying things that aren't true. I do need you," Toji says, his voice level kept at an intimate volume, as if there are other people there in the parking lot with you. His words are solely meant for you to hear anyway and getting them to you in this manner ensures that you won't go home with your heart feeling heavy, after a talk that was meant to comfort you.

"You know, I don't care what other people think— and that's not to say I don't appreciate you throwing a few punches for my sake. You're a sweetheart and you care so much, but if it's a stranger saying some unimportant, dumb shit, it takes a lot for it to actually get to me. If it really bothered me, they'd be gone."

"Yeah... I know," you mumble, into his shirt, knowing you would do it again and again— countless times. You loosen your arms around Toji and he does the same, his hands dragging towards your waist after you separate.

"How's that hand?" Toji asks, picking your wrist up before you can even respond. He whistles at the sight of the slight swelling and the dry specks of crimson spotted over your knuckles.

"A little tender," you say, feeling a tinge of fear when his other hand lifts off your waist to feel the damage.

"Looks real good on your pretty hand," he says, dragging his index finger over the protruding bones of your hand.

"Does it?" You ask, your barely there smile falling when you wince at the little bit of pressure Toji applies.

"No," he responds, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the sore area. You wince again when his thumb drags over your skin with slightly more pressure than before. "It doesn't. We'll ice it when we get home, alright?" He lets up on the torturous touching, but keeps your hand in his. The words aren't meant to hurt you. He doesn't mean them and he hopes he communicates that with the way he still opts to hold your hand. Your hands will always be pretty to him, he just can't say that to you, right now. Not if it serves as the smallest bit of encouragement for you to repeat what happened earlier, in the future.

"Okay." You nod.

"Gimme a kiss and we can go home or wherever, if you wanna stay out."

You tilt your head up and wait for his lips to meet yours. It's a gentle brush of lips, but the second Toji's hands start slipping under the back of your sweater and your shirt, you know it's going to be more than a single kiss. You can feel the night's cold wind nipping at your skin, as his hands go higher up, his fingertips reaching just below the hooks of your bra. To your surprise, he unhooks the garment, causing you to quickly press your hands to your chest when the cups loosen, to prevent them from fully sliding down.

"Toji," you manage to utter out during the wave of kisses. You turn your head, receiving a kiss that was meant for your lips, on your cheek.

"Yeah... I think we should go home," he murmurs, against your skin. "Maybe we can rock the car a little bit before we go, hm?" Toji smirks when you let out that flustered giggle he's so familiar with. He presses another kiss to your cheek before you turn to face him, again.

"Okay, but let's not blow it all here. We have a nice and comfortable bed at home. Let's add another good night to it."

You don't miss the way Toji's lustfully lidded, green eyes, keep glancing down at your hands on your chest, or how he's mindlessly caressing your bare waist, under your shirt.

"Alright, ma." He pulls out his car keys and with the press of a button, the car unlocks with a beep and the brief, dull sound of flipping locks. "Get inside."

[galactic-magick]

Maybe in Another Universe, You're Still the Man I Love: Viktor x Reader

Summary: You get sent to the same alternate timeline with Ekko and Heimerdinger, and you find out just how wonderful your life could've been.

Words: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Yeah so that finale sent me into deep grief and writing is the only way I can heal I fear. I hope you enjoy this interpretation of what Viktor could be doing in the alternate timeline.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Your vision comes into focus, though your head is still pounding. You’re extremely nauseous, feeling like your body is not your own as you become aware of the all-too-familiar voice that just spoke to you.

You’re sitting on a desk in an Academy classroom, journals and various papers surrounding you. The sun is shining through the windows, cascading gold onto the other desks and tables. It’s a peaceful, simple sight. Something that feels so wrong for precisely that reason.

“I don’t have another class for a while, you can talk to me,” Viktor says, brushing his fingers against your face. “Care to tell me why you’re looking at me like that?”

You suppose you look like you’ve seen a ghost, which isn’t so far from the truth. You must be dreaming—maybe hallucinating—anything to explain how this isn’t real.

“I…” you start, failing to find the words to say.

-

You storm into the lab, locking your eyes on the empty hexcore cocoon, then at Jayce.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I don’t know!” Jayce fires back at you, clearly just as distraught as you are. “He woke up and told me he needed to leave me and this place. I have no idea where he went!”

“Why didn’t you follow him?” you scream, your mind spinning. Who knows how the hexcore changed him, he could literally be anywhere.

“He didn’t want me to! What don’t you understand?” Jayce slumps back into his chair, his face in his hands. As soon as he notices a tear fall down your cheek, his tone softens. “Look, I...we both know he’s been different since he started messing with the hexcore. He had told me to destroy it...but I couldn’t. And now he’s even more different. I’m so sorry,”

“Jayce…” you walk towards him. “I’m not blaming you for anything that’s happened. He’s been pushing both of us away for a long time. I guess...I just thought maybe when he woke up he’d love me again like he used to. Did he even ask about me?”

Jayce shakes his head, and your heart sinks even further.

-

“I think I’m dreaming,” you finally say, and Viktor tilts his head. “This...this isn’t real. We’re not like this, we haven’t been like this in a long time. You’re not...what are you here, a professor?”

He cups your face and kisses your forehead, “Darling, I don’t think you’ve been getting enough sleep, you’re talking nonsense,”

“No, no, no,” you jump off the desk and pace around the room. “If this isn’t a dream, then where am I? Some sort of other reality?”

“You mean to say you believe...this is not your world?” Viktor takes in your words intently.

“Well in my world, you fell out of love with me in favor of your work, and then you nearly died and got severely mutated by the hexcore. So yeah, I’d say things are pretty different,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Hex...core?”

“You don’t have that here?”

“Seemingly not,”

You sigh, perching yourself back on the desk, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No, I...I have theorized the possibility of alternate universes before, but I never thought I would come face to face with it in my lifetime,” he starts writing on the wall chalkboard. “I see no reason not to believe you. After all, my wife of this universe would probably not be saying these things,”

“We’re married?”

“Of course. Now tell me, what else is different in your universe?”

-

You’ve tried to find him everywhere—going all the secret places the two of you would go in the past, and asking people if they’ve seen him both topside and bottom. There’s no signs, not even a clue. He doesn’t want to be found.

You make your way back to Jayce’s lab, surprised to see Heimerdinger and a young man you don’t recognize with him. They fill you in on their concern about wild runes showing up around the city, and their plan to check on the hexgates. You’re desperate for anything to get your mind off Viktor, so you go along with them.

You’ve never been to the source of the hexgates before, and it’s even more grand than you imagined. One thing could go wrong and the entire thing would explode, but it’s precisely the potential of destruction that makes it all the more fascinating.

That is, until it becomes entirely unpredictable.

Your surroundings change at the blink of an eye—warped visuals and sounds you can’t make out. You scream for the others, but no one can hear.

-

You do your best to describe all the important events and details of your timeline, while Viktor takes notes on the chalkboard and compares what you say to his timeline. He seems particularly interested in his inventions in your timeline, and his partnership with Jayce—who’s no longer alive in his timeline.

“He died in an explosion here at the academy several years ago, it was a tragic accident that also killed a young girl from the undercity. He was a friend and a brilliant mind,” he pauses. “We...actually named our son after him.”

Your eyes widen, overwhelmed by this possibility of what could’ve been, “We have a son?”

“We do. And he’s perfect,” Viktor smiles softly. “You really are from a different time, aren’t you?”

You nod, trying to hold back tears. Why does this reality’s version of you get to be happy? Why does this Viktor get to dodge corruption and the hands of hubris?

Viktor gazes once again on the chalkboard notes, looking for patterns and causes for the differences in your timelines. Would he have reached the same fate if Jayce was still alive? What caused the Undercity to heal and thrive in his timeline but not in yours? Was this hextech you speak of really so destructive?

You are the same person he fell in love with, there’s no doubt in his mind about that, but you’ve been significantly more hurt than the Y/N he knows.

He steps close to you again, wiping the tears from your face and pulling you into him, “I’m so sorry your version of me has taken a different path.”

You sob into his chest, gripping his clothes. He runs his fingers through your hair and rubs your back, soothing you as if you’re his own.

But you’re not his. This isn’t your life.

You pull away, taking a deep breath, “As much as I want to stay here, I can’t keep taking over the consciousness of the me in this world. I need to find the others,”

“I don’t know if it’s possible for you to get back,” he says. “You say you got here through hextech, and that was never invented here.”

“We’ll find a way,” you run to the window, looking out to get a gauge of where you are. Heimerdinger might have landed somewhere here in the Academy too, and Ekko probably went back to the Undercity. But Jayce—if he’s dead in this universe—where would he be?

“Before you go,” Viktor places a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to meet our son?”

Anxiety washes over you, your body going numb from the prospect. Would it only hurt you more to see a life that you could’ve created?

“Don’t you have more classes to teach, professor?” you smile, trying to turn your nervousness into something lighthearted.

“I’ll cancel for today. It’s about the time you usually pick him up from school anyway,”

He grabs his cane with one hand and takes your hand with the other, posting a quick note on his door as you leave.

-

You sit on a bench outside the elementary school, your heart pounding. This child is going to run out that building any minute, eager to see the mother he’s always known.

But you’re not her. You didn’t carry him, birth him, or raise him. You don’t have the same memories and experiences.

But you must pretend that you do.

You know which one he is immediately. He’s a perfect combination of yours and Viktor’s features, just like you’d imagined. His smile is contagious, and he wastes no time jumping into your arms.

“Look what I made at school today, Mommy!” he puts a crafty contraption in front of your face, a colorful collection of sticks and paper glued together.

“That’s so creative, honey, I love it,” but your attention is solely focused on him, his sweet face glowing with pride and joy.

“Quite the little inventor, aren’t you?” Viktor applauds him. “What else did you learn today?”

“We did reading and spelling. I can spell family now. F-A-M-I-L-E!”

“Close, sweetheart. There’s a ‘Y’ at the end,” you laugh,

“Are you sure about that?” he says, wincing his adorable face in thought. “Whatever. I learned how to spell brother and sister too, but I don’t have any of those. How do I get one of those?”

Viktor chuckles, “I’ll talk about it with your Mommy, how about that?”

“Okay!” he jumps up and starts walking home with the two of you.

-

What if I stayed? You wonder.

You’re playing with your son on the living room floor, with toys mostly made by Viktor himself. The house is small but cozy, a home you wish was really yours. What if you just stay in this dream reality forever?

What if you never find the others? What if there really is no way to get back?

But no, that wouldn’t be fair to the you of this reality. She’s the one who has this life, not you. Besides, Viktor and his son deserve their wife and mother back.

You hear a knock on the door, and Viktor goes to open it.

“Oh, Viktor, it is so good to see you.”

Your head swivels instantly towards the yordle in the entryway, “Heimerdinger! You found me!” you join Viktor at the door, “Where’s Ekko and Jayce?”

“I have not found Jayce as of yet, but I did find Ekko and sent him back to his timeline about a week ago. We found some hextech fragments and were able to use them to jump through time and space.”

“So...I can get home too?”

“As soon as you’re ready. We built the machine in a young girl’s lab in the Undercity,” he looks between you, then Viktor, and finally your son. His attitude of urgency dissipates as he begins to understand. “But...I could not blame you if you want to stay longer.”

Your son Jayce comes running to join you, grabbing onto your leg, “Who’s this guy, Mommy?”

“This is Professor Heimerdinger, he used to work at the Academy,” you pat his head, “Your dad used to be his assistant.”

“I’m sure you already have a brilliant mind, my boy,” Heimerdinger says. “Your parents must be proud.”

Little Jayce giggles.

“Actually, I would very much like to see this new invention you’ve built, Professor,” Viktor speaks up. “I’m now quite intrigued by the prospect of other universes.”

“I have no rule against you observing, Viktor, but I’m sure you understand I must destroy it after we all get back. It is too dangerous to be left here unsupervised,” Heimerdinger’s tone becomes more serious. “I’m sure Y/N has told you of the destruction hextech caused in our universe, especially to you.”

“Of course, Professor. I understand.”

-

You’ve never seen the Undercity look this beautiful.

It seems that the other version of you comes here often, so many people wave to you and little Jayce automatically runs off with some kids his age to play.

You meet a blue-haired young lady named Powder, who helped Heimerdinger and Ekko in their experiments. She looks so familiar to you, but you can’t place where you’ve seen her in your reality.

Heimerdinger explains how it works, and both you and Viktor listen intently. With everything up and running, you could go back this instant.

The pull to go back is strong, like an obligation to return to your rightful place in the universe. But the pull to stay is equally strong, as you gaze into your husband’s beautiful amber eyes that you want to find solace in forever.

“It’s your choice, my love,” Viktor says, as if reading your mind.

“I know I need to go back…” you exhale, tears welling in your eyes once again. “But I don’t know what I’m going back to,”

“I don’t know either,” he caresses your face, “But I do know you are strong in every universe,”

“I’m not,” you shake your head, “Not without you.”

“Don’t say that,” his thumbs smooth across your cheeks.

You nod, turning towards the device.

“Could you…could you kiss me one last time?” you ask.

Viktor wastes no time honoring your request, crashing his lips to yours with lasting passion. He pulls away only as you back into the circle, leaving you with one last affectionate whisper:

“I’m so fortunate to have met another version of you, my love.”

[zorosangell]

zoro and his girl who are always bickering and fighting and breaking up and getting back together again. atp, the other straw hats are used to it now. I can also imagine zoro NEVER apologizes and his idea of getting back together with his girl again is just acting like buisness as usual (just going back to her and sitting with her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, kissin her cheek, acting like nothing ever happened, etc) and usually, she’s receptive to it. Because even though she’s as stubborn as zoro (maybe even more), she hates arguing (and loves him too much).

but imagine during one of their arguments, Nami drags her out to go shopping at a island they stopped by, and she sees all these happy couples holding hands and being affectionate and just being sweet and soft with each other. she realizes…zoro is never sweet and soft with her. and he NEVER says I’m sorry (I imagine maybe she sees an arguing couple in the market, but the guy comes with flowers and an apology and it makes her wonder). She makes up her mind, she won’t take him back until he says those words, no matter what. I know this isn’t so descriptive, but I’d love to see you take on this! ❤️

⛥ﾟ・。 pit

synopsis: time and time again zoro has forgotten about your outings, leaving you dressed up and alone on several occasions. but after nami witnesses it in person, she finally puts her foot down... and you finally confront your swordsman.

cw: angst, very little comfort, happy-ish ending (left up for interpretation), zoro's kind of an asshole, nami's a girl's girl, reader is better than me.

a/n: listen to promise by laufey or casual by chappell roan if you want the full experience. i've never written a trifling zoro before this was crazy

"Why don't you stop wasting my time and give me a real discount?" Nami asked, firmly slamming her fist on the counter.

"Please don't be angry! I'm doing my best!" the cashier apologized, "But, c'mon, I can't take fifty percent off no matter how much you buy. They're marked down enough already!"

The man looked to be on the brink of tears, and you couldn't help but snicker.

"Nami, leave the poor man alone..." you smiled, feeling a little bad for him, "He's just doing his job. And besides, it's not like you can't afford it."

"Nope," she denied, popping the p as she grabbed another humongous pile of clothes. "It's the principle of the matter, (y/n). If I have the option to pay for something half-off, why would I pay full price?"

"They're not half-off!"

"Besides..." her gaze drifted to your outfit, a small pout settling on her lips as she looked you up and down with saddened eyes. "I can see that you are clearly trying to out-glam me, so I gotta glam back!"

She turned to the cashier, placing down the new pile.

"You drive a hard bargain. I'll buy these, too. But I want ninety percent off."

The man nearly fainted and you laughed, surprised by Nami's playful rivalry.

"Nami, you've owned more clothes than I've ever worn. I think it's safe to say that between the two of us, you're the one that's out-glamming me," you assured, resting your cheek in your palm as you leaned on the counter.

"But look at you!" she playfully whined. "Your outfit is killer! And your hair is on point, too!"

Though, just as quick as she examined your outfit, she realized that it was really good.

Too good to be shopping in.

"Wait, (y/n), were you supposed to be going somewhere? Why are y—"

The moment your face fell, the glimmer in your eyes dimming at the memory, reality finally donned on the navigator, hitting her like a sea train at top speed.

He did it again.

Anger rushed through the woman's veins like wildfire, her face not even attempting to conceal her fury as it twisted into an expression of absolute rage.

You knew it all too well.

"Nami, ple—" "I'll KILL HIM!"

The clothes on the counter were suddenly a thing of the past as the red-haired woman drew her Clima-Takt and stormed toward the exit of the boutique, the dangerous aura she was emanating sending a shiver down even your spine.

Like magnets, everything began to click for the woman.

The beautiful outfit.

The done-up hair.

The glum look on your face.

'That bastard stood her up again!'

That's why you had been wandering around town aimlessly.

You were waiting for him.

This scenario had become commonplace over the past several months you and the green-haired swordsman had been dating, much to Nami's severe indignation.

It was always the same.

You and Zoro would plan a date.

Zoro would get caught up training, or get caught up drinking, or just plain, old fucking forget.

You would end up alone, having gone through all the trouble and embarrassment.

She would have to console you, and you would have to keep her from bashing his head in.

Then you'd have to face the jerk the next day, who, instead of apologizing, simply acted like nothing ever happened.

As if the entire ship see how utterly crushed you were.

And then the whole cycle would repeat the following week.

Nami was sick of it.

'This shit ends today.'

"Nami, please! It's not worth it!" you ran out the store and after her, grabbing onto her arm. "It's not gonna change anything!"

"The hell it isn't!" she barked, brows cinched tightly together. "(y/n), I won't stand for this anymore! This is what?! The twentieth time?!"

"Twenty-third... but I'm not counting..." you corrected, meekly.

"(Y/N)!"

"I know! I know!" you sighed, plopping yourself down on the curb, defeated. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"There's nothing wrong with you! There's something wrong with him not realizing just how much of a fucking catch you are!" she groaned, exasperatedly, as she threw her hands in the air. "Twenty-three times, that bastard... I oughta chip his swords twenty-three times."

"I guess... I just don't get why..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap with glassy eyes. "Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?"

Nami turned to you, heart aching at your saddened form.

"Don't think that for another second!" she denied, quickly moving to take a seat next to you, pulling you into a small side hug. "You've done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Zoro's just being a real jackass."

"But there has to be some reason," you attempted to rationalize, tone rising. "Does he not care? Am I just that insignificant that he can't even waste an hour or two to spend time with me? His girlfriend?"

"That's what I've been saying!" Nami agreed, loudly, calling the attention of some passersby. "(y/n), you've given him chance after chance after chance, and he still hasn't cleaned up his act."

She gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, flashing you a sincere smile.

"I'm not saying you have to break up with him, unless that's what you want to do, but I'm saying that you really need to realize just how amazing you are, and hold him accountable for his actions."

Shooting up from her seat, she stood before you, pointing a manicured finger at your chest.

"You're the prize, girl! You're strong, smart, kind, compassionate, and drop-dead gorgeous! What guy wouldn't want that!" she turned to a few of the men passing by, a smile on her face. "Right?"

"YES!" they cheered, eagerly.

Your face burned with embarrassment.

"Nami!"

"You get my point!" she laughed, resting her hand on her hip. "You deserve someone who will treat you like the princess you are. Whether that's Zoro or not is up to you, but know that his track record begs to differ..."

Taking a moment, you let her words sink in, your confidence rising slowly but surely.

Maybe you were that great...

Maybe you did deserve more...

Maybe it was time to start anew...

"Y'know what... you're right! It's time for a change!" you smiled, slowly standing up from the curb. "No more tears!"

"Nope!" Nami cheered, proudly.

"No more excuses!"

"None of 'em!"

"No more pretending!"

"Not around here!"

"From now on, I'm gonna start living life for me! And if that means going out clubbing tonight and getting drunk to forget my problems, then so be it!"

"Y'know what, I'll take it! Let's go!" Nami squealed, the two of you quickly charging back into the boutique.

You couldn't fight off your smile, your shoulders feeling like an insurmountable weight had been lifted off them.

For the first time in a while, things didn't seem so bleak.

"Ooo, I think I saw the perfect revenge dress for you, (y/n)! It's gorgeous!"

Walking out of the girls' quarters, you felt like a million bucks—and were probably wearing it too with the amount of money you and Nami spent in town.

But price be damned, the result was phenomenal.

The provocative dress.

The decadent perfume.

The glittering jewelry.

The leg-extending heels.

You were absolutely breath-taking.

Not to say that you weren't before, but just significantly more so.

The dress itself was just the right amount of short, and helped carve out your curves deliciously.

Your hair was done courtesy of the ship's archaeologist, its style elegant yet loose to fit the club scene you were going to.

And your skin was practically glowing thanks to the oils Nami had picked up in the market.

So, it was safe to say you were at least a quadruple threat.

Looking down at yourself, you smiled, feeling like the prettiest woman in the world.

No longer concerned with the feelings of others, or the wrong-doings of yourself, you felt freer than you'd ever had.

And you had Nami to thank for it all.

'For finally knocking some sense into me...'

Sensing someone's presence, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, only to see your swordsman standing right before you.

His eyes dragged over your body, almost analytically, a grin rising to his lips.

It seemed he finished his training early...

"Where are you goin' all dressed up?" he smirked, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. "You look good... an' smell good, too."

Quickly, you pushed yourself out of his grasp, your legs pressing forward to stride across the balcony, leaving the him to stand there, surprised.

You had never pushed him away before, much less ignored him.

'What the hell?'

"What's the matter with you?" Zoro's voice lowered an octave, brows furrowed in confusion as he followed after you.

You didn't answer, keeping your gaze trained ahead as you pressed on, heading toward the stairs that led off the Sunny.

"(y/n)," he tried again, voice slightly firmer, as he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "(y/n), what the hell's your problem? Where are you going?"

Harshly, you flung his hand off, brows slowly beginning to crease at his audacity.

He was acting like nothing happened.

Again.

He knew exactly why you were fucking upset, but was making the choice to completely ignore it in favor of acting stupid and playing in your face.

Your jaw set tight, all your thoughts grinding to a screeching halt.

For the first time ever, anger and resentment began to claw at your chest, your hand itching to rise up and slap him right across the cheek.

Enough was enough.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," you spat, voice dripping with venom as you went back to walking. "I don't wanna see you right now."

"See me?" his brows furrowed as his finger pointed toward his chest, now even more confused. "The hell did I do?!"

Or maybe he was just fucking stupid...

Either way, you finally cracked.

"IT'S WHAT YOU DON'T DO, ZORO!" you roared, whipping back around to face him, the man flinching at your volume. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, IT'S ALWAYS BEEN WHAT YOU DON'T DO!"

The leak in the dam of your heart had finally turned into a full-on flood, and you were now outpouring months upon months upon months of pent up anger.

"You stand me up! You forget our dates! You make it abundantly clear that you would much rather spend the day nursing a sake bottle than with me!" you scoffed, throwing an exasperated hand in the air. "Do you even remember what we were supposed to do today?!"

The swordsman paused a moment, scouring his brain for recollection of the event.

"Hey, Zo'," you piped up from your spot in the corner, shutting the book Robin had loaned you. "I'm gettin' kinda hungry. You wanna grab lunch?"

He nodded, grinding out another squat as he lowered his knees to a ninety-degree angle, somehow perfectly controlling the two ton weight on his back.

"Yeah, you go on ahead," he grunted, holding the position. "I'll catch up. Gonna finish up this set."

"'Kay," you nodded, flashing him an eager smile. "I'll meet you at that sushi place we saw in town."

Zoro's eye shot wide, a sudden sense of dread sinking in his stomach as he finally remembered.

"Oh, shit..."

"Yeah... Oh, shit," you scoffed, turning to head off the ship. "I'm done with this..."

"Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute," he grabbed your arm once again, pulling you back. "(y/n), it was an accident... I didn't mean it."

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?! You never fucking apologize!" you yelled, jerking sharply away from his grasp. "At least that way it could seem like you're at least trying to pretend you care about me!"

"Of course, I care about you, (y/n)!"

"YOU CERTAINLY DON'T ACT LIKE IT!" your voice cracked.

He halted, expression falling and chest tugging with pain as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.

You were hurting... bad.

And it was all his fault.

All of the times he left you hanging, all of the times he screwed up.

They were all coming back to haunt him, each one doubling the weight of the sinking pit in his stomach.

How could he have not seen?

You had been so patient with him—never raising your voice, never holding a grudge—and he supposed his mind had unconsciously took that as the green-light to proceed.

Granted, he never forgot anything or stood you up out of malice or actual lack of care.

It just... slipped his mind.

Though, in that, he could see where his thinking was flawed, and where you could find a problem.

"Am I... just that forgettable to you?" you asked, voice suddenly small.

Zoro snapped himself out of his thoughts, eye wide at your tone.

It sounded so distant.

"Of course, not, (y/n)," he quickly denied, lurching forward to hold you out of instinct. "I—"

But you stepped back, avoiding his grasp as your arms raised to hug yourself, hoping to keep everything together.

"Every time I look at you, I feel more alone," you continued, letting out a few sniffles. "I'm always, always reaching out to you, always down for whatever you want to do. But you just... never reach back... and you don't even bother to apologize..."

Glancing out at the sunset, you fought off the wobble of your lip, hugging yourself even tighter.

"Zoro... I can't be with someone that doesn't care about me..."

That's when everything suddenly came to a screeching halt.

Zoro felt like the words cut right through his chest, tearing through his heart and opening it up like force hell-bent on making him see.

He'd rarely felt this feeling, but he knew what it was instantly.

Fear.

"(y/n), don't do this," he started, panic slowly spiking in his veins. "I'm sorry for being such an idiot... but we can work this out. This doesn't have to be... it doesn't have to end like this..."

"But it does," you countered, quickly. "It isn't like this is your first time doing this, Zoro... or your third... or your tenth... or even your twentieth."

You scoffed, half-laughing at the situation.

"If I hadn't said anything, you probably would've made it to thirty."

Zoro's chest stung at the comment, the man almost letting out a wince.

It was harsh... but not without truth.

"I'm freeing myself of all of this, Zoro. I deserve better," you stated, firmly, slowly regaining your confidence as you turned away, heading for the stairs. "This conversation is over. And thanks to you, I'm late."

The swordsman looked just about ready to shit his pants, the finality of your words scaring him more than any enemy.

You were his girl.

His best friend.

His ray of sunshine.

Seeing you so upset, so jaded, because of his actions?

He felt like shit.

And, in that moment, he honestly wanted nothing more than to hold you.

To shower you with a thousand apologies.

To make it up to you in any and every way he could possible conceive.

But you were slipping through his fingers like smoke, blowing father and farther away.

"(y/n)... please..." he tried one final time, voice softer than you'd ever heard it before as he carefully grabbed your wrist.

And you nearly broke, the sound of his voice pulling a sharp string on your heart, nearly making you take everything back.

But Nami's words from earlier replayed in your mind, and you fought the feeling, pulling your arm away.

You had to stay strong, for both your sakes.

"We're done, Zoro," you finished, finally descending down the steps. "I'm moving on."

The swordsman watched as you disappeared in front of him, now suddenly feeling as if you were worlds away.

He'd finally done it.

He'd pushed you over the edge.

And rather than feeling angry or upset, or even sorry for himself, he felt empty.

Truly and utterly empty.

The rest of the crew watched from cracked doors and open windows as the man stood there, staring at the place you had once stood like he was in a trance.

Nobody wanted things to turn out this way.

It was clear as day that the both of you loved each other a great deal... but Zoro needed this.

He needed the wake up call.

And now that he was presented with all the necessary truth, he could finally work toward remedying the situation; and, by the will of the Gods, making up his dizzying amount of transgressions against you.

It would be hard work, and for the first time in his life, he would have to be completely vulnerable.

But the crew believed in him.

And the crew believed in you, too.

The both of you would come back from this stronger than ever.

And Zoro would come back to the crow's nest with a calendar hanging front and center on the door.

Courtesy of the ship's navigator.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 1

Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they truly are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Your art is finally put on display at a local gallery, and Klaus has a vested interest in it.

Warnings: Klaus Being Klaus, No Personal Space, Alcohol, Flirting, Almost Kisses, Art Interpretation, Dark Themes

Word Count: 1.2k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

Your first art show in New Orleans isn’t nearly as extravagant as you thought it would be, despite the small jazz band in the corner and the free champagne being served at the door. The jubilant music seems to fade off into the distance as you stand just a few feet away from one of your pieces, silently stalking the patrons as they walk by and observe it, muttering amongst themselves. You try to hone in on what they’re saying about your work, about how it makes them feel, or if they’ve caught onto any messages you’ve hidden in your mixed medium on canvas. So far it’s just been a mixture of silence and solitary comments like “interesting” or “hmm” as the glass of champagne warms to room temperature in your hand.

“Which one’s yours?” A man’s eloquent voice pulls you from your anxious thoughts, forcing you to look over at his delicately handsome face as he walks toward you with a confidence that could rival royalty.

“Huh?” You take a sip of your lukewarm champagne in order to gain some liquid courage to engage with this gorgeous man who seemed to appear out of thin air.

“I’d recognize that look anywhere,” he starts, touching one of the sculptures he clearly wasn’t supposed to. “Will they like it? Will they understand it? But most importantly, will they buy it?”

“That obvious, huh?” You take another sip, letting the bubbles take their time to crinkle your nose as the rest of the carbonation slowly fizzles out.

“Painfully, I’m afraid.” That smirk of his warms into a coy smile as he takes a step toward you, his own glass of champagne nearly empty. “Yours isn’t the landscape with the sailboat, no… those waters look far too calm for you.” He stands next to you and continues to guess, letting his fresh clean scent surround you as hints of a bergamont settle into the air. “Not the still life either, you don’t strike me as someone who focuses on something as mundane as coffee and beignets.” He pauses and looks at you briefly, taking in your features. “No, a work of art from your hands has to contain something different, something much… darker.”

“And what makes you think that?” You chide in return, enjoying this little game he’s created for himself. “Maybe I love coffee and beignets.”

“Well, darling, who doesn’t? But that’s not why you became an artist, now is it?” He raises his eyebrows, giving you a chance to notice the hints of green and gold in his blue eyes.

He was good, you’ll give him that.

“My money’s on the portrait of the faceless woman drenched in blood.” His tone drops to the level of darkness he previously described as he steps behind you, his voice like butter as it melts down each vertebrae of your spine. “It’s beautiful, really; the way you captured the themes of the tortured and macabre while still maintaining an intimate beauty of the feminine experience. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

His change in tambre and location freezes you in place, forcing you to look at your own painting through his eyes as he hovers behind you, making you shiver with the anticipation of his intentions. The fact that you’ve allowed him to get this close so fast makes you wrestle with the idea that you may already desire this stranger based on nothing more than the words he’s chosen to speak with that velvety voice of his. Are you that subject to flattery? That desperate for validation? Longing that deeply for some level of intimate connection? Perhaps you are...

After what seems like an eternity of moral gymnastics, you no longer resist the temptation to turn toward him as he guesses correctly, noting the triumphant look on his face as your lips linger mere inches away from his. You barely notice the still breath that remains inside your lungs, expanding your rib cage for far too long as you stare at his plump lips, taking heed of the single droplet of champagne that rests on them.

“And what makes you such an expert on the feminine experience?” You manage to ask as he allows you to stare at him a little bit longer before answering your question.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m merely a curious third party who’s invested in the local artists that my charitable donations help support.” He confesses with a step back.

“You’re a benefactor?” You don’t mean to sound so judgmental, but he doesn’t exactly look like most of the ancient relics who usually pour money into the city. If you’re being honest, he looks more like one of the musicians you’d find on the street corner playing a cover of ‘Wonderwall’ on guitar for tips.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, love, we come in all shapes and sizes.” He laughs, looking you up and down while the shock of his financial status slowly begins to wear off. “Now, tell me, was I right? Is that your painting?”

“Maybe.” You cross her arms over your chest, trying your best to resist his evident charms. “But you already knew that, being a benefactor and all; that’s cheating.”

“Cheating is such a harsh word. I merely used my astute powers of observation to put two and two together.” He casually places his hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze in order to keep you near. “Surely, you can’t fault me for that.”

“I suppose not.” Your heart races at his sudden touch, the gleam in his eyes barely hiding the raging fire behind them. He’s going to be trouble, you can already tell. “Do you flirt like this with every new artist you meet?”

“Just the morbidly disturbed ones that I find deeply enchanting.” His strange compliment is oddly personal, hinting that he might know a little bit more about you than he’s currently letting on.

“You think I’m morbidly disturbed?”

He gives you a knowing look.

“Oh, it’s all over the canvas, love. It doesn’t take an expert to notice the hurried brush strokes in the busy background, the aggression with which you plastered the feminist news clippings together contrasted against the time you took to purposefully pour the viscous, slow drip of blood on it until it’s nearly spilling onto the floor.” He closes the gap between you, his hand now in your hair.

You swallow hard as he fishes around in your psyche for an accurate interpretation of your work, his proximity nearly turning your insides to quicksand as his cologne dizzies you on the spot. Good god, he’s beautiful.

“You know there are other ways of releasing all that pent up rage and aggression… all that passion.” He leans in so that his lips ghost over your cheek as it blushes against his stubble. “Although they aren’t quite as lucrative as this.”

“And what would those be?” You ask coyly, eagerly daring him to show you.

But instead of going in further for a demonstration, he leans back with a satisfied grin, as if he’s already gotten everything he wants from you at that moment. He grabs a pen from a nearby table and takes your hand, writing his phone number on your palm. “Find me when you feel like it gets to be too much, when all those emotions make you feel as if you’re absolutely about to burst.”

[dewdropdinosaur]

Not Your Mother's

LUCIFER X READER Summary: Lucifer and Alastor hate each other, no surprise. But what happens when Alastor threatens one of the only things Lucifer loves? Warnings: Cussing, Violence. Rating: PG-13 For the dearest, @adeptusxiaohere, who read 'Our Mom' and thought of a different interpretation to Alastor's veiled threats! This one is a bit longer, around 1.5k words. See Masterlist for Request Status

In the bustling chaos of the Hazbin Hotel, where demons sought refuge and redemption, there existed a peculiar dynamic between two prominent figures: Lucifer and Alastor. Their disdain for each other was as notorious as the flames of Hell itself, an open secret whispered among the denizens of the hotel. Their clashes were legendary, echoing through the halls with the thunderous force of opposing titans. Yet, amidst their perpetual animosity, there was one figure who held a special place in both their hearts - a shining oasis of warmth and kindness, Y/N. Y/N's nurturing nature had endeared her to all, earning her the title of "mother", “mom”, “momma”, and even “abuela” among the residents of the hotel.

Of course, Lucifer found himself drawn to Y/N in ways he couldn't quite comprehend. Her compassion sparked something dormant within him, a longing for solace in the midst of his eternal torment. And so, they found solace in each other's company, their unlikely bond blossoming amidst the chaos of their surroundings.

However, Lucifer's newfound happiness did not sit well with Alastor. Beneath his jovial facade lurked a mad streak, his own rival taking something that he himself had provided to the Hotel. He owned Y/N's soul, how dare that insolent fallen angel touch something that he had rightfully won. Alastor, ever the enigmatic presence, watched their burgeoning relationship with a mixture of disdain and concern. To him, Lucifer was a rival not just for Y/N but for the very soul of the hotel itself. She provided something that even the Radio Demon could admit was special, reminding him of his own mother in a way; not that he would ever admit it. As Lucifer and Y/N's love blossomed, Alastor's facade began to crack. He masked his disdain with veiled threats, cloaked in the guise of protecting Y/N from Lucifer's supposed dark intentions. But with each passing day, his resentment festered, threatening to consume him whole.

Then, one fateful evening, in a moment of unchecked rage, Alastor's carefully constructed facade shattered. Per normal, the fit began as the two men challenged each other again. 

The atmosphere in the Hazbin Hotel crackled with tension as Lucifer and Alastor found themselves locked in yet another heated exchange. Their words were barbed, their insults cutting like knives as they circled each other with predatory intent.

"You're nothing but a pathetic excuse for a demon, Alastor," Lucifer spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "A mere puppet with delusions of grandeur."

Alastor's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with malice. "And you, Lucifer, are nothing but a fallen angel clinging to the remnants of your former glory," he retorted, his tone laced with venom. "A pitiful relic of a bygone era."

Their words stung, each barb sinking deeper into wounds long festering. But Lucifer, never one to back down from a challenge, pushed the boundaries even further.

"At least I'm not hiding behind a mask, pretending to be something I'm not," he sneered, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Unlike you, Alastor, I have the courage to face the truth. That you are weak and worth no note of attention or fear."

Alastor chuckled, stepping forward and placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, leaning down so his head was right next to her head as he looked toward Lucifer. "You dare insult me, Lucifer?" Alastor growled, his voice dripping with jovial menace. "You dare to mock me while you hide behind the skirts of this pathetic mortal? Let’s see how you like things being taken from you just as you took from me."

The line struck a nerve within Lucifer, who lost all resolve at the threatening of his loved one. Throwing a punch, it barely nicked Alastor’s head who slunk awya in the shadows. 

“Oh now, this is what I have been waiting for!” Slinking and dodging every punch and attack thrown his way, Alastor contininued to mock the King of Hell until Lucifer finally landed a punch and broke Alastor’s monocle. 

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events. She had always been a beacon of peace and understanding, a guiding light in the darkest of times. But now, she found herself caught in the crossfire of a battle she had no part in. Having been caught in the wake of blasts, her body now was bruised and bloodied. 

"Alastor, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. "This isn't like you. We're all friends here. Can't we find a way to resolve this without resorting to violence?"

But her words fell on deaf ears as Alastor's rage consumed him whole at viewing the piece of broken glass. With a snarl of contempt, he turned his back on Y/N, his focus squarely fixed on Lucifer.

"This isn't over, Lucifer," he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "Not by a long shot."

And with that ominous warning hanging in the air, Alastor summoned shadows, leaving behind a trail of destruction in his wake. As the echoes of his departure faded into silence, Y/N was left to pick up the pieces, her heart heavy with sorrow and regret. For in the world of demons and sinners, even the purest of souls could find themselves tainted by the darkness that lurked within.

The hotel trembled with the weight of Lucifer's wrath as he beheld the sight of Y/N, crumpled and wounded at Alastor's feet. In that moment, all pretense of civility vanished, replaced by a primal fury that consumed him whole.

With each blow exchanged between the two adversaries, Y/N's heart ached with a sorrow deeper than any physical wound. She had never imagined that their feud would escalate to such a destructive extent, nor had she ever anticipated becoming collateral damage in their battle of wills.

Through bleary eyes, Y/N watched as Lucifer and Alastor grappled with one another, their movements a blur of fury and desperation. Each punch landed with bone-crushing force, echoing through the hall like thunder in a storm-torn sky.

Summoning every ounce of strength within her battered body, Y/N pushed herself upright, determination burning in her eyes despite the agony that coursed through her veins. With shaky steps, she stumbled towards Lucifer and Alastor, her voice a hoarse whisper in the din of battle.

"Stop," she pleaded, her words barely audible above the din. "Please, stop..."

For a fleeting moment, the chaos seemed to abate as Lucifer and Alastor turned their gaze towards her, their expressions a mixture of shock and guilt. Y/N refused to back down. With a steely resolve born of love and compassion, she stepped between the warring demons, her outstretched arms a barrier against the violence that threatened to consume them all.

"Enough" she declared, her voice ringing with a clarity that cut through the chaos like a beacon in the darkness.

Both men let go of their death grips on each other and looked at the battered woman. 

“Go to your rooms.”

“But ducky–”

“I said go to your room Lucifer, you too Al. I don’t want to see you till morning. Then this place better be cleaned spotless!” 

Both men slunk away, as Y/N sighed, viewing the mess of the lobby around her. Plopping down on the nearest couch, Y/N drug her hands over her face. 

“Shit, did hot momma just put the Radio Demon and the King of Hell in time out?” 

“Angel, shut your fucking mouth.”

“You could always find ways to shut it up, Whiskers.”

[majinael]

final part of vulnerable

★michael kaiser x she/her pronouns reader (can be interpreted as GN)

★2,6k words

★part1 & part2 & part3 & part4

★songs associated : sweater weather & a little death

It wasn’t necessarily a shame, but somehow, neither of you ever mentioned what had happened that day.

Michael sat alone in his room, surrounded by the books he’d been too distracted to finish. As he closed the last one, his fingers brushed the cover, lingering for a moment before he leaned back in his chair. The silence felt heavy, pressing against him as his mind drifted.

Love? The thought almost made him scoff.

It was absurd. Unrealistic. Yet, there it was—a persistent weight beneath his arrogance, nagging at the edges of his thoughts.

But even if it was love, what was he supposed to do with it? How could someone like him ever make it something real?

The questions haunted him into the night, leaving him restless. By morning, they hadn’t disappeared. If anything, they’d only become sharper, digging into him as he walked toward the stadium.

Passing your office, he saw you through the glass. Another patient was with you, laughing at something you said. Your back was to Michael, but he could see the way your hands moved with practiced ease, the effortless care in your gestures.

His jaw tightened.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you work like this, your kindness extended to others in a way that had nothing to do with him. But today, it felt different. It clawed at him, sharp and unrelenting.

By the time he reached the field, frustration boiled over, spilling into every movement. His kicks were sharper, angrier, each strike of the ball echoing his unspoken irritation.

And then you appeared, as if on cue.

“Hello!”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Don’t you have patients to take care of?” His tone was biting, his gaze flicking to you with thinly veiled annoyance.

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m on a break.”

“Hm.”

He turned away, clearly intent on ignoring you, but you stepped closer, not one to be dismissed so easily.

“Something’s wrong,” you observed, your voice calm but firm.

When you grabbed his wrist to stop him, he tensed, glaring at you. “Let go.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re insufferable,” he snapped. “and you’ve touched other idiots.”

A sharp laugh escaped you. “Jealous, Michael Kaiser?”

The way his name rolled off your tongue twisted something inside him. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing.

“No,” he muttered, his tone clipped. “It’s just disgusting.”

“I washed my hands.”

“I don’t care.”

“So you are jealous.”

“I’m not,” he said, though his tone betrayed him.

“You aaaare,” you teased, your grin widening.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

The challenge hung in the air, and before you could blink, he had closed the distance between you. His hands gripped your shoulders, and his lips crashed onto yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

When he pulled away, his expression was unreadable, a mix of frustration and something raw.

“Don’t test me,” he muttered before turning back to the field.

You stared after him, dazed. “You’re just… leaving?”

“That’s your punishment,” he called over his shoulder, his smirk returning.

“Oh no, however will I survive?” you said, placing a hand dramatically on your forehead.

For a moment, his chuckle was the only response before he threw himself back into training, his movements sharper than before.

The next day, sitting in the stands, you couldn’t help but notice the glint of the necklace you’d given him, the charm catching the light. It was subtle but unmistakable—a silent statement, one he didn’t need to put into words.

And when he scored his first goal, his sharp gaze darted to you in the stands, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Noel leaned over. “He’s really showing off today.”

I raised an eyebrow at his statement, curiosity flickering in my eyes, but before I could muster a response, he pressed on.

"I've seen you two together before."

A nervous laugh escaped me as I scratched the back of my neck, unease settling in. My mind raced, wondering when exactly he might have seen us—and what he had seen.

"You’re in love with him."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, spreading like wildfire as I let out another awkward chuckle. “Is it that obvious?”

“Painfully,” Noel replied, his tone certain.

By the end of the match, Michael made his way off the field, heading straight for you. His confidence was unshakable, but there was something in his gaze—something softer, more uncertain.

Before you could say a word, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against your cheek, the gesture lingering just long enough to make its meaning unmistakable. In full view of the team, the message was clear: You’re mine.

As Michael walked away, leaving a trail of tension in his wake, Noel turned to look at me. My face was a mess of heat and embarrassment, cheeks burning furiously as I sank deeper into the collar of my jacket, desperate to hide. Slumped in my seat, I avoided his gaze, praying the ground would swallow me whole.

After this long, exhausting day, I spent what felt like an eternity searching for him—an entire hour wandering aimlessly. Every step was weighed down by the gnawing suspicion that he was deliberately keeping out of sight, slipping into the shadows just beyond my reach. I found him sitting on the training stadium bleachers, alone, as the sky blushed into evening. His silhouette was sharp against the fading sunlight, his posture relaxed, but there was a stiffness in his shoulders I couldn’t ignore.

“Didn’t expect you here,” Michael said without turning, his voice low, tinged with fatigue.

I climbed the steps, sitting beside him, leaving just enough space for the silence to breathe between us. “Didn’t think you’d be hiding out here.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Of course not,” I said, the faintest tease in my tone. “You’re just… brooding.”

He finally glanced at me, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. “If you came here to psychoanalyze me, don’t bother.”

“Actually,” I said, leaning back “I came here to check on you.”

Michael scoffed softly, but there was no real bite in it. “I don’t need checking on.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

The words hung in the air, and for once, he didn’t argue. Instead, his gaze drifted back to the field, his fingers idly fidgeting with the necklace around his neck—the one I’d given him.

“Do you... like it?” I said quietly, nodding toward the charm.

He didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more hesitant. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever owned.”

I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “Wow. Such high praise.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips, but it faded just as quickly. His fingers stilled, gripping the charm tightly.

“I don’t know why you gave it to me,” he muttered. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”

I blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You could’ve chosen anyone. Someone easier. Someone who doesn’t—”

“Stop,” I interrupted, my tone firm but gentle.

His head turned slightly, his expression unreadable.

“I didn’t choose you because you’re easy, Michael,” I said. “I chose you because… you’re you. Because beneath all the arrogance and sharp edges, there’s someone worth knowing. Someone worth caring about.”

He stared at me, his gaze intense, searching. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Maybe it is.”

Michael let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe I am.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he leaned back, his eyes fixed on the darkening sky. “You know, I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between the two of us. “Caring. Letting someone… matter. I'll never be as good at it as you are.”

I hesitated for a moment, then reached out, my fingers brushing against his hand. He didn’t pull away.

“You’re better at it than you think,” I said softly.

He turned to me then, his guard slipped entirely. Vulnerability flickered in his eyes, raw and unfiltered.

“You’re terrifying, you know that?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Terrifying?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled slowly, as if the admission cost him something. “Because you make me feel things I don’t want to feel. Things I don’t know what to do with.” And I wish I could do anything else than stay silent, he thought.

I smiled faintly, my hand sliding into his, fingers lacing together. “That’s... love, Michael. Messy, complicated, terrifying but worth it.”

For a long moment, he just looked at me, his expression unreadable. Then, his grip on my hand tightened, almost imperceptibly.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted.

“You don’t have to figure it out alone.”

He let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Michael shook his head, but there was something in his eyes—something softer, quieter. Something real.

“Then I guess I’m stuck with you now,” he said, his smirk finally making a reluctant appearance.

“Lucky me,” I teased, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“Lucky me,” he muttered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it.

But I did.

And in that moment, we both understood.

I will give you the love you have always craved, you, who have wandered through life untouched by its warmth. No shadow you carry will dim the glow of my heart, as long as it beats with gold and fire, steady and unyielding in its devotion to you.

Let it seep through the cracks of your broken, blackened core. Throw it against the walls you’ve built so high, let it shatter and spill until it floods the emptiness inside you. And when it knocks you down, I will be there to catch you in my arms.

Sweet and bitter child, I will pour into you all that you lack, until your empty cup overflows with tenderness. Until you begin to craft your own dreams from the ones I have given you.

Until the love that brought you back is the love you offer freely, tender and fearless, just as you were meant to be.

[luniarix]

FAVORITE FOLLOWER

ᥫ᭡synopsis : you have a mysterious follower who has been swiping up on your stories to flirt with you, and when you finally stop hesitating to reply back, he’s quick to make sure he sweeps you off your feet. if you let him, of course.

ᥫ᭡NOTE : the texts are a bit cut off, and i rlly don’t know how to fix it since it’s an app thing so :’))) (and don’t mind the dates on the texts(´；ω；`) it was too much of a hassle to change em LMAO) but just know that toji is complimenting you in each text you sexies <333

CW : fem!reader, chubby!reader, shy!reader, fluff, flirting, gentleman!toji, biker!toji, reader being an overthinker, slight angst (reader’s inner thoughts), talks of insecurity and reassurance, long distance!au, texting!au (with some cheesy texts), toji pining after u first o(｀ω´ )o, the bff is up to interpretation of your own gals :-)

a prequel to *⁀➷ 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜

“did he swipe up again?” your best friend asks, taking a bite out of the fruit bowl she was indulging in. you chew on your bottom lip, a way to try and suppress your lingering smile as you glance at her. “uh—yeah.” you breathlessly say, staring at the dms between you and another user.

toji was his name. you knew that much by his user and the way friends addressed him in the comments. he was a mysterious person, because although he posted himself, it was never much of his face. he was a biker, and he’d usually post the late night drives he went on. so that means, his helmet was all you could usually see.

but oh god, even if he didn’t show his face, everything else about him was so sexy. you just knew that he was so, so handsome. your best friend never fails to mention that huge possibility when the topic of toji himself is brought up—and intrigues you even more about who he really is.

“what’d he text you?” your friend asks, raising a brow as she sees the way you’re trying to hide the growing smile as you’re staring at your phone screen. you clear your throat, trying to act nonchalant. “nothing, he just said that i look pretty from my story.” she stares at you with a knowing look.

“let me see.” she gets up to walk over to you, curiosity and excitement written all over her face. you bashfully hesitate to show her your screen, but when you do—she’s practically geeking.

“girl why haven’t you replied to him yet?!”she scrolls up to see that he’s been consistently replying to your stories for a while, and you’re looking away from her piercing stare.

“2 and a half months of him flirting in your dms? and you’ve only been liking his texts?babes c’mon!! you should answer him!” your friend playfully hits her hips with yours and you groan. “well i would but—but i just haven’t had the courage to.” you place your head down, folding your arms under your head as support. your friend scoots closer towards you and places your phone right beside your elbow.

“just start by responding to his most recent flirty text to the picture you posted the other day.” you raise your head up again and grab your phone, glancing at your friend anxiously. she winks back at you in reassurance. you huff and slowly straighten your back, staring at your screen as you try to think of how to finally respond to him.

spring had just started rolling around, and the picture you posted on your story was of you in a long sleeve body con dress. you didn’t look anywhere near extravagant, as it was simply supposed to be an outfit out for a arcade night with your friends. but the way toji complimented you, you might as well have been wearing a dress to some gala.

he always had a formal way of complimenting— and if you were being honest, you liked it so much more than what other men were complimenting you with.

u fine asf. u send? and yo u sexy, let me hit pls aren’t exactly what a girl wants to hear as a conversation starter.

you suck in your bottom lip, chewing on the soft skin as you begin to type. you wanted to respond at one point, but with how highly he praised you, you shied away from flirting back as you felt a bit intimidated by him— more so because he was so mysterious and the way he carried himself was intriguing. you wanted to get to know him, truly.

but if you didn’t live up to what he was expecting? if you end up making him pull away somehow? if he wanted more than you could give? if you weren’t enough?

the overwhelming thoughts of overthinking chipped away at your eagerness to reply back, and so you’ve been putting it off. but with the push of your friend, you decide that it’s time to finally pull up those big girl panties and text the man that has been complimenting you in ways that has you swooning over and over again.

you decided that it’d be best to respond with a simple thank you, as you were still nervous as to how to start a conversation with him.

you stare at the screen as you groan, cringing at your own texts as you believed that maybe you should’ve said something different. you began to debate if you should just delete the text and say something else, but the more you thought about it the more you got into your own head. it wasn’t until you see the words “seen” under your texts that you begin freaking out.

“oh my god he’s texting—what the fuck!!” you panicked as you threw your phone across the table and began to fan yourself. your friend stares at you before cracking up, grabbing your phone as she hears a ding. “he texted you back already? girl he want you so bad. hurry up and reply!” she tosses your phone back to you, and you groan as you try to calm your nerves.

this was so stupid, it’s not like this was the first time someone was sliding up your dms—but it was different with him. toji was someone who you’d started crushing on the first time he swiped up. so like, freaking out was a normal reaction no?

“hurry up and check what he said!!” your friend ushers you while laughing to turn your phone back on as you playfully swat her away. you go back to instagram, and you can’t help but get flushed all over again.

you wince in shame. of course he would ask you as soon as you replied back—after all, you did keep him hanging for 2 and a half months while he was basically flirting with the wall in your dms. but he can’t blame you! you liked all of his texts, and you were just too shy (more like hesitant) to respond back until now! he’ll understand, right?

you sigh at the utter arrogance of that thought process. but you had to be honest with him, you knew that. but starting off a conversation in which you explained your insecurities and overthinking with him wasn’t a good first impression for yourself for a man that could blossom into someone more than a stranger—so you decided to give him a short yet truthful answer.

maybe, if (when) you two had the chance to grow into something more in the future, you would answer him in full.

if you were being honest, it’s quite endearing to know that toji’s clearly been waiting for your responses, and he’s now typing back. you tug at your oversized shirt as you let out a sigh of relief.

it was an exhale that you didn’t even know you were holding in.

you softly laugh at your silly overthinking, realizing how much you let the thoughts consume you that you hadn’t even given yourself the chance to get to know toji.

it seemed frightening the longer you pondered the interaction, and you probably should’ve done this a while ago.

after all, the things that frighten us within our minds tend to be less scarier when we’re actually faced with them.

“so how’s the convo with mysterious biker going?” your friend's soft-spoken voice brings you out of your inner monologue. you turn your body slightly towards her as you place your phone down to calm your nerves. they were good nerves, though. you were excited to finally get to talk to him.

a small but glowing smile forms on your lips as you prop your elbows on the table, resting your chin on your palms. "it's going good—and we're getting towards an actual conversation." your friend doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle with giddiness, and she grins at you. “okay girl, see—i told you you should’ve texted him way sooner.” she gives you a pointed stare and you avert your gaze embarrassedly.

“i know,” you sheepishly shrug your shoulders, grabbing your phone again to look at what toji said. “i might have been holding myself back from letting him in—even if it was for just a moment.” you admit, words slowly dying out as you stare at your screen.

oh my. did he just call you mamas? and he’s been wanting to get to know you? he’s been wanting you? this whole time?

you almost let out a loud squeal, but you cover it up by keeping your fist near your mouth, muffling the giddy noise you made. was it even possible to fold this fast in a conversation? because surely, you knew by now that you didn’t want to stop here.

you almost didn’t even notice the change of texting toji had because of how exhilarated you felt, but you found it so cute as you believed it to be him getting more comfortable with you.

oh, you should’ve—really should’ve—talked to him much sooner. but you shouldn’t dwell on it anymore, as you still ended up talking to him. you begin to type, cheeks hurting from how hard you’re grinning, and your head in cloud 9.

“so,” your friend starts, having you turn your attention to her once again. "i see that you and toji are hitting it off pretty well, huh?" she raises her brows at you teasingly. you laugh, nodding your head in response.

“yeah… i—” you cut yourself off, trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words. “i thought that it would be really intimidating if i ever talked to him, but i realized that i was just… afraid, i guess?” you timidly shrug your shoulders, because admitting how you felt out loud made you realize how trivial your hesitation actually was.

“now you know, hm?” your friend gives you a warm smile, knowing that the realization had hit you. she doesn’t tease you about it, nor does she make any more comments besides that.

no one should be forced to step out of their comfort zone if they aren't ready to do so anyway.

you give her a toothy-grin, nodding energetically. you were ecstatic—to say the least. “i’m not sure where this’ll go but i really want to take that leap—he’s super sweet and so cute.” your friend whistles in agreement. “look at what he’s said then!”

and so you do.

a sudden surge of warmth blooms and spreads throughout your chest, reaching up your neck and spreading across your face. you were warm, but it (mostly) wasn’t because you were swooning for toji once again—it was because you felt like this was the start of something new.

you had a gut feeling that this was going to be a long, and most definitely exciting new journey. and this time; you weren’t hesitant.

feel free to leave ideas in my inbox or a comment ♡ if i made any grammar mistakes that i missed, lmk! and thank u so much for reading (●´ω｀●)

[heliosunny]

I have a request for a lovesick fyodor. How he would be with a darling that he loves so much and how possessive he would be of her.

LOVESICK

The first time Fyodor Dostoevsky walked into the library, you hardly noticed him. He was just another visitor, albeit one with a quiet, almost unsettling aura. You were busy organizing a stack of books, your hands moving with practiced ease as you shelved a collection of philosophical works. But then, his voice broke through the silence-low, smooth, and deliberate.

“Do you have anything on Nietzsche’s unpublished letters?”

You turned, and there he was, dressed immaculately, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you pause. There was something magnetic about him, something you couldn’t quite place.

“We do” you replied, motioning toward the far corner of the library. “Second shelf from the top. Let me show you.”

As you walked him to the section, you felt his gaze linger on you, not in an overtly intrusive way but as if he were trying to commit every detail to memory. When you handed him the book, your fingers briefly brushed, and you caught a fleeting smile on his lips.

“Thank you” he said, his tone almost reverent. “I’ll take care of this.”

The next time he visited, he approached the desk with a question that caught you off guard.

“I’ve been reading ‘Thus Spoke Zarathustra’” he began, setting the book down on the counter. “Nietzsche’s prose is… evocative, but don’t you think his aphorisms feel like riddles that only he understands?”

You looked up from your work, surprised by the directness of his question. “That’s part of his style” you replied thoughtfully. “He wanted readers to wrestle with his ideas, to find their own interpretations rather than being handed answers.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “You’ve thought about this before.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about Nietzsche.” you admitted, gesturing to the shelves around you. “Working here gives me access to more books than I could ever hope to read.”

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “you choose to spend your time pondering Nietzsche. What is it about his work that fascinates you?”

You hesitated, then said: “It’s not just his work. It’s the way he wrestled with questions of meaning and morality. He didn’t shy away from difficult truths, even when they made him an outcast.”

Fyodor’s gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. “An outcast” he repeated softly. “I suppose that’s something I can relate to.”

From that day forward, Fyodor’s questions became more frequent and more probing. He asked about your favorite authors, your thoughts on Dostoevsky’s exploration of guilt and redemption, and whether you believed in the idea of a “superior man” as posited by Raskolnikov. He listened to you with an intensity that was both flattering and unnerving, his dark eyes never leaving yours as you spoke. To you, he was a curious, enigmatic patron. To him, you were the center of his world.

One afternoon, he approached the desk holding a copy of ‘The Brothers Karamazov.’

“Do you think Ivan was justified in his rebellion against God?” he asked, setting the book down gently.

You glanced at the book, then back at him. “Justified? Maybe. But was he right? That’s a different question. Ivan’s rebellion is more about his pain than his logic. He wants a world where suffering doesn’t exist, but that’s an impossible ideal.”

Fyodor’s lips quirked upward, a rare and fleeting smile. “You’re not afraid to challenge his ideals. That’s rare.”

“Books are meant to be challenged” you said simply. “That’s how we grow as readers… and as people.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed almost vulnerable. “You’re an intriguing person” he murmured. “This library doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond. Before you could say anything, he inclined his head and walked away, leaving you to wonder what he had meant. Despite your kindness, you only saw him as a regular patron—someone who frequented your quiet sanctuary. For him, though, you were so much more.

That day was the beginning. Fyodor became a regular visitor, often lingering in the quiet corners of the library. At first, he asked you questions about obscure texts, theories, and historical anecdotes. But over time, his questions became less about the books and more about you. What you liked to read, your thoughts on the world, what you thought about solitude. You found yourself drawn to him despite the unsettling air he carried. He listened to you as though every word you spoke held profound importance, his eyes never leaving yours.

What you didn’t know was that Fyodor was becoming obsessed. To him, you were a masterpiece of calmness and intellect, a rare light in a world he found insufferably chaotic. He loved the way you moved through your days with quiet grace, the way you brought a sense of peace to even the most mundane tasks. You had become his anchor in a world he wanted to destroy.

-----

One day, he stopped coming. At first, you told yourself it didn’t matter. He was just a visitor, a fleeting presence in your quiet world. But as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, you couldn’t help but wonder where he had gone. You missed his conversations, the way he seemed to hang on to your every word. You missed him.

Then, one rainy afternoon, he returned. He was different. Pale and gaunt, his usual composed demeanor was replaced by exhaustion. His clothes were slightly disheveled, and there was a faint scar on his temple that hadn’t been there before. His hands trembled slightly as he clutched the edge of the counter where you worked.

“You’re back!” you said, your voice filled with surprise and relief.

He gave you a weak smile. “Did you miss me?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Where have you been? You look… unwell.”

“I’ve been away...” he said vaguely, his tone soft but evasive. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m here.”

Despite your better judgment, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern. You led him to the library’s small lounge and insisted he sit down. He looked at you with something akin to awe as you fussed over him, bringing him tea and insisting he rest.

“You’re too kind.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Nonsense” you said firmly. “Just rest. We can talk later.”

What you didn’t know was that during his absence, Fyodor had been embroiled in battles with the Armed Detective Agency. He had faced danger, orchestrated victories, and emerged triumphant. But it had taken a toll on him, both physically and emotionally. Through it all, thoughts of you had kept him going. You had become his reason, his anchor.

-----

For weeks, he stayed close to you, his visits more frequent and his presence more consuming. He seemed calmer, softer even, when he was with you. But there was something beneath the surface, something he wasn’t telling you.

Then one day, while organizing a new shipment of books, you stumbled upon a note. It was hastily scrawled, a list of names and locations that meant nothing to you at first glance. But the tone of the note was dark, and the implications sent a chill down your spine. When you confronted Fyodor about it, his reaction was not what you expected.

“Where did you find this?” he asked, his voice cold and measured.

“In one of the books” you said. “Fyodor, what is this?”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“What does it mean?” you pressed, your voice trembling. “What have you been doing?”

He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating. “It doesn’t concern you” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “What matters is that you’re safe. I’ve made sure of that.”

“Safe?” you repeated, disbelief coloring your voice. “Fyodor, I don’t even know who you really are.”

He smiled then, a cold, haunting smile that sent a shiver down your spine. “You know enough. You know I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

You shook your head, fear and confusion swirling in your chest. “I don’t understand. What have you done?”

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I’ve done what I must. For us. For the world I want to build. And now that you know, there’s no turning back.”

-----

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened ever so slightly. “You don’t need to be afraid” he said softly. “I’ll protect you from everything. Even yourself, if I must.”

Despite your fear, a part of you couldn’t deny the pull he had on you. He was dangerous, yes, but there was a vulnerability in him that made you hesitate.

Fyodor’s lips brushed your forehead as he whispered, “You’re mine now. And I’ll make sure the world knows it.”

From that day forward, your life was no longer your own. Fyodor’s love was all-consuming, his possessiveness absolute. He would do anything to keep you by his side, even if it meant tearing down the world and rebuilding it in his image. And though you fought to hold on to your sense of self, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was already too late.

[krunklys]

Why Batcest is a Thing

I was talking with my friend the other day and while she's not a batcest shipper, she asked me why I was. I said that I don't think I take it to the same extremes some other people do, a few things that aren't a personal favorite of mine would be any of the REALLY younger kids with Bruce or say Dick and Damian. It's mostly the age gap that gets to me.

But she asked why I liked JayTim and I had a time explaining it to her and I wanted to bring it here as a sort of explanation, I suppose for people who might not enjoy batcest ships.

first of all, the name. Batcest is... an interesting name. A lot of arguments you'll come across is that they're not actually related, or there are some fanfics out there for aus where one of them (most commonly Tim or Jason) were never apart of the Batfamily in the first place. Of course, there are some where they are! Because, at the end of the day, in Canon they do share a family. But the implication of it being incest can be a real no no for people, even if it's not. Dick wasn't adopted into the family for quiet some time (I think he was adopted around the same time Tim was but I'm not a 100% sure, not to mention he acted as his ward and then aged out of it), Jason was adopted but after his return to life has regularly denied his part in the family (Look at literally any Red Hood Comic, though I do prefer to look at the New 52 Red Hood and The Outlaws for his feelings towards Bruce and the Wayne's in general), Tim was adopted but was later emancipated (in Red Robin), and Damian has a blood relation to Bruce only. Morally, there can be a problem with it but for mow shippers, since this is fiction, the lack of blood relation means there's no problem. Remember! They're not real people. Adoptive relationships, or pseudo familial ones, they don't see these relations as any reason to not ship them! And in later points, I go into why. And if people really had a problem with this pseudo familiar relationships, take for example Tim and Jason who have never once lives under the same roof nor have any legal connection to each other through Bruce, then on principal alone they should have a problem with Cassandra and Stephanie - Cass is adopted by Bruce, yes, but Bruce has also claimed Stephanie as part of the family and includes her in family talks. Does that not make them family members? No. They're friends or girlfriends, depending on how you want to interpret them.

Secondly, the canon relationships that any of the Bats have with their partners. I could go through all of them and explain the nuance of the relationships but I'll simplify for the sake of the post. In Bruce's sake, whether it be Talia or Selina or for the more fanon ones like Clark and Min Khoa (i think that's how you spell that, I'm not sure though!), there's no denying that in Canon these relationships don't pan out. Talia and Bruce have moral problems, even if she was originally a spy and didn't kill, and Selina and Bruce have an entire history of problems. For Dick, himself and Barbara are much of the same. A sweet beginning until something comes in to ruin it and they break up. Take, for example, the newest Nightwing run (on webtoon and not technically canon, i know). Barbara breaks up with Dick because she feels disconnected from him and like he's still preforming for her, but they have no conversation about this prior to it. With Kori, I'm not as knowledgeable about why they broke up, all I know is that they did and it was ugly. Another example is Tim! Himself and Stephanie didn't work out because she couldn't trust him, due to now knowing his identity, and then she faked her death, causing the distrust between them both. These are only a few examples of how relationships work out for Bats and in my personal opinion I think it's because of a ack of understanding for the characters, their love interests I mean. And in fanon, partners for Batfamily members tend to be washed down - Kon acts as an emotional crutch for Tim, Roy has morals he simply does not stand with anymore in Canon in JayRoy fics, Barbara is an anecdote in DickBarbara fics, and Selina is barely featured in Bruce fics. Not to mention the simple lack of wlw fics in the fandom that aren't background.

Due to this, the shipping of Batfamily members together is only natural. The characters share similar morals or in the case of Tim have such complicated morals that in fandom you can pick and choose what to use. They're fleshed out, have a canon relationship with multiple layers to it, and complete each other in many ways. In comparison to some of the fandom favorite ships like SuperBat or BirdFlash, where we only see a two dimensional aspect of their relationship recently, then the shipping of characters like Jason and Tim or Tim and Dick together is a natural conclusion to reach.

And Finally, History and old characteristics. It was mentioned before in another post that I'll try to hunt down for you guys and link in a repost because it will be WORLDS better than what I could write and have much more research thrown into it than this does, but originally there were a lot of implications under their relationships, specifically Bruce and Dick. Wardships programs were used by a lot of gay people when gay marriage was illegal, so were adult adoptions. It was to have a legal connection in whatever way possible. And I think in a really old comic, Dick has a dream where he's living in the manor as an adult still with Bruce. Bruce has a portrait of them together. They eat breakfast together in their pajamas or underwear, and spend all their time together. Batman regularly saves Robin over civilians and for his relationships, sometimes they wouldn't work out simply because of Dick. It worked this way for many Superheroes and their sidekicks in the "golden age" of comics! Batman has always had queer undertones since his creation but adding Robin into the mix just proved this. Like it or not, Bruce and Dick had sexual and romantic implications to their relationship since the character was first introduced in the 40s.

As for Old characteristics, in the New 52 i feel as though some of the characters have been washed down do their base characteristics. They lack depth in a way some characters don't or in a way some do, particularly in fanon. Dick's possessive originally and I see people talking about his anger issues as a child a lot, especially in comparison to Jason's Robin run, but either way - the characters have changed throughout the years. That doesn't mean that people can't cling on to their old relationships or even their old personalities. People are so fond of making Jason insane and crazy and Hella mean when in recent adaptations, he's a normal vigilante for all intents and purposes. He's not even a crime lord anymore, I'm pretty sure he still owns the Iceberg Lounge. That's all to say that the boys used to be a lot closer than they are now, especially Tim and Dick and Dick and Bruce.

The conclusion to my explanation to her is that batcest is much of the same as any other ships - picking and choosing what to take from canon to put two people together into a relationship that you like. It's a work of fiction and while that's important to remember, it doesn't say anything about you in real life! you don't enjoy real life incest if you like JayTim. That's all to say si that there's reasons behind it that some people like and some people don't. She wasn't swayed by my answer but accepted it since she couldn't deny that the Batfamily has been explored on and their relationships together so much more than their relationships with anyone else, canon or fanon.

[hard-core-super-star]

make every mistake [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you run into your ex at the vanity fair party, almost a full year after your breakup, and are forced to accept some hard truths.

warnings: technically none; bitter exes being bitter but also getting distracted; A LOT of references to cheating [very open to interpretation, though; more than one reference to JA; rubix please get over sunkissing challenge; did not proofread at all so it might not make the most sense at times; does this count as a ventfic?

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: i was supposed to be writing something else [what a surprise lmao] but...it's sunkissing's anniversary and unfortunately, that song still means a lot to me and i needed to be nostalgic for a second. plus, last year's vanity fair party is what inspired me to start writing fanfiction again so...consider this a very weird, bitter, and nostalgic first anniversary celebration. i hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your love, support, and patience this past year, i plan to continue writing for you guys for a LONG while <3 [and yes, this is sunkissing (sad girl edition)]

* * * * * * * Whoever coined the phrase,”wrong place, right time,” as a good thing seriously owes you some compensation. It implies that there could be something possibly good in the situation you’re in but what could be good about being stuck at the same party your ex is also at?

Of course, that person might get along with your friends who have been trying to convince you that this situation is a fantastic opportunity for you to show how happy you are. Something that would work if it were true.

But it’s not.

How could happiness be anywhere on your radar when every time you interact with someone, they’re quick to remind you your ex-girlfriend is currently parading around with a quarterback? Not to mention, the amount of cheating rumors hasn’t been helping you feel much better about the situation.

Maybe you’re overly petty or arrogant, maybe even codependent, but time has done little to heal the wounds caused by a certain actress.

Which is why you were supposed to be out having fun in the first place…although maybe all of this could have been avoided if a certain 22-year-old hadn’t lied her ass off and told you there was no chance in hell your ex would show up.

All you know is you’re stuck in a room full of people you don’t care about, anxiously looking around every few minutes hoping you won’t run into her. It’s exhausting but it’s also highly addictive.

You’re in the middle of debating ditching Billie and the rest of your friends instead of torturing yourself for another hour when you catch a glimpse of the person you’ve been trying to avoid all night. 

Your eyes find her for just a few seconds and yet the whole world seems to stop all at once. 

Just like the first time.

You wouldn’t say you have a habit of romanticizing the past…except when it comes to Hailee Steinfeld and her ridiculously enchanting energy. A lot of things have changed since the day you met but the one thing you’re sure will remain a part of you forever is the way your heart takes off running when she's around.

Running away would be easy. It would probably be the solution to your impending problem and yet you stay. Because as much as you hate to admit it…you’ve missed her. Seeing just a glimpse of her feels like ecstasy after spending so long trying to erase the thought of her from your mind.

You know you’re chasing after someone who isn’t even there anymore, someone who vanished the day Hailee chose to go out to dinner with that guy instead of coming home to you. The person you love has been shoved back into far more closets than you can count but you’re an addict and the thought of getting her back for just a few minutes gives you a greater high than anything else ever could.

So, despite the thousands of reasons not to, you find yourself walking toward her. You tell yourself it’ll be fine, she’s in the middle of ordering a drink and the chances of her paying attention to you are close to zero.

You quickly learn close to zero isn’t enough.

You arrive at the bar right when she’s turning around to go back to whoever it is she’s pretending to get along with tonight. Her eyes instantly find yours and whatever liquid courage you had fades away in that very same instant.

For a second, you expect her to walk away without even acknowledging your presence, but then her mouth opens. “I can���t believe you actually left the house for this.”

There were a thousand sentences you were hoping to hear her say and the one she chose is nowhere on it. It does nothing except remind you of all the infuriating reasons why you can’t be around her anymore.

“Gee thanks, don’t sound too excited.”

She merely shrugs, acting like she can’t see the way your smile drops. “Just being honest.”

At some point in your relationship, you would have made fun of her for sounding so much like the characters she loves to play on TV but today, her attitude pisses you off like nothing else.

“Honest, huh?” You scoff. “That's gold coming from the cheater.”

There’s a flash of something in her eyes, mostly annoyance, and you know damn well that’s exactly what you’re looking for. A sign that she’s still human despite how much she loves to pretend like she doesn’t have feelings anymore.

Unfortunately, you’re sure her reaction has more to do with the fact that you’re in a room full of people who could overhear you than anything else.

“Oh, come on. I didn't cheat on you,” she says in the exact same tone as all the times before.

“Right, right, you just casually had dinner with your new boyfriend while we were still dating.”

A crack begins to form in her facade but you’re too annoyed to celebrate. 

All she does is groan before placing her drink down on the bar and coming toward you. She wraps her hand around your arm, seemingly unaware of the sparks her touch ignites, and drags you toward the first secluded area she finds.

“Are we seriously going to have this fight again?” She questions you once you’re away from prying eyes.

“Sure,” you reply. “The only thing we ever do is fight.”

“Stop acting like I’m the only one in the wrong here. We both made mistakes.”

You scoff. “You’re right, I trusted you wholeheartedly. What a stupid mistake.”

“Oh my God.” She throws her hands up, frustration dripping out of her every pore, and yet she makes no move to walk away from you. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Changing isn’t always such a good thing. Just ask Martini and Brando, I bet they love the weather in Buffalo.”

It’s another cheap shot and you know it. Most of all, you see it. The flash of hurt that lingers in the eyes you know so well. 

“Don’t,” she warns.

You can’t stop yourself from adding more fuel to the fire despite her warning. “Why? Is that more honesty than you can handle?”

“y/n, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re right, I don’t know. Because I have no idea who you are anymore.”

It suddenly strikes you that you’ve had the same exact conversation with her before. You don’t know why you keep doing the same thing and hoping for a different ending. Especially considering Hailee is the most stubborn person you’ve ever met.

“You’re not the only one,” she says with a sigh, practically deflating in front of your eyes. “Believe it or not, you’re not the only person I’ve disappointed lately.”

“No offense but that’s the most accurate thing you’ve said in a while.”

A small chuckle escapes her and the sound instantly brings you back to simpler times. To spontaneous dates at the beach, random car drives to the middle of nowhere to watch the sunset, sleepless nights spent helping her rehearse for an early morning shoot the next day.

To being in love.

Back when your love actually mattered.

“Do you ever regret it?” You find yourself whispering into the space between you after a long silence. “Regret us?”

Her answer might split you in two but you're tired of the desperation that clings to you from the sheer amount of unsaid things that still linger in your mind. 

“No,” she replies, her voice so quiet you almost miss it. “I regret how things ended, I regret what I did to you…do you?”

You shake your head before you can stop yourself, the truth spilling out of you just as fast as the tears that painted your face the day she left. “I regret…how much I love you…how impossible it is for me to hate you.”

For a split second, you catch sight of the Hailee you once fell in love with. The one with warm eyes and the softest smile imaginable. The one who could easily break your walls down with a single chuckle. 

“Give it a few days,” she replies. “It’ll stop being so impossible.”

 It’s ridiculous how enamored her words make you. It’s also stupid and infuriating that no matter how badly you want to walk away from her, you can’t find a way to make your feet move. You’re stuck and that growing smirk on her face tells you she knows exactly how much you’re struggling.

“No witty comeback?” She questions, her head tilting slightly to the side in an almost mocking gesture.

“I’m just trying to decide if I should slap you or not.” Your words hold no real bite to them, even if you wish they did, and you both have to pretend neither of you notice the way you lean toward her.

Her eyes betray her as they slide down your face until they reach your lips. Her gaze rests there for longer than would be appropriate for an exchange between old friends. But you’re not old friends. You’re something more. Something that exceeds categories and reasons.

Something that rests completely in the space between your mouths.

It should be easy to turn away from her…but it isn’t…and you can’t stop yourself from meeting her half-way when she leans in close enough for you to feel her breath on your lips.

It’s a mistake.

But it’s one you make as easily as falling in loving her.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

To Find What Once Was Lost

Warnings: None really. Some angst. Regrets.

Summary: Y/N has found Dean, can she find what they lost when she said goodbye?

Pairings: Dean x Y/N

Word Count: 1250

A/N: So this fic is a sequel to Love Misunderstood. That little drabble was written just over a year ago, and I've been meaning to write this almost ever since.

@paarthurnax59 sent a very kind ask inquiring about a part 2 for them, and I was quickly inspired to write this sequel. It's more than twice as long as the first one - sorry! Couldn't keep this one short and sweet. 😏

Anyway, hope you all enjoy them both!

P.S. For reference, I pictured the first part of the story taking place when Dean was around 22 or 23. (2001/2002 - ish) This one is supposed to take place almost 11 years later, when Dean was 33/34 (2012/2013 - ish.) So around season 8. But there's room for interpretation as your imagination prefers. 😊

The day he stepped back into my life was just an idle Tuesday. I’d spent more than a decade avoiding him one way or another, either by design or by accident. 

Then one Tuesday night in Stedman’s Bar and Grill - there he was, leaning against the bar, swirling a glass of cheap whiskey.

Dean Winchester. 

The boy that I loved without understanding that I did. The boy who told me he loved me just so I could stomp on his heart. The boy I regretted more than any other mistake I’d made, and I’d made a lot of them. 

I stared at him across the room and the first thing I realized was that he wasn't a boy anymore. 

In some ways he still looked exactly the same, the same perfect profile, the same wide, disarming smile, the same jewel-bright green eyes that widened with surprise when they caught mine from across the room. 

But as I stared at him, I saw the differences too. When I’d known him, he’d been tall and muscular, but still a little lanky, as though he hadn’t quite grown into his size yet, like a puppy.

Now, he’d definitely achieved his full potential. His body was thick and broad, sturdy, like an oak tree - one that had weathered years and years of storms.

As he walked slowly towards me, his glass of whiskey in hand, I could see the changes in his face too. He was still inordinately beautiful - there was something almost surreal about that kind of beauty - but there was a warning in his eyes now, a set to his mouth that was harder. His smile was more cautious, less automatic.

He approached my table and my heart beat wildly. Then he spoke and I realized another big change.

“Hey, Y/N, long time no see.”

Like the rest of him, his voice had matured, deepened significantly. It was rougher, harder. But it had also gained the power to make an electric shiver run up my spine.

I tried to remember how to smile, as I greeted him. “Yeah, a long time. How…how are you?”

He shrugged and gestured to the chair across from me, questioning. I gave a nod. “Yeah, please, sit.”

He sat down and took a sip from his glass. “I’m good. You?”

I laughed lightly, nervously. “Well, over the last ten years or so?” I tilted my head. “Mostly okay.”

He frowned. “Hasn’t been ten years.”

I nodded. “You’re right, closer to eleven.”

I saw realization slowly dawn in his eyes and I chuckled. “Yeah.”

A charged silence descended and I knew we were both remembering that last meeting. I knew my memory of it was shrouded in regret and pain. How did he remember it?

As the time that bitch ripped his heart out? Puppy love for an unremarkable and undeserving girl? Or was his memory of me muted and fuzzy around the edges? 

Was I just a distant memory he had trouble accessing? 

I wanted to ask him, but I couldn’t. Because what if I told him I remembered everything about our time together, that I remembered the way he smelled when he was fresh out of the shower, that I still make grilled cheese sandwiches the way he taught me, that I can’t listen to Nothing Else Matters because it makes me cry to remember the way he held me pressed close to him in the back of the Impala while it played softly over the radio.

What if I told him all those things and he remembered nothing, or he remembers and doesn’t care, remembers and curses my name, remembers and knows he dodged a bullet.

The endless what ifs kept my mouth sealed tight.

He cleared his throat. “So, still hunting?”

I nodded, grateful for the conversational lifeline. “Yeah, still at it. You too, from what I hear.” I smiled. “Thanks for uh…saving the world.”

He snorted softly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Yeah, no problem. Nothin’ else to do that day.”

I grinned. “Well, good thing.”

His smile softened slightly, and he sighed deeply. “Y/N Y/L/N.” 

I returned the soft smile. “Dean Winchester.”

In the renewed silence I heard a distant alarm bell going off in the back of my mind. For years I’d wanted the chance to tell him I was sorry, that I regretted hurting him, that he wasn’t wrong, it was love between us, that I’d been a fool. 

And now my mouth was sealed shut. But I was the one who did the hurting, and even though Dean was the one who walked out the door, I was the one who ended what we had. So, I had to be the one to speak first. 

With determination and terror I pried open my jaw and let my cartwheeling thoughts fall out.

“This is probably gonna be stupid and maybe you don’t care, or maybe you don’t wanna hear it, but I need to say I’m sorry.”

Dean was frowning. “No, Y/N-”

But I cut him off. “Please, yes. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long that I was the one who was wrong. I told you you were mistaken, that you didn’t love me, that we didn’t love each other, but I was so wrong. I was just a scared, stupid kid and I’ve regretted hurting you every day since. Because, you did love me, I did love you, it was real. Okay, maybe it was young and untested, but it was real. And…well, I’m just sorry I couldn’t understand that then.”

My voice got quiet. “I think about you a lot, and I always hope you’re well, happy.” I looked at him, my expression turning the statement into a question, and he just shrugged.

“I’ve been happy.” He paused a beat and then scoffed. “Been miserable and scared and broken, and stomped on quite a bit too.” He answered with a lopsided, heartbreaking smile. “But yeah, I’ve been happy.”

He caught my eye. “I’m happy now.”

My heart grew and thumped against my ribcage and I couldn’t help the tears that came to my eyes. I blinked them away and reached across the table to put my hand on his, smiling wide. “I’m happy too.”

He shook his head, inhaling deeply, and exhaling slowly. “Man, I’ll tell you one thing - I missed that smile.”

I felt myself blush and Dean chuckled and winked. “Missed making you blush too.”

I waved away his flirtations, though they made my pulse race, and I gave him a serious look. “Do you accept my apology? Forgive me?”

Dean’s face was gentle now, closer to the soft boy I remembered, though still forever altered. “Yeah, sweetheart. Long time ago. Life’s too short and mean to hold on to old hurts.”

A shy smile turned up the corner of his mouth and he stared into his whiskey. “Still think about you lots though too, still…still regret walking away.”

I squeezed his hand. “You’re right, gotta let go of those regrets.”

He looked back up at me and nodded. “Yeah, and maybe…?” 

I got lost in the forest of his eyes for a moment, but then raised an eyebrow in question. “Maybe…what?”

He shrugged, his expression sheepish. “Maybe start making new memories instead?”

There was a familiar warmth in his gaze that had goosebumps racing across my skin and the blush back in my cheeks.

“Yeah, definitely, new memories, new chances?”

He raised his glass of whiskey and winked at me again. “I’ll drink to that.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

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@deans-spinster-witch

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@suckitands33

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@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

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@ladysparkles78

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

@aylacavebear

@waywardcheshire

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

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[sonicjustbecause]

About Sonic

I never talked extensively about Sonic and what I think about him overall, despite him being my favourite (I see more Shadow as some mystical guy, alive certainly, yet somewhat more like a guide or a protector and Sonic's Shadow, but that's for another time as I talked about him a lot).

There is still this silly battle between Sonic fans on who is your favourite take of the character. The character has been inconsistent, in videogame too, even if we only take game/Japanese media (An example? Adventure Sonic is, at least the way I perceive him, mysterious and whimsical, joyful but slightly grumpy. Unleashed Sonic is calm, balanced, a bit quiet overall. The thing that remains consistent is that he is kind earthed and optimistic. Most of the time.

Even people who tell how Sonic is supposed to be interpret him very differently from each othes adn from the games, the way they make him talk or act in certain situation in their stories is not the same I see in videogames.

For Sonic unleashed I saw the whole cutscenes both in English and in Japanese, so...

Not that this bother me, as I previously said, since is a team who work on Sonic is normal different people have a different perception of the character, is based on our personal experiences. And in next years things will change over and over.

Let's talk about how is shown in various media, not necessarily Japanese since they influence each others (example the chili dogs).

SatAM, AoStH.

Aosth/SatAM Sonic was most likely the most mischievous incarnation of the character, since he apparently took joy to make fun of Eggman but also to the french coyote, Antoine, who is a sort of 'Luigi' in this show. I remember him as being creative, impatient, bold and very self confident, but not evil.

I didn't watch Sonic underground. It was aired in Italy but I don't know when. I can say nothing

OAV Sonic

Adventure Sonic and X Sonic traits start to appear here. This Sonic is aloof, whimsical and grumpy and not as joyful as we are used to see him. but is heart is ih the right place, of course.

Adventure Sonic

If I saw Sonic OVA only in latest years, I can say I played the two Adventure games early in the '00s. This Sonic feels to me as whimsical, elusive, mysterious (especially in Adventure 2, it is perceived as such especially by Shadow "Tell me, who are you?" and Sonic's answer is rather enigmatic, is also there you start to realize you know nothing about Sonic, where he comes from etc... you know the others better), still a bit grumpy yet way more joyful than the one from the OVA, a happy guy I would say.

In particular I loved the expressions in Sonic Adventure. Here come the folded ears you often see in Prime.

X Sonic

The most quiet of all. Elusive, still a bit whimsical and grumpy if you don't take him the right way, but this doesn't mean you lost him. Socially awkward and unaware of this, I think sometimes he is leaning in the Asperger territory sometimes. Joyful, optimistic, gentle, sometimes melodramatic and funny but he can get very serious when needed.

Archie Sonic

Archie Sonic is one I don't like much. He's self centered, most of his monologues tell how awesome he is, how good looking he is, how fast he is, well, 90% about himself and it go moldy soon. And can be a jerk toward his friends sometimes. Unlike other versions, he's never too serious.

Fleetway Sonic.

Unlike other sonic incarnation, Fleetway Sonic is a jerk, a bully, he constantly makes offensive jokes toward his friends, including Tails (in other media he is more protective toward Tails). He seems to care or express nice though only when his friends are not around. Is hard to read those comics. So far the worst Sonic

IDW Sonic

Not completely bad, not completely good. He got some traits from Archie Sonic. IDW Sonic seems to me the less sincere and less carefree of all. Like, Sonic we know is mostly feeling oriented. He can be thoughful when needed, but mostly he does what he feels is right rather than what he thinks is right. IDW Sonic is well known especially for his obsession of giving a second chance (and then a third, a four) to all his opponents. That is a thing Goku does and is fine because is true to himself. But Sonic is not like that. Sonic is not so merciful, he is a kind hearted character but there is still a red line and he tends to be wary toward those who don't deserve his trust, like Eggman. He forgives his enemies. After they show they're wort deserving forgiving, not before, unlike IDW Sonic. IDW Sonic is also cunning and can be manipulative, that's unique to this version. You can see the true sonic only when he is alone. Then he is more like himself, in his monologues about his friends, and how much he worries about them or appreciate them. Also his opinion of himself is not as high as the one we see in Archie comics. He is overall aloof.

Unleashed Sonic

This one is among the most gentle and down to Earth Sonic I've ever seen. He is slightly quiet and never a jerk. Instead he is fully supportive and encouraging toward his new friend Chip who is clumsy, despite being a god.

Frontiers Sonic

Sonic's personality changed again. He is still kind hearted, brave and strong. But compared tho before he is more mature, thoughful and slightly melancholic. He smiles less and I don't see his joyful exictment anymore. He just smiles when happy.

Boom Sonic

Sonic is usually elusive. Not in Sonic Boom. I perceived this incarnation as very playful and carefree, although an attention seeker.

Movie Sonic

Oh... this is one that goes through a character arc. He is shown to be a good hearted, hyperactive and lonely kid. He is very playful and talkative yet not gossipy. He talks alot just to not feel alone and took the bad habit. Once he found a family and some living being to talk with at times however, is shown he is not as sociable as you may assume by the way he lets his tongue run. He doesn't trust so easily people he meets the first time, as is shown with Tails and only later he feels more comfortable to have Tails around and opens up to him.

Prime Sonic

Another that goes into a character arc. Here he got new traits, like clumsiness, low attention span, affectionateness. And old ones like elusiveness. This Sonic is particularly interesting for some of his traits that are hard to spot. He clearly appears to be this impulsive, talkative (yet not gossipy), overconfident kid who trips on his feet and is deemed annoying (I personally don't find him annoying). He loves his friends and is ready to protect them but, before the prism shattering, is shown (and suggested by a conversation between his friends) that he also likes to spend time alone, without people around (here one trait that not many notice). Sonic is aware of his flaws and during his experience in the shatterverse he gets in touch with all of them, either the counterpart of his friends tell him or he realize his mistakes by his own. On the outside he is cheerful, a bit dimwitted sometimes, friendly. But as the serie goes forward, he is more, gloomy and pensive and he fully opens up only to Shadow and only later to the rest of his friends in the shatterspace (including Nine, who first sees through him). In the end of the serie is shown he is more considerate toward his friends and he hold some of his energies back.

What else? This is all what I can think of, I haven't played all the games. I may mention Sonic Cronicles, but there Sonic is the way you want him to be.

To me is hard to choose. As long as is not the one of Archie, IDW or Fleetway, I'm fine with all of them. My favourite might be Adventure Sonic and Prime Sonic.

[hestzhyen]

On Hakuri and 愛 (Pure Love)

Hello dear void. Here's a crazy character theory/interpretation for you: Sazanami Hakuri has no idea what love is supposed to feel like or be expressed as and it deeply affects his character to the point of being a major (and tragic) flaw. This is at least half the the reason why he's devoted to saving lives no matter the cost to himself, and he will continue to be this way until his lack of understanding is addressed and corrected. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Just kidding, of course there's a yapfest coming.

This was part of my usual weekly chapter rant until I realized it needed to be it's own thing. As to why I'm going on about this: blame the colour page. The captions get removed for the English publication, but there's always some text in the Japanese version. In this case, for our first-ever solo Hakuri colour page, we got: 胸に秘めたその信念- [mune ni hi meta sono shinen-; "The conviction(s) hidden in his heart..."] (My TL isn't perfect, but the sentence is simple enough that I'm confident I got it mostly right.)

Hidden, hm? Hakuri, the most zero-filter, living-in-the-moment, heart-on-his-sleeve guy in the Kagurabachi universe is hiding something? Of course he is! We just went through a whole arc about it!

The easiest conclusion to draw is that caption is talking about Ice Lady and/or the indoctrination he underwent growing up as a Sazanami.

He only mentioned Ice Lady as "someone who set [him] on the right path" to Chihiro in a flashback panel in chapter 34- no one in the cast except Hakuri knows what happened with her. He keeps her memory close but hidden from the world. Her suicide drives him to be a savior regardless of the cost to himself; he'll never let another life slip through his hands again even if he can't or won't talk about her. She's definitely his reason to exist as he is right now.

As for the indoctrination, growing up as a Sazanami means believing that you are a tool that lives for the Rakuzaichi. That sort of thinking is still present in Hakuri too- he just shifted the fervor from "honor the Rakuzaichi" to "make the world a safer place".

It's hard to say how much of his lineage he's hiding right now (if any at all) as of writing this, but Hakuri doesn't seem to be taking any precautions to keep people from finding out he's a Sazanami. He was even completely up front with Chihiro and Shiba about it and his family's mindset when they met! So he might not be cognizant himself about why he's so wholehearted in his devotion to a cause, but it's there in plain sight for anyone to remark on.

All that said, I'd like to posit that there's another 信念 -conviction or belief- that Hakuri's hiding- one that he's buried so deep that he doesn't realize it's even there, despite it being just as influential as Ice Lady. It's the depressing result of being raised as a "tool". Worse, a "useless" one.

Hakuri's deeply held belief in his own lack of worth is a key factor in his suicidal recklessness when it comes to acting on his other convictions.

"You poor thing. You're the one imprisoned in a cage."

It's all rooted in the Sazanami interpretation of "love", of course. Hakuri's warped view of affection is a key factor in why he's so goddamn reckless. He rejected the way his family viewed and treated other people like Ice Lady, but he hasn't spared any of that righteous anger for himself. He completely accepted how his family treated him and still holds the same mindset towards himself, whether he acknowledges it or not.

Because this is not something someone just shrugs off after an arc (not with a competent writer, anyway):

Most people would not frame this kind of blatant abuse as "love" in any way, shape, or form. And yet...

"When push comes to shove, Chihiro will abandon you!! He'll put himself first! But I'm not like him! I love you unconditionally..."

"Because... you always loved me..."

Hakuri and Soya both recognize Soya's feelings for Hakuri as not just any love, but as the deepest, purest love there is: 愛 [ai]. It's a horrific interpretation of something that's supposed to be almost unspeakably precious, but that's what the arc built the Sazanami clan's whole identity as villains around. It took key aspects of Chihiro's character -specifically his father's love and legacy- and warped them into something toxic to be put down through Hakuri.

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------* Before the panic sets in, I wanna say that ai is neither inherently nor exclusively romantic- that's 恋 [koi].

Mutual feeings of ai are the end-goal of many a romance story, yes. Everything builds up to that climactic declaration of 愛してる [aishiteru, "I love you"]. But ai can also be felt for family, friends, and even pets. It's for anyone the person builds up a profound enough affection for.

So Hakuri and Soya using ai to describe Soya's feelings isn't meant to imply romantic intentions (though I understand why some people ran with that interpretation). Actually, I will vehemently argue the opinion that these two using it at all means neither of them have a single clue as to what ai is supposed to look or feel like in any context. *----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

There's a reason Hakuri bitterly acknowledges Soya's abuse towards him as ai. It's the same reason Soya framed his abuse as acts of ai in the first place. It's not valid as justification, but it's understandable: they just don't know any better.

Kyora: "...Hey now, don't you love me?" Hakuri: "...? We love you." Tenri: "Of course we do."

There are multiple words for "love" in Japanese, but ai is supposed to be the deepest, sincerest, most profound and unselfish type of love there is. Ai is merely an imperfect term for an affectionate sentiment beyond words. If you have to clarify or explain your feelings as "ai", then they might not be ai in the first place.

Kyora throws around ai as something that can be used or withheld for any reason at all. Someone who truly felt ai for their kids would never do such a thing, much less consider it! But the Sazanami mindset corrupts even the concept of pure love and all of them are worse off for it.

So Hakuri only knows this ultimate form of love as abuse and manipulation. He believes that it's something conditional. Something painful.

Something he's not worthy of if it's positive, but earns if it's negative.

Any scrap of it he could get.

Contradictory and illogical? Yes. But if you understand why someone can wholeheartedly believe in that, I've got a hug or a fist bump or whatever you're comfortable with waiting for you.

Hakuri never talked about how far Soya -the manifestation of everything that was fucked up with his family- went to dehumanize him. Shiba and Chihiro got the "it wasn't so bad" version of the abuse. Just the beatings, no mention of the Visual Metaphor Tools he's still got hidden inside his storehouse. No talks about how he craved love with every fiber of his being but was tortured in the name of it over and over for years. No forced recognition that what was done to him would not be considered an act of love by any sane, rational human being.

The closest Hakuri's ever come to acknowledging that this might be an issue for him was when he asked to join Chihiro:

Taking the first step.

He's here for Ice Lady and to see if he can find out what Chihiro saw in him that made Enten a worthy trade for his "worthless", "useless" life. He's trying to understand why Chihiro regards him so highly as an "equal" as much as he's trying to be a savior. Both of these reasons drive him. But he only flashes back to one for motivation. He'd really rather not think about the other one (and hasn't outside of this moment).

No one alive knows what he truly endured and how it warped his perception of love and self-worth. He keeps his beliefs about his own worth hidden away in his storehouse as the peeler, wrench, chair, and more. Ice Lady had a glimpse, but he killed her with the loving Sazanami mindset that justified his own torture. He's carrying this burden alone and it's weighing on him and everything he's doing this arc.

So that's where we're at right now. Hakuri's reasons for acting the way he does are hidden alongside the beliefs about himself that he's yet to address, the combination of which is sending him into a self-destructive spiral. He won't be able to climb out of this mindset until someone can convince him that he's worthy of love just for existing- that ai is so much more than fists, metal rods, and calculated manipulation.

My hopes on how he learns this are obvious as a HakuHiro shipper, but I think it could easily come from everyone around him. Shiba, Char, Hinao, maybe Samura and Uruha and other characters we have yet to meet as well. All of them can help him let go of this hidden belief and replace it with something more wholesome. I just hope it happens before he loses something precious and irreplaceable.

[swelling-ftm-belly]

The Surrogate, pt.1

you always wanted to be a father, didn’t you? your husband finally agreed. He decided to show more support, you both had an agreement. it’s not like you didn’t try the other options that wouldn’t make your husband uncomfortable. adoption proved to be an excruciating path; you both agreed on exploring surrogacy. this is when I came into your life.

you came about knowing me from a mutual friend; we agreed to meet for the first time at that innocently quiet cafe at your posh neighborhood, your husband was, of course, there.

I remember the sting of jealousy I felt that day. you both looked like the dream couple, so handsome and accomplished, one in finance and the other in the fashion industry. and here I was, broke, with nobody to support me, and willing to offer up my boywomb for money.

I never interpreted the glint in your eyes everytime I opened my mouth to speak as attraction. you were kind, a kind, reliable man, your eyes shone with warmth, you were totally devoted to your husband, to starting a family with him. didn’t you?

that day, after I left, I didn't expect you to reach out again, your husband was, for some reason, visibly uncomfortable, eyeing me with a sharpness I couldn’t fathom. I decided to let it go, although I started fantasizing already about your baby growing in my belly.

to my surprise, you asked for another meeting. your husband was there, and that’s when you proposed your arrangement, you’re good at this, at convincing people, it must have taken your husband a lot of convincing.

you wanted us to do it the natural way, both of you ‘taking turns’ with me. you thought this would easily offer equal chance of you or your husband having a biological child, so you wouldn’t have to decide which one’s sperm will be chosen for surrogacy.

my mouth dropped, dry, but my pussy was already wet in my pants. your husband looked furious, and I wondered if he felt pressured to be onboard, while you looked at me with concern, and apologized for the indecent proposal. and I said I’ll think about it.

the thing is, I was a virgin, a total virgin, I never had a cock inside my pussy before. and I was doing this only for the money, I was ill-informed, I thought this was gonna be all in a lab in a very medical setting. they’ll give me an injection and I’ll have your money then carry the baby for 9 months and that’s it. but now, now, I didn’t know any more, it was already giving me feelings and fantasies I wasn’t prepared for.

my pussy was wet the whole way back from our meeting, and I masturbated that night to the image of you spreading my legs.

I sent you a text apologizing for not being able to be your surrogate. it was too much, and I got scared of the way it made me feel.

but your husband showed up the next day at the diner where I waited tables. Although still aloof and apprehensive, he begged me, dryly, to accept, he wanted his husband happy. and the thought of your unhappiness pained me, I knew I was developing a strong crush on you.

the agreement was that your husband arranges everything, and decides when we will meet to do it, how, and for how many times.

a week later i came to your place, a huge 3 rooms apartment, I saw that you had a baby room already.

your husband received me, and I couldn’t see you anywhere, my heart sank, and I resisted the urge to turn away and run. you were late to work, your husband said you were working late hours lately, in a frustrated tone, I wondered whether you were truly the dream couple i imagined you were.

I wondered if all this was your husband's last attempt to save the marriage, my thoughts got ahead of me when we heard the keys in the door, you were here. No kisses? your husband, tense and impatient, told you to join us in the bedroom quickly, you didn’t even manage to shower.

i got dressed first, your husband was supposed to be the first. despite his apparent resentment towards me, I was surprsed to see that he was already hard, did he get off of the fact that his husband was going to fuck another boy in front of him? maybe. I sat down on the bed, then laid there, spreading my legs, I ran my fingers over the lips of my wet pussy, your husband grunted, “no, on your knees.”

I sighed and changed position, I was aware of you, getting undressed, your breathing was loud, you were stroking your cock, I glanced at you, your eyes were dark and cloudy with an intensity I never imagined in you, you were so proper, so decent, so uptight. I felt the tip of you husband’s cock at my opening, he kept his erection, I was impressed. i bit my lip, and looked up to you, you were standing at the corner, looking at us and touching yourself, my pussy must be dripping right now, your husband saw you and that aggravated him.

he thrust into me, without a warning, he didn’t even take time to stroke my tdick, or tease the opening of my pussy with his tip, he thrusted hard, and violently, I think i heard him grunt, it was a low, quiet grunt, as if he was angry at his own, unexpected lust. he rammed into me without mercy, I moaned in pain, no pleasure yet, I was being plowed aggressively, his cock was at least 7 inch or more, and he was thick, it was tearing apart my virgin pussy, I heard myself say no, whimpering weakly, you approached us, concerned, my eyes welled with tears, and i held back a cry of pain, you were about to intervene, except that your husband grunted one last time and with a final, deep thrust, he exploded inside of me. i felt his cum, hot and prefuse, you two probably haven’t fucked in a while, it was a few weeks load.

I was still on all four, my knees shaking, my jaw clenched, you approached me, “hey, hey. you ok? Do you want to stop?” I was about to break down in tears, when your husband said, “no intimacy, you’re gonna fuck on all four too. let’s get done with it.”

you breathed hard, I felt your warm breath on my back, I perched my ass up to make it easier for you to enter me, your husband’s cum was dripping down my thighs, he went and turned on the shower, and you took the opportuning, your hand slid to rub my tdick, I kept quiet, you leaned forward, your nose in the small of my neck, you opened your mouth, and your tongue touched my skin, it sent me into a delirious kind of pleasure, i let out a sigh, your big, long fingers circling my clit, my vaginal lips, your other hand was on my mouth, for some reason, your husband chilled, perhaps it was a post-nut chill, he ignored us and went showering. you inserted two fingers in my mouth, and the two fingers of your other hand in my pussy, your thumb on my clit, giving me slight pressure, you kept me quiet, we were accomplices, we both knew your husband shouldn’t hear my moans of pleasure.

you felt he was about to be done with his shower, your tip was on my opening, you had the bigger cock, and I was prepared for more pain, except there wasn’t.

you managed to slid into me slowly, my pussy took your cock with such eagerness, it embarrassed me, your tongue was in my neck, in my earlobe, your mouth getting close to mine. and when you buried your cock, all the way in, up to my cervix, you stole a kiss, your mouth was wet, and warm, i felt your tongue, we heard your husband getting out of the shower, you held me, your hands moved down and rested on my lower belly, while your cock continued to thrust deep inside me, your husband was whistling in the bathroom, you were panting hard, your hips moving frantically, your hand gripping my belly, you whispered my name, “I want to fill you with my babies.”

I felt my womb ache and twitch, the tip of your huge cock ramming into my cervix, my pussy was gripping you so hard, my eyes rolled back from the intense pleasure, I whimpered, “yes, yes, put a baby in me, daddy.” I was shocked at myself, my womb, feeling so empty at the time, was desperate for your seed, I’ve never been so desperate. you grabbed my hips and thrusted into me, i felt a mix of intense pain and pleasure, I welcomed the pain, I welcomed the pleasure and I welcomed your seed inside me, I felt a fire burning in my womb. although you did eventually get me pregnant with your babies, I always wondered if it happened at that first time already.

We were spent. i collapsed on the bed, and you collapsed sitting on the floor, away from me, your husband was back in the room, I laid on the bed, legs spread and cum spilling out of my torn pussy. “you better get dressed now, sweetheart, we have dinner plans later tonight.”

TBC

[darkscorpiox]

Utena - Analysis on the opening

I don’t know if someone has already done it, but here’s my interpretation of the opening.

Warning: very, VERY long post and mention of scenes from the show, enough to be considered spoilers (sorry 😅)

Edit: I’ve made an analysis on the first ending as well

Let’s live heroically, let’s live with style. (Just a long, long time.)

The opening starts with our two main characters naked and in a fetal position, indicating their status of “newborn” in the story. Then, they are clad in the garbs of their respective roles. Interestingly, despite facing and leaning toward each other, their eyes remain close. In the case of Utena, it symbolizes her inability to see beyond her own narrative of the heroic prince saving the princess. As for Anthy, it’s her resignation to not see anything beyond her role of Rose Bride which she has played for decades/centuries, hence the long, long time.

Even if the two of us are torn apart… (Let go of me…) …take my revolution.

In the next sequence, not only are they not looking at each other, but they are also back-to-back, another indication that they are positioned to be at odds with each other, whether they want to or not. Still, despite the obstacles thrown at them, despite Anthy’s attempts to make Utena give up on her (“Let go of me…”), the latter doesn’t stop telling her to take her hand (revolution) and that’s what she did.

In the sunlit garden, we both joined out hands.

Miki’s sunlit garden is an idealized memory, so it makes sense to compare Utena’s goal of becoming a prince to the former. Also, the tower, where her journey is supposed to end with her heteronormative “happily ever after”, is where she and Anthy join hands and the latter’s revolution begins.

The sequence where Utena walks with the male students has a “one of the boys” kind of vibe and that might have been the intent. The tomboy character may appear progressive by refusing to conform to traditionally feminine gender norms, but that’s instead a sexist concept because it implies that Utena’s gender, her femininity (and by association, anything branded as “girly”), is the one thing that makes her less than her fellow male schoolmates. Also, she looks over her shoulder, something or someone (Anthy?) catching her attention which stops her from blindly following the other boys’ lead.

Drawing close for comfort, we both swore…

In Anthy’s case, due to her hair and skin color, the vibe she emanates as she walks with her fellow female schoolmates is “not like other girls”, another trope which hurts women by marginalizing the few “different/special ones” from the “normal/average ones” or vice versa. However, the reason she turned around (Utena? Her perspicacity?) is what helps her preserve the part of her identity which is still deep within her. So being different isn’t a bad thing as long as every person, especially girls, are given the same courtesy.

If you read the Japanese lyrics, you would know chikai (from chikau, meaning “to swear/vow”) is at the beginning of Anthy’s sequence, when we see the gates of Ohtori, where she swears to find Utena again.

(Also, did you notice that their respective sequences begin with a shot of where their story in Ohtori ends?)

…never again would we ever fall in love. (Every time.)

This line is sung as our two protagonists stand face to face in Anthy’s cage-like greenhouse, where the cycle of the quest for revolution always (re)starts. That vow of never falling in love again, along with that Every time, makes me wonder about how many games had taken place before Utena. How many times had Anthy been engaged to a “chosen one”? How many of those “chosen ones” did she grow to love, yet still choose to betray? How many times did she swore to never love another again only to do so despite said promise to herself? Utena, by ending the cycle, makes the vow mentioned before much sweeter: she and Anthy choose to never fall in love again because they have pledged their love for each other till death do them part (like a married couple 🥰🤵🏻‍♀️👰🏾‍♀️🥰).

I see that photo of us standing cheek to cheek… …and place a bit of my loneliness in our smiles. (Revolution!)

At this moment, the past represented by Utena and Anthy lying down, facing each other, and the future represented by the lyrics paralleled each other.

Past: a (naively) smiling Utena and a (falsely) smiling Anthy -> Anthy gives the white rose, the symbol of the Prince and by association, patriarchy, the source of her eternal pain, to Utena who is unaware of the dark history connected to it -> (failed) Revolution by dueling (transition to the dueling arena)

Future: the photo at the end of Episode 39 -> Anthy’s longing for Utena -> (successful) Revolution by leaving Akio

Even if I dream, even if I cry, even if I get hurt… …reality keeps on coming recklessly.

This sequence is about the Duelists.

Utena being the one who dreams is self-explanatory.

Saionji, if you pause at the right time, is seen with tears in his eyes. Behind his arrogant attitude is nothing but a mentally weak and insecure boy who throws violent tantrums when things don’t go his way.

Juri is no doubt the one most hurt in the series, not only because of her gender, but also because of her sexual orientation (I’ve made a post about it).

Miki and Nanami being the ones hit by reality makes sense due to the knowledge they idealize the relationship they shared with their respective siblings when they were children.

But what about Touga? Maybe it’s the confidence that he could get the power to revolutionize the (his) world if he emulates the system which had hurt him only to realize that such way of doing things won’t get him closer to his goal. Or, since he’s the first antagonist of the show, giving us a taste of what Akio, another male character whose inside is the opposite of his princely front, could do to girls, maybe he represents the reality/truth of the (imperfect) world.

All these Duelists, these teenagers, fight each other for a purpose and that later turns out to be futile after they find out that the rules they play by are a cover for a much more sinister plot.

I wanna find my own place, the value of being…

The first half, we focus on Utena who raises her sword with a determined look as the blue sky turned golden and the dueling arena crumbled. Utena rejects the narrative Akio wants for her and in the process, breaks the world he has created (and kept Anthy in).

While we zoom in on Utena, symbolizing her will to move forward, it’s the opposite with Anthy. Expression blank, she put some distance between her and Utena/the viewer(s), letting herself (her true self) disappear with Akio’s self-made world.

This sequence foreshadows what will happen in Episode 38.

…the person I’ve been until now…

But as it is shown in Episode 39, Anthy didn’t disappear in the fall of Akio’s world and stood up against her brother (riding a horse), mirroring Utena.

Also, we see Dios opens his eyes as the dueling arena crumbles to dust.

In Episode 13, Akio is conversing with a “sealed” Dios who “glare[s] at” him for wanting to bring the Prince back into the world. Dios had been “sealed away” because playing Prince had been killing him. Anthy had become the world’s sole target of their hatred so that he would no longer carry that great burden on his shoulders ever again. Dios is angry at Akio for not only trying to turn her sacrifice into a fruitless endeavor, but for also taking part in her eternal torment by making her an accomplice in his scheme.

Akio has internalized the teachings of patriarchy. He now idealizes the Prince, forgetting that his current self isn’t the result of Anthy sealing the latter’s power away. He had, of his own volition, casted away his “nobility” and enjoyed the privileges of his gender. He was free of the duties expected from the Prince yet chose to not use that freedom to search for a way to save his sister without taking on that mantle again. Protected by a patriarchal system, Akio is in fact afraid of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders again despite his desire to return to his “glory days”. He wants to be the Prince again (regression), but also doesn’t want to give up his life of privilege. There is no step toward self-improvement. And that’s why his quest for revolution is nothing but a pretext to play people like a fiddle, especially the vulnerable ones like children and women. I think he subconsciously knows he’s maintaining a perpetual cycle meant to end in failure, but he’s too lost in his self-centeredness to take a third option, to destroy the limits of his coffin. In other words, Akio must let patriarchy (manifested through the game and the dueling arena) disappear in order to regain the lost part of him that is Dios, because what the latter really wants is to live in a better world, one where Princes aren’t needed anymore.

Let’s find the strength to throw it all away. Strip down to nothing all.

Utena having the strength to throw everything away references her decision to give up on the heteronormative “happy ending” given to her at the cost of Anthy’s well-being.

Anthy being stripped of everything references her true (naked) self within her coffin.

Become like rose petals, blowing free!

Honestly, that part was a bit difficult to interpret. We do see petals blown in the wind when Utena beats boys at basketball, but the only time I saw them concerning Anthy (and by association, the duels) was when the Duelist gets “deflowered”, and I didn’t get a feeling of freedom from it. Or so I thought at first. Knowing that the duels are part of Akio’s plot which is nothing but a wild goose chase, it makes sense in the context that losing means some time away from Akio’s control and thus, a chance to reflect and for self-improvement. Also, if the dueling arena is like a groomed flower, then its rubble is the petals. This might be foreshadowed in Episode 9, when Anthy falls with rose petals scattered everywhere as Utena tries to catch her.

Even if the two of us are torn apart… …I swear that I will change the world.

We have a return of Even if the two of us are torn apart… (Let go of me…) / …take my revolution. This time, there’s no request to let go of the other party and Utena is taking the next step toward (self-)improvement. If you pause at the right time, you can see she is not in a fetal position like at the beginning of the opening. Now, it looks like she is opening herself to the real world.

Anthy is not present, but that’s because she hasn’t reunited with Utena yet. Until that day comes, the latter will keep fighting for the world both deserve to live in.

In conclusion, the opening is a summary of the entire series and foreshadows how it would end.