#literally everything about them is perfect

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What does my life look like once I hit my full potential?

Hope I make it out of here.

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PILE 1

Oh, bestie, I feel you on this. Balancing hustle and chill vibes is so important when you’re in that “level-up” era, especially with the Lovers card as your overall energy—it’s giving alignment and divine choices. Here’s the tea:

First, trust that this new career opportunity isn’t just a job; it’s a gateway to something magical. Your next lover is literally waiting for you on the other side of this. Like, how iconic is that? The universe is basically screaming, “This is part of your glow-up!”

But let’s keep it real: grinding too hard can mess with your flow. So, schedule your downtime like it’s a business meeting—whether that’s journaling, bingeing your fave show, or vibing out with a playlist that makes you feel main character energy. Chill time isn’t lazy; it’s necessary. You can’t pour from an empty cup.

When it comes to hustle, think of it like this: show up and give your best, but don’t overthink it. Be intentional, not overwhelmed. Remember, the Lovers card is also about harmony—so treat your hustle like a love story. Be passionate, but know when to step back and breathe.

And here’s the real plot twist: this opportunity isn’t just about meeting them. It’s about meeting the next, more evolved version of you. They’ll love that version of you, and so will you. So take the leap, but keep your soul soft. You’ve got this. ❤️

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

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PILE 2

Okay, imagine this: when you hit your full potential, your life looks like the perfect balance of confidence and rest. You’ve worked hard to know your worth and never settle, and now you’re living in a way that matches that energy. Think quiet mornings in a space that feels so you, reflecting on your growth while sipping your favorite coffee—unbothered and untouchable.

But here’s the thing: getting there doesn’t mean you’re grinding 24/7. You’ll learn that slowing down is the power move. For example, instead of saying yes to everything, you’ll get super intentional about what aligns with your long-term goals. If an opportunity feels off or doesn’t match your vision, you’ll confidently pass, knowing that better things are waiting.

That self-love you’ve mastered? It’ll make you a magnet for respect. People will see how deeply you value yourself and will match that energy—or they’ll fall off, and honestly, you won’t care. It’s like you’ll finally be surrounded by relationships, jobs, and opportunities that deserve you because you’ve set the bar so high.

Here’s the practical advice: stay open to adjusting your plans, even when it’s uncomfortable. Sometimes, what looks like a setback is actually setting you up for something bigger. For example, if one path feels blocked, don’t fight it—pivot. Trust that your ability to choose yourself will always lead you to the right place.

And don’t forget to rest without guilt. It’s okay to take breaks to recharge because that’s when your best ideas will come to you. Picture yourself booking a solo trip, splurging on the nicest accommodations, and using that time to dream even bigger while staying grounded in gratitude. You’re leveling up and protecting your peace, and that’s the ultimate glow-up. 🌱✨

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

PILE 3

Alright, picture this: once you hit your full potential, your life is like a perfectly designed blueprint, executed flawlessly. You’re running the show—waking up early, knocking out your goals, and moving through life like you own it. Your schedule is tight but purposeful, and everything you do feels like a step toward something even bigger.

You’ll probably have this fire inside you to keep starting new projects—like launching that dream business or taking on leadership roles that actually challenge you. People will look at you and think, Wow, they’ve really got it together. But behind the scenes, you’ll know it’s because you’ve built systems for yourself that work. For example, you might have a weekly ritual where you plan every detail, from career moves to self-care, so nothing feels chaotic.

That being said, you’ll need to make space for the unknown too. Life won’t always go exactly as planned, and that’s okay. Think of it like this: when things feel uncertain, don’t freeze up. Instead, take a moment, check in with yourself, and adjust. For example, if a big opportunity comes up and doesn’t look like what you expected, lean into it—it might just be the thing that pushes you further than you imagined.

And here’s a practical tip: track your progress. Maybe it’s a journal where you write down your wins every day, no matter how small, or a calendar where you block out “me time” just as seriously as work tasks. The key is staying grounded while keeping your eyes on the horizon.

Your focus on success will still fuel you, but it’ll feel balanced. Imagine being so confident in what you’ve built that you can finally relax a little, knowing that your foundation is unshakable. You’re not just surviving anymore; you’re thriving. And it’s all because you created the structure to let your ambition flow without burning out. 💡

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

PILE 4

Okay, so here’s the vibe: when you hit your full potential, your life is gonna feel like this beautiful balance of self-love and success. But here’s the thing—you’ve been carrying a lot, especially with your sibling’s struggles. It’s tough because you want to help, but you have to realize that in order to become the best version of yourself, you have to put yourself first. And I know that’s easier said than done, especially when you love someone so much and want to see them thrive.

You’ve been trying to fix things, trying to heal others, but you can’t keep pouring from an empty cup. You’ve been holding onto a lot of emotional weight, and that’s been draining you. It’s okay to step back and focus on your own growth. I promise, you’re not abandoning anyone by taking care of yourself. In fact, the more you work on you, the more you’ll be able to help them from a place of peace.

But it’s gonna hurt a bit—letting go of that guilt is a process. You’ll have moments where you feel torn, but trust me, your potential and your future are calling you to take care of you. Your dreams, your goals—they matter, and they deserve your attention. It’s about putting boundaries in place, even if it feels hard at first.

You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s fine. You don’t have to have it all figured out, but you’ll get there. Things will come into focus when you start giving yourself permission to live your life without guilt. It’s gonna feel so freeing once you realize that your own peace and happiness are the foundation for everything else to fall into place.

So take it slow. Focus on your journey, even if it means you need to step away from the chaos a little. You deserve to put yourself first, because the version of you that is fully healed, confident, and at peace is going to be the one that thrives and makes all those big dreams come true. Your success starts with you, and you’re worthy of every bit of it. ❤️

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)

[hrrtshape]

BUSTING MYTHS WIDE OPEN.

welcome to chapter five of HRRTSHAPE’S series: REMINDERS FOR WHEN YOU’RE DOUBTING SHIFTING. in this episode, i’m going to be helping setting the record straight once and for all. shifting gets so wrapped up in drama, false promises, and tiktok-worthy mysticism, but the tea is piping and grounded in reality. 

𖥻  MYTH #1. PEOPLE IN YOUR DR ARE WAITING FOR YOU. 

FALSE. RING DING DING DING DING !! they are not hosting a welcome party. the moment you shift, you’re simply waking up AS that version of yourself. you’re already living there—your dr self is mid-life, mid-moment, just existing like, “oh, hey.” nothing changes for them when you shift; it’s like jumping into a running movie as one of the actors.

𖥻  MYTH #2. YOU HAVE TO WALK THROUGH A PORTAL LIKE IT’S A FANTASY NOVEL.

FALSE. no magic keys, mirrors, or coraline-esque portals here. shifting is subtle AF—one minute you’re in your cr (current reality), and the next, BOOM, you’re THERE. the "travel" part is internal, and your consciousness just movesto a different layer of reality. it’s like going from one dream to another, except it’s fully lucid and intentional.

𖥻  MYTH #3. YOU HAVE TO VISUALISE EVERYTHING PERFECTLY OR IT WON’T WORK. 

FALSE. perfection is a scam. you don’t have to memorise your script word-for-word or see your dr in 8K HD. intent and focus are what matter. even if your visualisation feels a little blurry, as long as you know where you’re headed, you’re fine. it’s not about artistic talent; it’s about aligning your energy.

𖥻  MYTH #4. IF YOU SHIFT, YOU MIGHT NEVER COME BACK.

FALSE. BABE, RELAX. you aren’t tethered to your cr, or your dr, or to any other existing reality. shifting isn’t a “bye forever” situation unless you specifically decide to make it one. and even then, you can return to your cr if you choose.

𖥻  MYTH #5. YOU’LL FEEL LIKE A STRANGER IN YOUR DR BECAUSE IT’S NEW.

FALSE. you’re already you in your dr. you’re not “visiting” or “starting fresh.” you’re syncing with a version of yourself that’s already in the thick of it. the memories, relationships, and vibes are already there—it’s like waking up after a nap and slipping back into life.

𖥻  MYTH #6. SHIFTING ONLY WORKS IF YOU USE [INSERT WHATEVER TRENDY METHOD HERE]. 

FALSE. the julia method? the pillow method? THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE THING??? cute names, but you don’t need any specific method to shift. methods are tools, not rules. what works for you might be completely different, and that’s okay. some people use visualisation, some use meditation, whatever, whatever. but you don’t neeeeeeeeeeeed any of those.

𖥻  MYTH #7. YOU CAN’T SCRIPT [BLA BLA BLA] BECAUSE IT’S UNREALISTIC. 

FALSE. sis, you’re literally shifting into another reality. the concept of “realistic” goes out the window. wanna live in hogwarts? have 300 million followers? be married to your celebrity crush? WRITE IT DOWN. you’re the architect; there are no limits except the ones you believe in.

𖥻  MYTH #8. IF YOU DON’T FEEL SYMPTOMS, YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG.

FALSE. mind you, most “symptoms” are just your body falling asleep. not everyone gets tingles, vibrations, or floaty feelings. some people feel absolutely nothing before they shift. you don’t need a dramatic broadway show to prove it’s working. sometimes, it’s as simple as poof—you’re there.

𖥻  MYTH #9. YOU CAN’T SHIFT IF YOU DOUBT IT WORKS.

FALSE. doubts happen; it’s part of being human. shifting doesn’t require unwavering faith—it requires action. you can shift even if you’re unsure, as long as you stay open to the possibility. it’s about persistence, not perfection.

𖥻  MYTH #10. YOUR DR WON’T FEEL AS REAL AS YOUR CR.

FALSE. your dr is just as vivid, tangible, and sensory-rich as your cr. you can touch, taste, hear, and live it all with the same intensity. the only reason your cr feels “more real” is because you’re used to it. once you shift, your dr is your new “real.”

𖥻  MYTH #11. SHIFTING TAKES WEEKS OR MONTHS TO MASTER.

FALSE. time? who? shifting is as quick as your mind allows. some people shift within hours, while others take longer because they’re still working through doubts or fears. there’s no universal timeline, so stop comparing yourself.

𖥻  MYTH #12. IF YOU FAILL, YOU’LL NEVER SHIFT.

FALSE. failing isn’t the end—it’s just part of the process. you’re learning what works for you. every failed attempt brings you closer to that sweet, sweet click where everything aligns. KEEP. TRYING.

𖥻  MYTH #13. YOUR CR SELF WILL DIE (OR BE IN A COMA STATE) WHEN YOU SHIFT.

FALSE. dark much? your cr self doesn’t “die.” nor does it go into a coma until you come back. it’s still there, chilling, doing what you do in your cr. shifting is about expanding, not erasing. think of it like opening multiple tabs in your browser—you’re not closing one, just switching focus.

𖥻  MYTH #14. YOU HAVE TO HAVE A SCRIPT.

FALSE. scripts are very much optional. they’re a great tool if you like structure, but not a requirement. if you can visualise or simply feel your dr in your heart, you’re golden. the universe doesn’t care if you wrote an essay or not.

𖥻  MYTH #15. YOUR CR AND DR SELVES WILL COLLIDE OR MIX UP.

FALSE. they’re like parallel lines. each version of you exists in its own reality without crashing into the other. you’re not gonna accidentally bring dr memories into cr unless you script it or focus on retaining them. and no, your s/o won’t somehow gift you a necklace, and you bring it back. that’s impossible. unless you want to script/visualise your s/o gifting a necklace you have in your cr already ! then that’s just cute.

𖥻  MYTH #16. SHIFTING IS DANGEROUS.

FALSE. fear-mongering alert! shifting is a mental and spiritual practice, like meditation or lucid dreaming. you’re just expanding your consciousness, not diving into the upside down. you won’t die, okay? pinky promise.

𖥻  MYTH #17. YOU HAVE TO MEDITATE FOR HOURS IN ORDER TO SHIFT.

FALSE. meditation is great, but it’s not the secret sauce. you don’t need to be a zen master, sitting cross-legged and humming for hours. shifting can happen in any state—falling asleep, daydreaming, even while scrolling tiktok. 

𖥻  MYTH #18. SHIFTING WILL MESS UP YOUR MENTAL HEALTH. 

FALSE. breathe, sweetheart. shifting is all about tapping into your consciousness and aligning with your desires—it’s not inherently harmful. if you have mental health struggles, be mindful and don’t overexert yourself, but shifting itself is NOT going to send you spiralling. it’s a tool, not a trap.

𖥻  MYTH #19. IF YOU SHIFT TO THE SAME DR MULTIPLE TIMES, YOU’LL MESS IT UP.

FALSE. you’re not gonna “break” your dr like it’s a glitchy video game. every time you shift back, it’s as if you’ve never left. your dr self is simply carrying on as normal, living life. there’s no limit to how many times you can shift to the same place.

𖥻  MYTH #20. YOUR DR WON’T FEEL EMOTIONAL OR PERSONAL.

FALSE. drs are INTENSELY personal! you’ll feel everything—love, joy, anger, heartbreak—just like in your cr. your emotions and connections in your dr are as real as any you’ve ever experienced. in fact, they might feel more real because they’re so aligned with your intentions.

𖥻  MYTH #21. YOU CAN ONLY SHIFT TO PERSONAL WORLDS.

FALSE. fictional, historical, modern-day, or even made-up worlds—the choice is yours. wanna date a 1950s movie star (like yours truly)? live in a vampire manor? rule 15th-century france? ALL OF THE ABOVE? go for it. you’re not limited by genre or category.

𖥻  MYTH #22. YOU HAVE TO LIE COMPLETELY STILL TO SHIFT.

FALSE. really thought we left this one in 2020 shifttok catastrophe, but some people might still think this !!!  DON’T !!!! while some people prefer stillness to focus, others shift while lying on their sides, curled up like a shrimp, or even mid-fidget. your body doesn’t have to be frozen in rigor mortis for shifting to happen. comfort = key.

𖥻  MYTH #23. YOU’LL FORGET YOUR CR COMPLETELY WHEN YOU SHIFT BACK.

FALSE. you won’t wake up in your dr like, “who am i? where am i? WHO ARE YOU?” you’ll know exactly what’s going on because YOU scripted or envisioned this. your cr memories don’t just evaporate. although there might be a small chance that you forget your class schedule if you shift for more than a week. no biggies. 

𖥻  MYTH #24. SHIFTING IS ONLY FOR CERTAIN PEOPLE.

FALSE. shifting is for EVERYONE. if you’ve got a consciousness, you’re qualified. there’s no secret society or elite club—it’s about your personal journey. period.

𖥻  MYTH #25. YOU HAVE TO BE IN A CERTAIN MOOD OR MINDSET TO SHIFT.

FALSE. it helps to be calm and focused, but you don’t need to be all sunshine and rainbows. bad day? feeling a little meh? you can STILL shift. energy fluctuates, and that’s normal.

𖥻  MYTH #26. WELL, YOU CAN’T SHIFT IF YOU’RE TIRED….

FALSE. in fact (🤓☝️), tiredness can HELP because your brain is more relaxed and closer to a meditative state. sleepy vibes = prime shifting conditions for a lot of people.

𖥻  MYTH #27. IF YOU DON’T SHIFT WITHIN X AMOUNT OF TRIES, YOU NEVER WILL.

FALSE. consistency is key. some people shift after one attempt, and others take months. there’s no deadline or expiration date on your potential to shift. keep showing up, and it’ll happen. you can start shifting today. right now. 

𖥻  MYTH #28. YOU CAN ONLY SHIFT IF YOU’RE ALONE.

FALSE. sure, privacy might help you focus, but it’s not a requirement. people have shifted in shared rooms, busy homes, and even school libraries. the world doesn’t have to go silent for you to get your dream life.

𖥻  MYTH #29. YOUR “DR SELF” WILL BE CONFUSED BY YOUR PRESENCE.

FALSE. your dr self IS you. there’s no awkward “um, who are you?” “i’m XXX, who are you?” moment. you’re literally sliding into a version of yourself that already exists there, seamlessly. it’s not invasion of the body snatchers.

𖥻  MYTH #30. YOUR BODY IN YOUR CR WILL FEEL EMPTY WHILE YOU’RE IN YOUR DR.

FALSE. this one’s giving creepy, but nope, your cr body will feel normal. whether you’re asleep or awake, it’s still alive and well, just chilling while your consciousness explores elsewhere. think of it as your body being on autopilot while you take a vacay.

𖥻  MYTH #31. YOU’LL GET STUCK IF YOU SHIFT TOO LONG.

FALSE. there’s always a way back. whether it’s scripted (a safe word, etc.) or just you deciding to wake up in your cr, you’re not trapped in your dr. YOU hold the power to move between realities.

[dollishsz]

BATBOYS GENERAL HCS DURING DATING ── .✦

a/n: my posts are barely getting engagement so it would be nice to reblog + like + cmmt tysm! Also

I’m so tired because I don’t know what I want to do with myself when like writing because I don’t have much ideas yk, (I do have a lottt of ideas just don’t want to like spam and idk how to like execute it correctly so ya) but I’m so grateful I’m back!

(Tags: batboys general hcs + fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Compliments: Dick will compliment you constantly, but they’re the slightly extra kind. “You look like you just walked off the cover of a magazine… Or like you’re about to rob a bank with your style, and I’m here for it.”

Date Nights: Dick is a hopeless romantic mixed a romantic flirty person. He'll plan elaborate date nights that are almost too perfect. You're having a candlelit dinner on a rooftop... until a mosquito swoops by, and you both spend 20 minutes trying to catch it.

Awkwardly Adorable: Dick tries so hard to be smooth, but when it’s just the two of you, he ends up tripping over his words, saying things like “I love you… like… in a non-creepy way… I mean, I know that sounds creepy but—“, “you know dick, you could’ve just told me you loved me no need for all that extra yapping.”

Sharing Food: He can’t resist sharing his food with you but will dramatically defend his fries. “No, you can't have any. This is the last one. You’ll be fine. It’s called 'the sacrifice of love.'”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Grumpy But Cute: Jason might be brooding and grumpy on the outside, but once he gets comfortable with you, he’s a sucker for giving you the best hugs. They’re just not as soft as you expect, because, well, he’s Red Hood and that’s not very 'soft' in his book.

Love Language: He definitely has a love language of throwing sarcastic remarks at you to show affection. “I’m just saying, you look so good, I might actually let you live longer than five minutes without me.”

Meme Sharing: Jason will share the funniest memes with you, and he will laugh harder than anyone else when you send him a reaction meme. You two could spend hours going through meme after meme while ignoring his patrol responsibilities.

Late Night Conversations: He’s always the first to text at 3 am just to say, “I’m not okay. Also, I think I might’ve made pasta in the Batcave, but it’s 80% burnt and half of the 20% is missing on the ground in other words, it’s fully burnt. You in?”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Puns & Dad Jokes: Tim is the king of puns. You might be mid-sentence talking about something serious, and he’ll sneak in, “Well, that’s egg-sactly what I was thinking.”

Organizing Everything: Tim will have a notebook just for your relationship. He organizes things like "future plans," "annoying habits to change," and “how we can both pretend to be normal in public.”

Overthinking: Tim might send you long, thoughtful texts about nothing and everything, then panic and delete them. Later, you get a short text that says, “Hey, I like you. It’s cool. Let’s go save Gotham.”

Netflix & Research: On date nights, Tim is all about watching a documentary on some obscure topic. You wanted to watch a rom-com? Nope. Tim says, “Let’s learn about the history of ancient pizza ovens.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Fiercely Protective: Damian will go full boss mode in a relationship. If someone even looks at you wrong, he’s ready to challenge them to a duel. You’ve never seen someone challenge a guy at the coffee shop to a sword fight over a latte until you met him.

Literally Shakespeare: He has this bizarre habit of reciting random Shakespeare quotes when trying to express his feelings. “My love for you is like a tempest, crashing and relentless. Also, I think you forgot to add sugar in my coffee.”

Jealousy: He’ll get jealous of even the smallest things. That random guy who offered to help you with your grocery bags? Damian’s glaring at them from across the parking lot, preparing his “You’re not worthy” speech.

Tenderness: Don’t be fooled by his brooding exterior. Damian will get you flowers (in his own way) — like a very dramatic single red rose that he purchased with the least amount of emotion possible, but you know he spent an hour picking the perfect one.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Grumpy But Loyal: Bruce is that partner who takes a long time to warm up to things, but once he’s in, he’s in 100%. He’ll still be grumpy, though. If you show up in a bat-themed shirt, you’ll get a raised eyebrow and a grunt that could probably level an entire building.

Affectionate In His Own Way: Bruce will bring you your favorite coffee without asking because he’s been paying attention to your usual order for the past six months. But if you say anything about it, he’ll act like he’s annoyed. “I’m Batman. I don’t do things for people.”

Overprotective: He’ll put the Batcomputer between the two of you if he’s feeling protective, even if it’s completely unnecessary. Someone bumps into you? Bruce is already three steps ahead, tracking their life history and figuring out their deepest secrets, just in case.

Romantic, But Quiet About It: Bruce can’t show his love through words, but the way he gives you his jacket when it’s cold speaks volumes. Of course, he acts like it was an accident. “I didn’t want you to catch a cold, that’s all. I’m not a softy, don’t read into it.”

GENERAL TRAITS FOUND IN THEM ── .✦

Matching Outfits: They’ll all pretend like they’re too cool for matching outfits, but one day they’ll catch themselves accidentally twinning with you, and neither of you can ever act normal again.

In Public: They’ll all act like they don’t care if you hold their hand in public, but if anyone tries to grab your hand instead, they’ll give them a glare that could freeze a person in place.

Batman’s Turtleneck: Every Batboy secretly loves when Bruce wears his iconic black turtleneck and glasses. They all think Bruce looks like a mysterious intellectual, and they might just start commenting on it to mess with him. Bruce is too focused on Gotham to care.

[chantillyxlacey]

i've seen a lot of takes (i am using the word 'take' absolutely neutrally here; and i'm specifying neutrality bc i have started to see that word as having inherently negative connotations in this context and i have no idea if that's just a Me Problem but i figured specificity couldn't hurt)

okay, that got away from me, let me start again

i've seen a lot of takes about The Damsel that have to do with idealization being another kind of dehumanization and how she's Like She Is because you/TLQ are projecting a fantasy onto her and sanding away any traits that don't fit into that fantasy and rendering her into little more than a vessel for your/TLQ's wish fulfillment

and i don't necessarily think that's *wrong* either-- but i think that's also not the complete picture, and that only looking that that half of the image does kind of tend to paint TLQ in an unfairly bad light

because the thing is, in The Damsel's route, TLQ is ALSO being reduced to an archetype just as much as The Damsel herself is! The Princess becomes the quintessential fairytale fair-maiden-in-distress that exists only to be rescued by a knight-in-shining-armor; and TLQ-- if you allow them to be guided entirely by The Smitten-- becomes that quintessential fairytale knight-in-shining-armor that only exists to rescue the fair-maiden-in-distress

The Damsel says over and over, explicitly, that "I just want to make you happy!" and The Smitten in this route is equally preoccupied with making HER happy-- he even says it directly if you start deconstructing her. every other part of his identity has been subsumed to revolve entirely around her just as much as the reverse is true for her.

(speaking of the Deconstructed Damsel, i've also seen Smitten's reaction to that touted as him not caring about her agency-- but again, i always read that as him being unable to see any flaws in her rather than being pleased with the idea of her being biddable, specifically. if you halt the deconstruction his reaction is "she's ALWAYS been perfect" -- he'd think that no matter what she did or said, because his identity revolves around her the exact way that hers revolves around him/TLQ)

even the actions that lead to HEA fit into this, i think-- i read that moment as less The Smitten lashing out at her because she didn't live up to his fantasy-- it still happens even after she's said "i guess we can stay, if that's what you want"-- she's giving The Smitten what he wants, but he's still distressed because SHE'S not happy

i think it's more The Smitten feeling that HE hadn't lived up to HIS half of their shared fantasy. if she's not happy with the idea of "all we need is each other" then it must be because HE failed somehow. if she needs or wants more than him, it must be because HE is not enough.

if he was just better at playing his part, if he just offered her more, if he was just clearer about his devotion--

"if we just showed her the contents of our heart, she'd be happy"

that's not to say that what The Smitten does in HEA isn't incredibly toxic for both of them-- it definitely is, and it clearly makes both the Princess and TLQ miserable. "everything she doesn't know she wants" is a bad mindset to approach a relationship with, whether that mindset is reached through controlling selfishness or a desperation to appease (and i definitely think Smitten is motivated by the latter-- it's no coincidence that we arrive at HEA through a literal and fatal act of self mutilation)

he's definitely the antagonist of HEA, in that he is what TLQ and the Princess and the player need to overcome, but he's not a VILLAIN (which i think is most clearly illustrated in the moment where the Princess admits she's unhappy, that she's never been happy here, and his reaction is to GIVE UP instead of lash out harder)

i never got the sense that The Smitten was ever putting any blame on The Damsel-- he always considered *himself* to be the problem-- he puppeteers TLQ just as much as he does the Princess, even if we can't hear him while she can, and he asks TLQ/the player through her "isn't this enough? isn't this what you wanted?"

which in and of itself is an unhealthy way to approach a relationship-- blaming oneself for every bit of conflict or lapse in synchronicity is just as harmful as laying all the blame on the other person. there IS no blame-- sometimes people disagree or have conflicting needs or desires, and that's not anybody's "fault" because that's just how people and relationships WORK.

...can you believe i wrote out all of this when my original intention was to lay out an entirely different point about a read on The Damsel/HEA routes that wasn't about relationships at all?

OKAY!

THAT GOT AWAY FROM ME LET ME START AGAIN

so i don't think that looking at The Damsel/HEA through a lens of "what does this say about relationships and expectations and respecting other people's agency" is incorrect-- clearly i have a lot of thoughts about that lens!

but i wanted to offer another one that i haven't seen yet:

The Damsel/HEA route as a commentary on what makes a satisfying narrative

if you play out The Damsel route just single-mindedly taking actions to free her-- it's kinda dull, isn't it? like-- it's not without its charms! The Smitten is silly and entertaining and the Narrator's exaggerated pettiness is very funny! but ultimately, that's about it.

potential sources of conflict are brushed aside-- if you took the blade with you, you just drop it and it gets forgotten; the Damsel's hand slips right out of the manacle with no effort or harm; when the Narrator locks the basement door, every 'choice' you make just magically unlocks it right away. and then you're outside, what you wanted to do from the start. ...so what do we do now?

nothing, actually. the chapter ends, and there is no chapter 3. the game itself continues, but that ending feels about as substantial as the Narrator's "Good Ending" where you follow his instructions without question and accomplish his goal immediately.

if you DON'T take either of the actions that lead to one of Damsel's chapter 3's, there's very little variation in The Damsel's story-- pretty much all of it comes down to slight differences in dialogue. there's no "the princess kills you" outcome. the closest thing to an alternate end to The Damsel is if you deconstruct her-- and even then, it feels like less an "alternate route" and more like-- a cheeky acknowledgement of the lack of substance, because that isn't a bug, it's a feature!

but if you introduce conflict-- either in the more direct sense by slaying The Damsel or in the more interpersonal sense by highlighting a mis-match in her and TLQ's desires-- suddenly the story opens up! there are a bunch of new possibilities and a bunch of new outcomes, and all of them are more interesting than "you achieve your goal with trivial effort, hooray!"

Even if you wind up finishing HEA on a note that is superficially very similar to the easy end of The Damsel's route-- you leave hand in hand with her, the narrator conceding defeat, and the last image of her before TSM takes her is a warm, tender smile-- it FEELS so much more like a genuine happy ending-- even though the Princess' face is still streaked and stained from her tears. BECAUSE of that.

it's one of the most heartwarming moments in the game, and one that has made me misty eyed every time i've seen it, and it's BECAUSE of the conflict you had to go through to get there.

conflict is what drives a compelling narrative, is the takeaway. it precludes PERFECT endings, perhaps, but not happy endings-- it's what makes those imperfect happy endings feel substantial and earned.

even the dinner and the board game contribute to the idea-- the description of the food is some really lovely writing, to the point where i sat through and listened to it all again even though i knew nothing really happens during it-- but *nothing really happens during it*. it doesn't move the narrative forward-- you're just as hungry as you were when you started. it just stalls the story in place, and every time you go through it again it's less satisfying until it's outright unpleasant. the description of the meal also notably gets simpler each time, and less detailed-- there's only so much that you can say about it before you run out of things to describe.

the board game is similar-- the way that it's described the first time you play even sounds like the description of an exciting story! and then the board resets, and you do it all again just the same. and so on. the game/story stops being exciting and the wins or losses stop feeling like they mean anything-- because is conflict really conflict, is a challenge really a challenge, if you're always tracing the same path, always making moves where you already know the outcome? it becomes "a slog towards the end"

and this is how i tie the idea of "what Damsel/HEA has to say about relationships" and "what Damsel/HEA has to say about narratives" together:

ultimately, the statements can be summarized the same way "whether in a narrative or a relationship, 'perfection' is unattainable, but you wouldn't actually want it anyway"

conflict, substance, variety

in a relationship there will always be differences of opinion, differing goals etc-- variety between the members of the relationship, knowing and sharing this substantial and non-superficial information about one another, navigating the resultant conflict-- that's what allows the relationship to grow and deepen, and what allows the people in it to grow as individuals as well.

in a narrative, or in Narratives, as a whole, conflict is what makes things HAPPEN, substance makes them feel like what happens MATTERS, like something is being communicated, variety means that you're learning or considering something new-- and those are what make a narrative capable of impacting a person, of changing them, of being remembered

[atrophiedemotion]

escapism vs reality in alien stage

in this post (elaborated greatly by geo's tags as well) i mentioned a big sua/till parallel i noticed (but didn't go into much detail because i didn't want to derail the post lol), and i wanted to go into more detail on that and the overall reality vs fantasy theme alnst has going.

sua & till both use their love for mizi as a form of escapism. sua's love for mizi and the weight of her knowledge of their universe causes her to create a safe (fake) bubble for her and mizi to exist in & makes it as perfect as it can be before they're out of time. till uses his love & admiration for mizi as a beacon of hope, as motivation to go on despite how horribly he's treated in day to day life. mizi is the brightness in both of their dull lives.

this view of mizi as a hopeful, optimistic sort-of deity sheds light onto an entire theme of alien stage, escapism vs reality. it also shows that mizi & ivan, in this specific instance, are antitheses of each other.

mizi, as a character, symbolizes hope and escapism. she is the only character out of the main four that didn't understand the exact conditions of their world due to how she was raised. she does not fully grasp how horrifying the alnst universe is until she watches sua die, which is the inciting incident for the entire series. escapism isn't possible anymore, but hope is still there when she gets rescued by hyuna and joins the rebellion.

ivan, on the other hand, literally symbolizes truth and the reality of their world. since he was born he understood the cruelty the segyein are capable of and knows exactly where he stands in the world. he is seen to be fatalistic and even nihilistic. his death, which he sees as an inevitability, is the second inciting incident (the one where everything goes to shit chaos afterward). it is a brutal reminder of the truth of alien stage to both the characters and the audience.

sua & till actively seek out mizi as solace in their pain, and they both actively avoid ivan (in their own ways) and the connections he has to reality.

sua avoids ivan because, well, he's mean to her, but mostly because he's not even trying to be mean, he's just objectively right and she doesn't want to hear it. he is a reminder not only of the cruel world they live in but her own 'twistedness'. he reminds her that she is not solely the fantasy she's created with mizi, but someone with unavoidable knowledge of the inevitable (as well as someone who is willfully keeping this information from an unknowing mizi).

till avoids confronting his feelings for ivan and confronting ivan in general because ivan confuses him. his feelings for ivan aren't cut and dry in the way his feelings for mizi are, because ivan is and always will be tied to pain and suffering for till (their first meeting in the auction shop, their miscommunication/strange relationship, the fact that ivan is the only one who sees him at his most vulnerable, etc). ivan's death forces him to confront these feelings (for ivan & about their world in general) but even then he's repressing them until he physically can't anymore.

mizi is escapism & hope, literally realized because she escapes. ivan is reality & a representation of the fate of alnst contestants, literally realized through his death.

it doesn't end there, though. sua & till are escapists running from reality (with diverging paths that are both narratively important in their own ways), while mizi represents escapism & ivan represents reality. along similar lines, but going a step further, hyuna & luka showcase these exact themes.

hyuna is the legitimate showcase of hope, of freedom. she is a free human (as free as you can get in the alnst universe) and the leader of a human rebellion focused on uprising as a race against the segyein.

luka is the perfect example of compliance within reality. he is now a two time alien stage champion and the definition of a pet, no matter how he actually feels.

hyuna & luka are similar to, but a step beyond, mizi & ivan. mizi symbolizes escapism, but she is faced with reality and must grapple it, while hyuna is freedom personified (albeit with demons of her own). ivan symbolizes reality, but he still yearns for something he thinks he'll never have, while luka completely shuts off those emotions because he knows they will only jeopardize his chances of survival.

the characters of alien stage perfectly embody one of the core themes of alien stage, the discrepancy between fantasy and truth, and the way those can coincide in a world.

[endlessdreamworld]

Under the Veil

An 18+ fic starring Aventurine X Fem!Reader as husband and wife. Minors DNI, sort of a continuation of the general headcanons post I wrote CW: infertility, A pretty harrowing dead dove do no eat flashback involving graphic depictions of sex trafficking, non con and SA for past Aventurine, as well as a brief mention of drugs. Wordcount: 4.5k

You felt grateful for your husband’s embrace now more than ever. It was warmth you desperately needed. It was security you didn’t deserve, not when you feel like you’ve robbed him of something he deserved more than anyone else in the world. Last but not least, it muffled your quiet sobs as you processed the reality you should have been expecting all along. After all, you and Aventurine have been actively trying for kids since the day you got married over three years ago. Something was critically wrong, but you both believed that this was something money could fix. You had already spent so much money crafting the perfect nest for all of the little ones you promised to bring into the world together. You promised him no less than half a dozen kids with eyes as bright and vivid as his and no one else’s. You weren’t one to ever break your promises, not until today.

A fresh wave of tears spilled out of the corners of your eyes and into your husband’s shoulder. You didn’t deserve to be comforted like this – not when you failed him so terribly, but you knew if you tried to pull away he wouldn’t have it. So instead you inhaled deeply, taking in his scent of today’s chosen cologne. You shuddered when you quickly recognized the smell of lavender. If anyone knew the first thing about scented oils it was the calming and anxiety relieving factors of lavender. Between the pacifying fragrance and the feeling of his sweater made from the cashmere of some rare creature, it was a matter of time before the tears finally stopped.

It was unlike Aventurine to wear a simple sweater as part of the ensemble of his outfit of the day given just how much fun he has peacocking around, but between the softness of the cashmere and the session of aromatherapy, his feelings on the matter of your infertility were obvious. He was fully prepared for this outcome and came deliberately equipped to ease you through the heartbreak. Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stroked your back until you found yourself kissing him back on the shoulder and the inside of his neck. After a few more deep breaths, you worked up the nerve to look him in his eyes. It was a relief to see them narrowed softly, exuding as much warmth as the day you both took your wedding vows. You felt lighter to see he loved you as much as ever. “I’m sorry honey,” you whispered into his neck. He gave you a squeeze, and laughed quietly. The soft melodic lilt tickled the tip of your ear.

You weren’t the same after receiving the news of your utterly barren womb. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes and you stayed in bed more and more. Aventurine was dying on the inside seeing you struggle like this, feeling entirely responsible for it. He’s always wanted to be a father, that much was apparent. He made it known countless times well before the talks of marriage. The Sigonian was quite good at dealing with the cards he was given both literal and metaphorical. It’s rare that he misplays so catastrophically.

Aventurine knew it would be no easy task to convince you how little this mattered to him in the bigger scheme of things, how it was you who was his everything. You saw through it all, the bravado, the bluffing, the bullshit. You barely had to try and you found the pathetic shell of a man beneath the fineries and you chose to dive in head first. It was a long and miserable road to get to a point where you were both happy.  The fact that you were even engaging in regular intimacy after everything he’s been through is nothing short of a miracle.

Sex trafficking and slavery go hand in hand, and the life of a ‘pretty slave’ in the hands of society’s upper crust was one of unparalleled shame. He, of course, was mostly transparent about how… well used he was. Your husband never gave you the full details of what happened, favoring to spin the lie of how ‘he forgot’ which he hoped would become the truth like the other half dozen lies he continuously spun. 

He wanted to forget his first time, auctioned off to a man who was no less than thrice as old as he was, lusting over someone who was still more boy than man. He wanted to forget how that predator’s chest hair felt against his back, how the sweat slickened curls made him squirm while they left their slimy trails along his flesh. Aventurine wanted to forget the feeling of the man’s palm on his cheek as he forced the Sigonian’s face into the pillows and lined up their hips. He wanted to forget the pain of the violation. Most of all, he wanted to forget the humiliation of his body’s own betrayal as the high roller stroked him off, the little mewls and groans that slipped through his traitorous lie spinning lips before he made a mess on the bed. He wanted to forget the feeling of blood laced spunk dripping down his thigh that night. It was no small consolation that he at least had long forgotten that face.

 He wanted to forget the taste of sweat and salt leaking from every cock he had to suck. He wanted to forget the shapes of them, the smell of them, the leers, the smacks, the feeling of strangers tugging on his hair. He wanted to forget the ‘parties’ his master rented him out to. He wanted to forget about the streaks of jizz on his lower back, how they wiped themselves off on him leaving hedonistic tallies keeping score of some sick game they played amongst themselves. He wanted to forget the drugs needed to perform when his body would no longer cooperate. He – “Honey, are you okay?” You asked him. He had been staring off into space for a while. Whenever he gets like this, it’s pretty obvious he’s stuck somewhere inside of memories he didn’t want to be shackled to.

Ah, even now you’re worrying about me? He thought, and tilted your chin up to give you a kiss on your cheek right below your eye. “Me? I’m fine of course but what about you?” He cupped your face. “You’ve been out of it for the past week. I’ve been worried sick you know?” Truth be told, he was giving you some space but he was always ready to come running when you were finally ready to share some of the pain you’ve been carrying lately with him.

“I’ve been doing some thinking, and I think we should talk.” Oh those dreaded words he always hated hearing. You’ve almost never said them, only when your relationship was in dire straits and you needed something from him in specific. It’s been ages since he heard them.

“Right, I’m sure we do,” he said and sat down next to you on the couch. He faced towards you and rested his arm along the top of the couch. You reached into your bag and pulled out a few resources, but it’s hard for him to pay attention to what’s in your hands when all he can see are the bags under your eyes.

“I’ve been looking into some options for us,” you presented him with some printed documents regarding surrogacy services. “So you can still be a father and pass on the bloodline.” He grew utterly quiet, but you’re undeterred, “Or maybe you could sign up at a fertility clinic and see if you can be registered as a sperm donor. I know Sigonians aren’t exac-”

“Stop,” he cut you off. Your hands froze and clutched onto your well intentioned but foolish research. His fingers rubbed against the backs of yours, coaxing you into giving up those unnecessary papers. You acquiesced and let him shuffle them back onto the table. “We can go to other doctors, get a second or third opinion or whatever.”

It hurt to hear him hold onto hope like this because the chance of having your own children was slim to none. “But what if it just can’t happen?”

“Then it just won’t happen,” he smiled but you could see the pain in his eyes.

“I don’t want you to give this up, Kakavasha. I know how much your Avgin heritage means to you. I–” tears threatened the edge of your vision, and your husband shushed you. “I promised you I’d –” he put his index and middle finger against your lips, sealing them in a gentle hold.

“Ishla rhim,” he addressed you with the Avgin term of endearment meant only for the most intimate of moments. One would be lucky to hear it more than a couple of times in their life. “Let’s pray together, do you remember how? Or do you need a little reminder?” His voice is  as warm and sweet as his namesake.

“I remember,” you told him while lifting up the wrong hand.

He clicked his tongue playfully and retrieved the correct hand while kissing the other. “It’s our left ones. You’ll always see our commitment to each other when we pray,” he rubbed the pad of his finger along the skin of your wedding band seared into your flesh with the same ink that was used for his commodity.

“Right,” you nod and he kissed your forehead. You began to recite the prayer cautiously, “May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you…?”

He nodded, “That’s right. Don’t forget the part about keeping your blood eternally pulsing.”

You groaned, “You’d think I’d know the prayer by heart after all this time.”

He laced his fingers with yours pressing your palms flat together. “You do know it, but you’re feeling a bit nervous is all.” He squeezed your fingers together and peppered the backs of your fingers with kisses, one for each knuckle. “Your fingers are shaking. Let me take over.” He recited the prayer line by line, with you following along. Yet still, you didn’t seem to feel better and he could tell. 

The air grew heavier between the two of you, and you finally broke the suffocating silence. “I think we should look into alternatives just in case…” “I’m not interested,” he said, leaving no further room for discussion. “It was only ever going to be you and I.” It was unlike you to be so pushy. You were always so mindful of his needs and careful with his boundaries.

Just as you were about to try to find another angle, he leaned over you, effectively caging you against the back of the couch. “Wife,” he begins, his eyes were colder than you’d seen them before and there was a hint of desperation in the calm black depths of his pupils that made the vivid brights of his iris seem to glow. “I think you’d benefit greatly from being reminded of our wedding vows.” His eyes roamed from your eyes to your lower lip. He grabbed your chin and tilted your face at such an angle where he commanded every last scrap of your attention. “Because you seem to be forgetting the part about ‘in sickness and in health’ and that simply won’t do. How about we renew our vows, right here, right now, hmm?” Aventurine brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth. He nuzzled his face against yours, the caress of his long and full eyelashes finally pulled you from this pit you threw yourself into. You took a better look at him and saw that look again, that one a pet would give you before you closed the door on them before leaving for one task or another. It was that look that screamed ‘please don’t throw me away’ at the top of its lungs. 

How very thoughtless of you, ignoring what was right before your very eyes. You cupped Aventurine’s face with both of your hands and his eyes fluttered shut. Guilt twisted inside of your guts, knotting you in a way that made your stomach flip. It finally dawned on you just how bad of a spot you put his already tortured soul into. “I think I may need a reminder, but not here,” you patted the couch. “There’s not enough pillows.”

“Right,” he sighed in mock defeat, “What was I thinking?” Aventurine scooped you up as he rose to his feet. “Silly me.” Countless times you were the source of his comfort, his little slice of heaven molded into flesh and shaped into his home. Now here you are, in desperate need of comfort and it’s his turn to perform. The stakes have never been higher. He knew if he failed to relieve you of that all-devouring guilt of yours, then a part of you would never be the same and he was having none of it. Aventurine set you down in the middle of your marital bed and you started making quick work of your buttons. “Hey!” he called out to you in a pout, making you freeze. “Hi?” your fingers sheepishly fidgeted with the last remaining button that kept your clothes together.

Your husband approached the edge of the bed and sat down beside you. “That’s not how our wedding night went. This,” his fingers brushed aside your own as he ran the tip of his finger along the flat surface, “was my job. And you stole it from me. Guess we gotta change things up this time.”

Aventurine put his hand on your cheek and you took the opportunity to steal a little more from him. You pawed at his clothes before he had the opportunity to disrobe himself. He hummed in amusement, “Someone is very eager,” he mused, the corners of his lips curled up into that smirk of his that never failed to make you feel like a total mess. It did him well to see you perking up a bit. He playfully pushed you down onto the bed, “Roll over for me. I want to see you on your hands and knees tonight.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You rolled over onto your stomach, just in time to see Aventurine finish undressing. He threw himself onto the bed next to you and brushed your hair back, taking a moment to just… soak in the sight of you. Ages ago he’d lay down next to you, too scared to touch you, scared to make you dirty. You always took things slow, always left the floor open for every no he was brave enough to say. That’s why the talk of all of these ‘options’ felt so unnecessary.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” he quipped smoothly. It was clear his mind was elsewhere, but he seemed content enough so there was no need to press him on it. He weaved his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt before sliding his hand up the skin on your back. With his free hand, he popped open that last button you so graciously saved for him. Aventurine made quick work of the rest of your clothing and basked in the familiar sight of you. It would always only be you. He trailed his fingers down your back, leaving little paths of gooseflesh in their wake.

“That tickles,” you laughed quietly and rubbed your back against his exploring hand. As you went to roll over and swat his hand away, he held onto your wrist and kept you on your stomach.

“On your knees for me. Please?” He nuzzled the side of your cheek. This isn’t a position you took often, so it was tremendously exciting. You felt invigorated by the simple gesture of getting on all fours. Your husband placed a hand on your hip to savor the feeling of your skin and quickly clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Too cold.” He stepped away. You turned your head to see him fidgeting with the thermostat.

“It’s not that serious. I’m not cold, I’m lonely,” you whined from on the bed. He always doted on you so much, too much even – especially during intimacy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t understand it. His words from the day you finally bridged that threshold play inside of your mind on loop during times like these. “I’ve been embraced so many times before, but this is the first time I’ve been held.”

He laughed at how petulant you’re being, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it heartwarming. Aventurine returned to your side and placed his hand on your back once more. He slid the tips of his fingers past your hips, past your ass, until they settled around your already damp lips. He traced his fingers along your slit and felt your slick stick to his dexterous digits. Your husband knew your body well and didn’t even need to slip a finger in to know how easily you’d take two more. “Yes, you certainly feel very lonely.” The way he said it made you want to protest his teasing, but honestly? He didn’t want to leave you unsatisfied for any longer.

The bed shifted under his weight as he joined you. You bent your arms, your front half dipping low enough so you could feel your chest settle on those oh so familiar soft silk sheets. Your husband sighed in satisfaction as he settled his hand on your shoulder. The warmth of his hands radiated through the relaxed muscles of your back. Strands of his soft blonde hair tickled the side of your face before you felt his nose rub against the left side of your neck. He placed a tender kiss right on the same spot his commodity tattoo would be and you purred in turn, your hands already clutching at the sheets as you salivated in anticipation. Aventurine gave himself a couple of strokes before he nestled the head of his cock at the entrance of your snatch, the lips swollen and puffy from arousal. He smirked into the skin of your neck.

“Wow, I don’t even have to touch you anymore to turn your guts into tangled ribbons,” he whispered in such a sultry tone before running his tongue along the artery in your neck. Your pulse raced wildly against the damp muscle oh so deliciously. He loved driving you crazy like this, loved the way he could move your heart, loved the noises he was going to pry out of your sweet lips.

He was met with no resistance as he bore his weight down on you. The head of his cock breached your entrance before he carefully sheathed himself into you. A little sigh of delight huffed out of your partially parted mouth. You gave a light wave with your fingers as an invitation. Aventurine placed the palm of his hand over the back of yours, lacing your hands together. He gave you a light squeeze and finished bottoming out before kissing the side of your neck.

It was a bit surprising feeling him stop there, and you thought that maybe he changed his mind. Before you had time to overthink it, he murmured into your ear as a reminder, “We’re supposed to be renewing our vows, love.”

Oh yes, that’s right, you were already so cock drunk that you forgot that part. “Right, it was just the –” you felt the tip of the fingers of his free hand trail land on your sternum. They felt cold against your burning skin.

“Yes?”

“The standard ones, something classic.” It was so unbelievably hard to keep your head in the corporeal realm when Aventurine’s touch was propelling you to heaven.

“Right, I’m listening. I want to hear you recite them because I think you might have forgotten.”

“For bett-” he started to drag his fingers from your sternum to your navel, leaving a pit in your stomach. He felt your weeping cunt seize his shaft in a chokehold. Your voice pitched high, “better andpoorer.”

“For better and for worse,” he nipped your ear and trailed his fingers back up the center of your torso before they settled back between your breasts. You clamped down firmly on his hand in your own, an attempt at avenging your broken focus. “Come on, what was next?”

“For richer, an-” he dragged his fingers from above to further below this time, settling just over your womb. “Richer and for poorer.”

He placed a warm kiss on your temple. “Good girl,” he cooed, tickling your hair. “Next?”

Your tongue swiped at your lower lip and then spit out the next bit as fast as you possibly could before he had the opportunity to scramble your brains anymore than he already had. “Insicknessan-” You should have known better than to try something like this. The moment you committed to spitting out your wedding vows, Aventurine had already taken hold of your swollen clit in between his fingers. You stumbled, unable to hold your hips up for a brief moment. Not that it had any affect on your position with the way he was holding onto you.

“In sickness and in health, and don’t you dare ever forget it,” he threatened.

You shook your head and then laid it out one last time, “But what if this is it? What if we can’t have kids of our own.”

Your husband grew silent, and you’re afraid you broke the moment when all you wanted was to be considerate of what he was sentencing himself to.

“Then it’s very simple, isn’t it?” His thighs rubbed against yours as he rolled his hips. The way his cock grinds against your core makes your eyes roll back into your head. “I’ll be the last Avgin. The bloodline dies with me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Aventurine holds you still as he rocks back and forth in a steady motion. He sounded so happy as he said it, and the last of this festering worry was stolen away from you. 

Fuck, he knew just the right thing to say didn’t he? It wasn’t fair. If only you could be half as good as he was but right now, all you could do was confess a sloppy “I love you,” into the mattress accompanied by a thin stream of drool.

He huffed a breathy laugh against your back, “Oh I know you do.” Cocky and self-assured, just the way you like him. Aventurine inhaled and lightly rolled his fingers, swirling your bead in pace with the soft rock of his body against yours. You sighed, you squealed, you sang – just for him. Oh how he loved to hear you, see you, smell you. He focused on those sensations as he tried to believe the lie he just told you. Was it a lie though, if it was one of omission? It’s not like he was lying to you outright. While yes, it was that simple, that this was what he wanted, he’d be lying if he didn’t say how painful the solitude would be.

But none of that was important, not when the scent of your shampoo tickled his senses, nor when he watched the wet spot near your face slowly grow from the steady stream of drool. It was some delightful proof of just how much you were enjoying yourself. He had you right where he wanted you, and although it was out of character for him to leave you hanging on the edge, there was something he needed to do for himself or rather for both of your sakes.

“I’m going to grab something to make things a bit more exciting,” he kissed your forehead before carefully disentangling himself from you. Aventurine had enough kink for a lifetime after all of the subjugation he went through so he didn’t own what he was looking for. A substitute would do. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time nor the last time that he would hide behind his wealth as a shield. He retrieved his favorite necktie, and swirled it proactively. It was some unintentional good planning on his part that he’s spent countless hours on sleight of hand tricks. He needed the practice now more than ever. If anyone would be able to spot his facade slipping, his fingers shaking and unsure, it would be you – his chosen life partner. “Here, let me put this on,” he said as he wrapped the makeshift blindfold around your eyes. A tool, a misdirection, a temporary respite.

Aventurine rolled you onto your back and you were none the wiser to the forlorn and broken expression on his face. He needed to cry, to mourn the family you were supposed to have. The nursery he’d disassemble by himself for your sake. He couldn’t worry you, not when you needed the comfort more, when he knew what it was like to feel small and helpless as your body betrayed what you wanted. It wouldn’t be difficult to pass his tears off as sweat, his shaking voice as swells of his own pleasure. Of course he felt good too. Everyone is more comfortable at home. He saw your fingers twitching in his peripherals, a tell that was far more consistent and obvious than the frenzied fluttering of your insides. Yes, now would be a good time.

Your husband crashed his lips against yours, a calculated act of theft as he stole your cries of ecstasy right out of your throat. Some might call it slimy, some might call it cunning, he called it commitment as he used the tortured screams of your climax to mask his own erratic breathing and whimpers of heartbreak. You fell still beneath him and hummed in satisfaction. Your fingers peeled off the blindfold, and you could finally get a good look of his smiling face. He thanked Gaiathra Triclops for giving him the strength to pull himself together so he could face you with a proper smile instead of that hollow one you’d see right through in a heartbeat. “I didn’t know renewing our vows could be so fun,” you beamed up at him, a smile as calming as the moon. He found himself nuzzling into your hand. “Romantic right?”

You laughed and nodded enthusiastically beneath him. “Wanna get cleaned up?” You gave his cheek a squish.

“Now that sounds like a great idea.” Your life together carried on. This was just another point in time, one he wouldn’t deem as suffering no matter how painful. As a gambler he weighed the risks and rewards of every encounter, every interaction. Every move was calculated, every word was said with purpose. Who knows? Maybe Mama Fenge would bless him with a miracle. After all, as the fortunate boy born on the day of Kakava he was blessed from the moment he was born. All in, he didn’t even need to remind himself as he helped you wash your hair, relishing in the smile on your face, one you gifted him with today and tomorrow and every day to come.

[ghostlybailey]

imagine:

having your first thanksgiving dinner with joe and his family. your relationship is still new, having yet to hit the year mark. joe was having it at his house since it was his first thanksgiving at the new house. you stayed up all night trying to make sure everything was perfect and ready to go. currently , you were setting the table with some thanksgiving plates, you couldn’t seem to get the placement right. joe ran to the grocery store to grab some extra things, when he walked in to see you getting flustered. ‘babe, everything’s perfect the way it is’ joe said as he walked up to you and kissed you on the forehead. ‘i feel like these napkins just don’t match the color scheme of the plates, it looks tacky to me’ you tell him. ‘listen everything’s going to have some much food on it and half of them will get throw away, so i really don’t think it matters’ he chuckles. you stop what you’re doing, put your hands on your hips and turn towards him, ‘Joseph i understand that, i want everything to be perfect because quite literally your whole family is coming over, half of which i haven’t met so if you can’t tell i’m extremely nervous about it. i’m trying really hard not to freak out right now.’ joe put the bags down and quickly looked at you when you used his full name, ‘baby, first please don’t call me by full government name unless i really fucked up, scared me. second, they’re going to love you regardless if everything is perfect or not. i want you here at this house, sitting at this table, surrounded by my family and enjoying each others company. now go upstairs, shower, get ready or whatever you need to do before they arrive’. he leans over and pecks your lips while lightly pushing you towards the stairs. ‘i just want perfection that’s all. why do you have to be so perfect? i’ll go get ready joseph’ you winked at him and then turning to walk upstairs. at the end of the night, everything went perfect, joes family adores you to no ends. it didn’t matter if the table was set. all that mattered was that everyone was happy, and you were surrounded by loved ones especially your loving boyfriend that you hoped this would be the first of many thanksgivings with him.

[anniflamma]

OK FINE same anon with the fanfic ask XD Thank u for your amazing Epic animatics and your beloved and daniel animatics, just literally everything. I hope u enjoy this little snippet thing

Darius, he finds, is a man of perplexing mind, body, and spirit. The same man that coldly executes his traitors is the same man with tears in his eyes when Daniel emerges from the den, that hauls him into an embrace so crushing Daniel thinks he’ll go to God that day anyway.

Darius is not a fool, but he wields honesty and sincerity as sharp as a blade, never steps away from his convictions while also allowing room for redefinition. He tears down all of Daniel’s misgivings and years of disillusionment and pain, to make room for hope in a future.

Darius is not a perfect man. But to Daniel, he is a miracle.

One that gives him many headaches.

“How has no one ever told you how breathtakingly beautiful you are?”

And one that reminds him he is far, far too old for this.

The other facet of Darius that gives Daniel constant pause and constant rumination, is how he uses his emotions. He is neither detached from them nor a slave to them. He carries them openly, not worn as an armor or exposed as a weakness, but instead carried like a tool, honed finely to use for any conquest to the answers he seeks.

So yes, Daniel is aware that while Darius means this compliment, he is goading Daniel for a specific response.

Daniel clears his throat—ignores that Darius poorly hides a smile behind his hand—and fans out a roll of parchment to look over the records with the king.

“I know I say it often.” Darius tilts his head to rest it in his fist. “Yet you always deflect and hide away from it. I cannot tell if this is aversion or if no one has ever paid you due compliment for how radiant you are. If it’s the former, I shall stop. If it’s the latter, then I must continue to rectify this at all opportunities.”

Usually Daniel would deflect, though not when Darius calls him out on it. He’s long grown out of blushing. So he rubs at the tension between his brows with a sigh.

“Don’t make such flagrant assumptions with no evidence to back them, my king,” Daniel replies, with his most level advisory tone he can muster. “I was a young man once. You are not the first.”

He doesn’t know why he entertains this, but he does know it makes his heart race when Darius’s eyes light up with intrigue. Lord help him.

“Oh? Pray tell, who?”

Daniel rolls his eyes up and slowly counts to three. “Just about all the royal courts I’ve served when not trying to kill me.”

Darius’s brows predictably raise. He is quiet for a moment, schooling his reaction that Daniel wishes he would read. “I see.”

His mouth turns, a fine line of contemplation, and then asks, “Were there advances?

Of course there were. He wonders where this will go, if Darius will rear jealousy or pride over just how many have made a point to break Daniel down into his features and not his heart.

“Dare I answer that?”

Darius’s mouth tightens. “Was their reciprocity in those advances?”

No.

Daniel looks away. “I remember being summoned here for taxes, King Darius.”

Darius hums softly.

“I apologize for overstepping. I never intended to open old wounds.”

He is so disarming, his ability to reach past ever defense and seek Daniel exactly for what he is. His sheer strength and respect for another’s state of being will always rattle him to the core. Daniel looks back to him.

“It’s alright.”

Darius studies him, unwilling to break from their eye-contact and Daniel finds himself accidentally caught in the thousands of ruminations flickering in those warm eyes.

Darius sighs and straightens up. He leans across the table, palm fanning out of the parchment so that his fingertips brush the side of Daniel’s palm.

“As it stands,” Darius murmurs. “I did not know you as a young man. Has anyone ever told you how you shine now?”

Daniel’s cheeks heat before he can remind them he is not a teenager anymore.

“I don’t need flattery.”

“I’m not.” Darius leans down closer and Daniel shivers at the suddenness of their shared body heat. “I also have no intention of advances.”

Darius plucks the parchment from the desk, and steps away from his space. Like the pull of gravity Daniel nearly follows the impossible force of him as he retreats.

He peeks over the paperwork with a glint like a sheer devil. Daniel’s mouth twitches. He bites.

“These bones are not made for initiation anymore,” Daniel supplies, and Darius’s eyes squint up from behind the scroll with a clear grin.

“I find your tongue more than persuasive enough.”

Oh, the lions were easier to tame.

Omg!! This is amazing!! And the amount of flirting is insane!

"Oh, the lions were easier to tame." AAAAAHH!

More pliz I'm hungry...

Also... WHY ARE YOU ANON! I WANNA KNOW WHEN YOU POSTING THE FULL FIC! >:(

[madnessofmen]

Hang on fuck wait what is up with that design choice, hole in heart vs hole in head?!?!?! I've played so much and never picked up on that!! Great find and def want to hear thoughts on it if you've got some

In reference to a previous post:

has anybody considered the symbolism of gabriel's armor having a huge gaping hole in the chest

hello? can anybody hear me? hole in the head vs hole in the heart?

Ultrakill is a game about holes, and it's opposite, light, which, in turn, is about self actualization, free will, and determination.

Gabriel's heart

Gabriel's heart hole signifies not heartlessness, but rather alienation from his heart.

Ferrymen have lost their purpose and now wander around aimlessly, hoping that the angels would grant them passage into Heaven, despite Gabriel being the only one who cares about their efforts. (from terminal)

The way in which he "cares" is unclear, and could be anything from relaying their prayers to Heaven (Gabriel is a messenger angel in biblical canon, and is the patron saint of communication), to lawyering it up and advocating for them, to just watching sadly and doing nothing. But the fact remains: if Gabriel were complacent with the Council's rule, he would have simply accepted their verdict that they aren't allowed into heaven and thought no more of it. So the fact that he continued to care, indicates that this is a point on which he DISAGREED with the Council. This strongly implies that he was not just a blind stooge of heaven; he had his doubts even before the events of the game. And yet he persisted in acting as their enforcer. This is a crucial part of his arc that I almost never see people get.

(Gabriel also has lots of parallels with the ferrymen with "powerful bodies, trained skills and blind faith" which may have also played a part in his sympathy for them.)

When the Council severs Gabriel from God's light, "a single burning hatred was born anew." He tells V1, "You've taken everything from me, machine. And now all that remains is perfect hatred." But act 2 is literally titled Imperfect Hatred. It's only after losing a second time to V1 that "Gabriel realized he had been mistaken. The strong fire that burned inside him was not hatred at all, but passion." He has been alienated from his heart for so long that he doesn't know what his emotions are when he feels them, directionless except for where the Council points him.

Head holes and anti-holes

God's absence is a huge hole in Ultrakill. Where before there was the radiant light of God there is now nothing. The Council tried to fill this hole, but they merely serve to embody that continued hole. They have no will of their own, merely "[chasing] after the light of God's fire," and you can see this in their design; they are thoughtless.

Unlike the Council, Gabriel's head bears the cross. He truly believed in the righteousness of God and was persuaded to commit heartless acts in his name. I believe he felt some of that dissonance even as he committed such acts but quashed them under scripture.

Compare now the Council's head hole to V1, whose head is a radiant anti-hole. CRAZY implications in that alone.

The light of its creators is gone, but V1 has its own light, its own will, so self driven (by a love of bloodshed and a desire to live) that anyone can see it. Also note that the lights in V1's chest are over its pectorals. If Gabriel's heart hole is squandered compassion, then V1's pec lights are actualized strength.

Liberation by blood

"So this is what you see in bloodshed?" — unused Apostate Gabriel line

Blood in Ultrakill is implied to have transitive properties, granting all who have it sentience and free will, which is why machines all have personalities. And the machines are dependent on blood to live.

Gabriel's defeat in 6-2 and subsequent clarity of purpose is because of blood, and has two biblical analogs.

I've only known the taste of victory. But this taste is...is this my blood? I've never known such relief.

The first one is Eve eating the forbidden fruit. The serpent says, “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Original sin is why humans have free will.

Gabriel formerly bore the titles Will of God/God's Will. His song in 6-2 is Death of God's Will. And from intermission 2:

"He drew his blade and held it in contrast with the dying light. In its reflection, he saw a weapon reborn, no longer wielded by the will of another, but his own."

The second analog is holy communion. Bood drinking is a sacrament in Catholicism; it is through eating the body and drinking the blood of Christ that one strengthens their bond and achieves unity with him. But Gabriel is tasting his own blood. His communion is unity of heart and mind. It's only then that he's able to correctly identify what he is feeling.

Gabriel had never before known the joy of a struggle, of coming face-to-face with an opponent of equal or greater measure. Though he had lost twice, each loss only further grew his desire to overcome.

Up until now, he had only done what was expected of him, but now for the first time he had found something he himself wanted. Not even the fast encroaching End of Hell mattered to him anymore.

He wants to beat V1, not for the threat to hell it poses, not for the council, not to regain God's light, but because he wants to.

This communion also allows him to properly consider the doubts he had about the Council that he had previously suppressed.

Having come to realize the horrors he had committed in God's name, he felt a great guilt. Though he could not undo what he had done, Gabriel knew he had to make things right.

When Gabriel frees heaven from the Council's tyranny, he communicates this through blood, and very publicly. Everyone must see the blood, that they are free now.

Radiance

There are many ways God is connected to fire. The song that plays at each secret terminal is "The Fire Is Gone". The Council "chases the light of God's fire." His light is the angels' life force and is described as "embers". Compare this to the language used to describe Gabriel's passion: "a single burning hatred" and "the strong fire that burned inside him". God's light may be almost gone, but Gabriel has his own fire, his own light now. You can see it reflected in his wings and halo, the way they glow radiant gold against blue, not unlike V1.

Sisyphus' terminal entry:

Sisyphus' charisma and drive had made his warriors dependent on his radiance and guidance. Although he did not know why yet, Gabriel recognised this flaw, having experienced it first hand, and ordered a focused assault to take down the king.

Even before the game, Gabriel knew you could not rely on someone else's light! Presumably, he saw it in the losing side during the war in Heaven, but there is the possibility that he experienced it himself. Either way, this would have been one of the things that contributed to his growing disillusionment with the Council's rule, even if he couldn't place exactly why.

Minos' terminal entry:

As manifestations of pure will, souls are incredibly powerful, to the point that even the prideful angels see them as a threat and will use any means necessary to stop them from forming.

As Minos' will was strong enough to attempt to stand up to Heaven's rule, the angels chose to imprison his soul in an attempt to stop it from forming into a prime soul.

The fact that Gabriel not only stood up to the Council, but killed them all, means that he has a will greater than Minos. When his vessel dies, whether by the fading of God's light or one final defeat by V1, he may become a prime soul.

Minos and Sisyphus

Hole vs radiance. Their layers are night and day.

The way they failed to free their respective layers.

The king, rather than fight back, tried to reason with him, but Gabriel mercilessly struck him down without listening.

Sisyphus' time had finally come, and once the angels returned, they were met with a force and fury that had boiled in the hearts of men for millennia, a warcry so fierce it shook the very foundations of Hell.

Their feelings about their defeat to Gabriel.

From the prison inside his own body, Minos helplessly watched as his soulless corpse, now controlled by parasites, tore apart everything he had worked so hard to build, cursing his own weakness for failing to protect his people.

To him, fighting an impossible battle with full knowledge of its futility and taking joy in just the act of resistance itself is the ultimate rebellion against the oppressor.

(Compare also Apostate Gabriel's "joy of a struggle" vs Sisyphus "taking joy in just the act of resistance." One must imagine Gabriel happy.)

Their feelings about their defeat to V1.

Forgive me my children for I have failed to bring you salvation from this cold, dark world.

Ahh...So concludes the life and times of King Sisyphus. A fitting end to an existence defined by futile struggle, doomed from the very start...And I don't regret a SECOND of it!

Think about it.

[doonalli]

The Dummies, Midori, The Banquet, and what it truly means to "be human"

And here we are at the finale. if you haven't seen my previous analyses on the Dummies I recommend you read them before reading this one since i am going in assuming you have. But if not here they are in order; Why Anzu is Important Hayasaka and how humans change Kurumada and trust in your allies Ranmaru: Doubts in Humanity, and Humanity in Doubts Mai and Humanity in Autonomy Hinako; Humanity in Affection and Connection

With that said, let's start talking about the Banquet, Midori and what that says about the dummies' humanity.

At first the Banquet seems like a strange choice for the finale of the chapter, after all, we just went through a whole chapter about proving the humanity of the dummies, yet here they are all killed of one after the other here for the sake of Gin, a human. It comes off as a bit jarring, even seeming like YTTD is going back on its message a bit.

But I’m here to argue that isn’t the case, that the Banquet not only doesn’t conflict with the messaging of the chapter and the game as a whole, but instead works to push it even further to culminate in a perfect ending.

And to start with that, let's talk about one of the key players in the banquet, Midori. In a way Midori is everything it means to not be human, and he himself revels in this inhumanity. Midori has thrown away his own humanity, and this is shown to us in so many different ways, but the main one is the way he treats his own body.

What's particularly interesting about Midori is how unclear the line between what's real and what's fake is when it comes to him, from his relationships with the participants during their pasts, to the constant lies and half truths the tells over the chapter, to his death itself, it's hard to get a grasp on the reality of the situation when it comes to him.

And this of course extends to Midori himself, as he is presented as a mystery ever since Alice told Keiji about his murder, and in the way we don’t quite know if he is human or not until the banquet itself, and even then we don’t know exactly how much of his body is human.

During the Banquet Midori reveals that he has slowly been replacing parts of his body with doll parts, 

And to Midori this is equal to no longer being human, this mentality can only be achieved if you equate humanity to what you physically are, and it's through this that Midori acts as the opposite of what the dummies all stand for,

Where the dummies stand for Humanity not being tied to the physical truth, Midori stands for the opposite notion, that the physical truth stands above all. In his eyes humanity is a weakness, and we see that in how he treats them and the traits that prove humanity.

And so Midori tries to escape it, to escape his own humanity, no need for allies or connections or doubts or fears, all those "human" traits when you can just stand above it all, as some unstoppable force.

Midori is the perfect example of this because he constantly rubs it in your face just how inhuman he is, he does so when he starts spinning his head and when he rocket punches Yabusame and literally asks

And he furthers this mentality with his actions too, because Midori is denying his own humanity, he denies his fear of death, he constantly berates and betrays his allies like Maple or Hinako, he denies others of their choices and autonomy, laughing at their despair and refusing to connect, and even his “affection” for Sou is a twisted, messed up version of what affection is. All of it to dehumanise himself and others.

It's honestly hard to call Midori human after it all, and that's just what Midori wants. That's why Maple’s last act of defiance near the end of the chapter was so important, because it shows us and to Midori that that's all it is, a facade.

Just one small moment where Midori wasn’t in control and that's all it took to show us that he isn’t invincible, and with that the image of a fearless unstoppable force is shattered, and it shows us that he isn’t as above humanity as he thinks he is.

It's important that this happens here because it allows the cast to fight back during the next section, both himself and his ideals.

Midori’s mentality of humanity being defined by what you physically are goes head to head with the Dummies in the banquet, and that's what it's about, it's a battle between Midori, and the Dummies, who are trying to prove their own humanity, with all the ups and downs that come with it.

The banquet itself plays into this too, the hint system draws a straight, clear cut answer on who is a doll and who is a human, using exclusively what they are physically.

And the cast isn’t exempt from doing this too, with many of the first discussions being centred around “who is human?”, whether it be figuring out what the lights mean, questioning whether Midori himself is human, or questioning who among the Dummies is a human.

And it's only when Mai’s hands are revealed to be Midori’s human hands, that the lines start to blur. 

Does Mai having human hands make her "more human"? What if they aren't even hers? Plenty of people use body parts from others in real life too right? It gets you thinking about the line between human and doll and just how fragile and unclear it can be.

And sure we designate Midori as the human here, but later we find out we were wrong, because trying to designate a human through physical traits is wrong. But before that…

After picking a coffin and killing either Hayasaka or Kurumada the next hint reveals a human, Sara tells Midori that he must be afraid as hypothetically there is a 50% chance he dies, but Midori denies he is afraid of dying and picks the coffin anyways, revealing it to be Hinako

This just blurs the lines even more, since up to this point we thought all the dummies were dolls, yet a human was able to sneak in there entirely undetected. Can you really say they're that different if you didn't even realise it at first?

And importantly, as we discuss who Hinako really was, we confirm her humanity, but not through any physical traits like many people tried to do during the banquet, but through a painting and the connection between Alice and the real Hinako.

During the next section we figure out the truth about Midori, and about how he has more doll parts than human, spinning his head all the way around to prove it. Obviously this isn’t something that any human could do, but more importantly it shows us Midori’s inhumanity in an undeniable way, it's so flashy, bold and in your face, that you’d be hard pressed to call him human.

When Sara then stands firm and states that this proves Midori is a doll and Gin is a human she is agreeing to the line that Midori drew and separates Humans and Dolls even further. This goes as far as to picking a red coffin, picking a doll, just to keep Gin the human safe, Midori even calls Sara out on it if she is really alright with picking one of the dummies, and notably Sara’s internal monologue doesn’t question that fact, but instead wondering why Midori is so confident, and why he doesn’t seem to be scared.

Sara is being pushed even further into believing Midori isn’t really human anymore at this point, Questioning if their logic was even correct. Until…

The surviving dummies inspire Sara through their words, and with that, prove their own humanities in their own separate ways, showing Sara and the player that their lives have purpose, have value, and that they are truly human.

On the surface it seems like Sara is simply making a choice to sacrifice the dolls for the sake of a human, and the tragedy of that is the fact these scenes show the truest form of their humanity. There is a reason these scenes are such a focal point in my analysis of each of those characters (Mai, Kurumada, and Hayasaka) and it's because it shows that they are able to make their own choices, for the sake of their allies, despite their contradictory emotions, and that's something that's inherently human. 

We see this when characters like Mishima, Kai, and Kanna all do something similar, and it all just works to prove that fact the dummies aren’t separate from the humans.

So why does this happen? Well to me it shows that despite their efforts, Sara still couldn’t shake her bias, playing right into what the Banquet and Midori want, by dehumanising the dummies.

But it isn’t over and the dummies still have a chance to show their humanity.

Tragically, Sara misses, not knowing at this point that Midori isn’t even in one of the glowing coffins, and Midori now has a free shot that's basically guaranteed to hit Gin, but Midori gives her a chance to talk to Gin, and that confidence ends up being his undoing.

While talking to Gin he mentions Keiji, reminding Sara of her wish she got from signing the consent form. She demands Midori to change it, and after some arguing, he does. Only he picks the #2 coffin, killing Anzu, and it's here where we reach our lowest point, where Sara herself admits that she undeniably sacrificed a doll for the sake of a human.

However it's always darkest before the dawn, and that's true here too, this is the Dummies’ last chance to prove themselves, and they won’t go down without a fight.

Through a discussion the cast figures out that Hinako swapped coffins with Midori before the banquet even began, meaning he is actually in a non-glowing coffin, and through this they are given an actual chance to fight back, because, as Sara rightfully called out, this proves Midori is afraid of death.

Despite his claims otherwise, Midori is scared of death, and because of that he swapped coffins with Hinako out of a fear he’d die outwise.

Midori claims that this doesn’t matter though as no matter what all 3 of the non glowing coffins have dolls inside, meaning the hit will be red no matter what. 

Regardless Sara presses the hint and it ends up blue, meaning that there is a human inside, much to everyone’s surprise.

The fact that Midori believed so strongly that the coffins would end up red only for it to be blue just blurs the lines between these two options even more. The fact that the contents in this coffin are unknown is just the first step in this counterattack.

Before that however, Ranmaru’s coffin is picked, sending Sara to give up, but Q-taro tells her that it's not what she thinks, as Midori is revealed to be struggling with his next choice.

This goes into the war of words against Midori, and the thing about this one is that compared to the other war of words our goal here is to confuse Midori as much as possible. First we refute his claim that Keiji isn’t in the coffin, despite it being blue. Then when he brings up the victim videos we tell him that the Hinako in the video isn’t even the Hinako of the dummies. He reasons out Maple must have told Keiji about the Banquet, and reveals that the coffins designate between human and doll through the collars, as both dolls and humans would be ashes after being cremated.

All these contradictions are designed to blur the lines between red and blue, real and fake, human and doll.

The way Midori doubts a human is in the blue coffin, or the way we bring up how not all the dummies are dolls of people who died, or how he admits that the coffins don’t even tell the content apart by physical traits but instead by the collar put on them.

And by the end we’ve blurred the lines so much that Midori thinks the coffin contains his collar, despite his own claim that he himself would be counted as a doll. All due to Q-taro's trick.

As if Hinako being a Human among the dolls wasn't enough, there has been a doll among the humans the whole time, and no one could tell, not even Midori, who dies before he ever learns the truth.

The fact that a doll of someone could so easily fit in just shows how vague the lines really are. We see just how much a doll can seem like a human, how they can feel and learn and grow like any human, how they laugh and cry and shout like any human. And at that point... was there ever really even a line at all? And this all culminates in the final act of the Banquet, Midori and Sara’s last choices. Midori is now doubting himself,

struggling between the 2 options he has to target, struggling with his conflicting feelings,

 and Sara thinks to herself that Midori has no allies to rely on now,

because he denied that connection, and killed them all himself.

She tells him to choose, to make his own choices now,

and he does, he picks the non glowing coffin… Missing Gin and ultimately dooming himself.

Sara ends up making her choice, choosing Midori’s coffin, and as the drill goes through Midori, he realises just how scared of death he is, but it's too late for him.

We prove his mentality of humanity being decided by physical traits is wrong in this moment, because here, in his final moments, Midori is undeniably human, and even he can’t run away from that.

"I'm a human. Which is why I don't wanna die..."

Unlike somebody such as Rio, who also spent his last moments as a human, Midori doesn’t deserve any sympathy, because he did that to himself. Just like how he denied that connection to his allies like Hinako, and killed them, Midori essentially killed his humanity, or at least tried to, so when he’s backed into a corner he doesn’t get to rely on his allies, and while we’ve proven that his mentality of humanity isn’t right, Midori himself he only realises this right as he is about to die, when it's far too late to go back now.

Through the Banquet and its final choice we prove to not only Midori, but to the cast and ourselves that humanity can’t be defined with just the physical truth, and that's what victory means for the dummies, because if someone who actively threw away his own humanity, with all his rocket punches and spinning head can still struggle with contradictory feelings, can try to rely on his allies, can still be forced to make his own choice, and can truly fear death, then humanity  just can’t be defined by something as simple as how much of your body is a doll, and the lines that seemed to divide that, ceases to exist at all.

================================================================================================ Afterword: So that's it. This set of analyses is finally done. Some of you all might have noticed that this is being released exactly one year after my first Anzu analysis, and I just wanted to thank everyone for reading this with me, the fact that there are people who like and agree with what I have to say is still unbelieveable.

I started this series because I thought the dummies were an underappreciated part of YTTD and 3-1 was underappreciated in general. To me this chapter is just incredible, my favourite bit of fiction ever, and I just wanted to put it into words why I love it so much, and as I wrote this series I only grew to love it more!

I hope I was able to share that love to whoever took the time to read any of my posts, its been an incredible time, thank you so much! and i hope you're able to love it a bit more too.

Sorry this one took so long to come out, I've been working on a few projects that i'll hopefully be able to drop soon, and if you're a fan of the dummies I think you'll like what I have in store.

Lastly I want to thank Crazy Sunshine for being such an incredible friend and for helping me so much with the latter half of these analyses, they were improved so much with their help!!!!

And I'll try to be more consistent with these posts but uhh i said that before and that hasn't exactly worked out, regardless this isn't the end, i have a few asks to catch up on still and i am not even remotely close to saying all there is to say about this incredible chapter, so I hope you'll be there when it drops. I hope you've enjoyed this era of my blog and moreso I hope you look forward to the future.

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed! and I hope I got you thinking about this incredible chapter even just a little bit more.

[eliotquillon]

I NEED a wilson and cameron meta/drabble, how did they meet? how are they on a first-name basis? why is wilson such a big hameron shipper?

anon i love you . thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about wilson and cameron!!!

speaking about them briefly as Characters, and not as ‘people’: the parallels between then both are really, really fascinating. by the end of the show, both of them have been married three times. she lost her first husband; he lost amber. wilson contracts thymus cancer, and cameron’s first husband had thyroid cancer before it metastasised—both are endocrine. they are both explicitly attracted to this idea of ‘neediness’; they have both fallen in love with someone else while still married (though only one of them acted on it); they’re both very concerned with…how do i put this, externality?? there’s a conflict in how they want to present themselves to the world versus how they really feel. cameron consistently has these high-brow morals that she struggles to follow through on, either because they conflict with each other or because it isn’t easy to act on. wilson wants to be seen as a good guy, wants to give all he can to people, and often does so—but is also itching, sometimes, for an excuse to act out, and he and house are drawn to each other as a result. i think really the best way to sum them up is that they’re puzzle pieces that look like they fit, but…don’t.

anyway. onto them as ‘people’, i guess:

truth be told i think wilson and cameron truly just met in the context of her showing up to work one day as one of house’s fellows. that said. i have NEVER been able to get to the bottom of why wilson randomly calls her ‘allison’ in maternity and at this point i don’t think i ever will. literally one of the first houseposts i did on main was about this because i was like ‘what’. but at a best guess i would say this was intended as shorthand/foreshadowing for the fact that, well, cameron is by far the fellow that wilson hangs out with the most. they get tons of scenes and subplots together in s1 and 2. and i think she’s probably the fellow he likes the most. she’s nice, she’s willing to stand up for herself, she cares about house—these are all qualities that wilson either has himself or seems to wish he had, and while foreman and chase each have some of these, cameron’s really the only one who starts off with all three. WHICH IS NOT TO SAY THAT CAMERON IS PERFECT or flawless because like. Lol no. but her good qualities are mostly things that wilson values, and i think that’s important; it’s probably why they appear to get along). (also, logistically speaking—cameron is a big focus of that episode, and the ones after it, because it’s the leadup to the dead husband reveal. it makes sense to reveal her first name to a casual watcher at this point, it just so happens that wilson being the one to do so feels…wonky, in retrospect. it probably would’ve made more sense for it to be foreman or chase to reveal her first name—she’s the one to repeatedly use theirs in her self help book era—but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

as to why wilson is such a huge hameron shipper: DESPITE EVERYTHING I HAVE SAID ABOVE, i think this is less about cameron and more about house. don’t get it twisted: wilson for sure ‘approves’ of cameron. she’s good at reading him—although she overplays it, in the end—she has all of the above listed qualities, and, y’know. nobody else is exactly throwing themselves at house at this point. she’s young and pretty, what’s not to like. but for all of this approval, all that he eggs house on…he still gives her a shovel talk. he warns her not to hurt house’s feelings, that she has the power to do so. he likes cameron, sure, but he’s obviously far, far more invested in house. and house is entertaining it, at least briefly! he buys a corsage and asks for tips on what to say. he’s willing to give it a go. this, i think, is why wilson wants house to go for it—not because cameron is particularly special, but because house is open to the idea and on paper it might be good for him. key words being on paper, lol. wilson is on board and he thinks house needs the extra push. note how wilson’s hameron shipping basically melts away entirely after stacy returns—he’s sure as hell not encouraging that relationship, but it’s funny how he never suggests house rebound with cameron instead. if house takes it off the table entirely, then wilson follows suit.

you did not ask for this, but: my own personal headcanon is that when cameron leaves for chicago, her and wilson stay on christmas card terms—but like. weirdly passive aggressive christmas card terms. on paper the friendliness is still there, she still helped him through the grief of amber, but—she severed ties with house. she believes him to be poison. wilson, though technically his own person…is still an extension. wilson i think probably has similarly cool feelings about her, too. but they’re both trapped in a kill-em-with-kindness-off wherein they keep promising to see each other if wilson ever ends up in chicago for a conference. he does not ever end up in chicago for a conference. lmao. ultimately i think it’s kind of a sad end to what seemed to be a genuine friendship, but…they both chose a side. i don’t think the friendship survives it.

[corvidares]

breaking down arcane's s2 intro

this intro sequence is so damn good - i spotted new symbolic details every episode. so here's a post about everything i noticed!

spoiler warning for the whole show!

everyone featured in this intro is dressed very plainly, in white underclothes, showing how much this sequence is about where people are at emotionally, a commentary on vulnerability. this is a big theme this season. even the setting is plain, highlighting only the characters in a way that feels like a mental landscape.

immediately, we see vi wiping away her face tattoo as if its shallow ink, naturally showing how she betrays her own values and personhood in (briefly) becoming an enforcer, helping caitlyn gas the fucking undercity, and hunt down her sister.

i saw a post that pointed this out, so i cant take credit for it; ekko standing there forms shadows that mimic the hands on a clock, foreshadowing his time travel powers.

viktor is almost entirely obscured in an oversized cloak, reaching to pick up a mask and contemplate it. his entire personhood is murky, in question. hes about to don an identity much larger than himself. that being fantasy jesus the herald of course. the mask will be him taking on that role, as well as eventually putting it on to suppress his humanity entirely, even in a literal sense when he changes forms.

next we get embessa, sitting regally, surrounded by fallen petals and holding a black rose in her hand, examining it. this reflects her history with the black rose, the conflict - her son and the council member die for it, and countless others im sure. but shes still got her predatory gaze fixed on it. a slash of light goes through her - perhaps symbolizing a break in the family legacy, between their past and present. mel will be taking over and changing things, changing the family's relationship with magic.

caitlyn psyches herself up, then hesitantly steps out past a curtain into a lit space, tilting her chin up after a moment in a show of bravado. clearly showing her "stepping onto the stage" and into her role of new power; both under embessa and in the wake of her mother's legacy as a councilmember.

jayce squints in the face of a floodlight, bringing up his hand to block out. the light is the arcane, and he blocks it out in his refusal to let it take over the world with viktor's perfect evolution.

embessa crushes the rose in her hand, but curiously, her eyes glow. perhaps showing that her being with whoever mel's other parent is, the magical one, is her introducing magic to the family?

then we cut to mel, who again has that slash of light going down the exact center of her face. shadowy hands reach out to her, and her expression if one of apprehension. she closes her eyes as they close in. the slash is back representing this divide, this change, and most importantly her decision regarding this change. she hasnt made it yet, and despite all signs pointing to her needing to, she closes her eyes to the bigger picture, her mothers influence and agents creep in, nearly overtaking her. the black rose does literally capture and almost kill her.

jinx waves her flag, and we see her shadows multiply behind her. she has unwittingly started a revolution with her image, people are inspired by it and use it to push for change. we zoom into her expression and its uncertain, and yet full of wonder. she is reconciling with what shes created, this revolution in her name.

we cut to vi's face, hardened in determination, and then to her and caitlyn facing off. theyre intimately close, and yet they crash into each other just a moment later, obviously showing theyre conflicting ideals this season literally breaking them up. this is in direct relation with the previous shot of jinx, because it comes down to her and caitlyn doing anything she can to hunt her down.

caitlyn is now alone, breathing heavily, and her fingers around her face form a shadow of a clawed crown. shes wearing it now, but her leadership is a violent one. she peers up through her fingers, towards the light. perhaps realizing what shes done?

ekko runs forward and then rewinds time. time travel. not much else to say here LMAO

we go back to the same shot of mel from before, but now she opens her eyes and roars, the shadows immediately being driven away. she is stepping up, taking charge of her own destiny, influences be damned. next shes sitting on the same couch her mom was earlier, picking up that same black rose with intrigue. she is finally learning what it is, how it relates to her family and herself. picking up gently where her mother refused to.

we see, jayce again, but now from his own perspective, raising up his hand to the bright light, which then cuts to viktor about to don the mask. cut again to jayce, from behind, still squinting into that light. he is the last one to stand against viktor's glorious revolution, to save his last dreggs of humanity.

all that, in just over a minute.. so fucking good. not to mention the various frames that change from episode to episode, which arent really visible unless you slow down the footage, but hint to various happenings.

[the-au-thor]

ʙᴀʙʏꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴜɴ | ᴘᴛ.14 | ᴇ.ᴍ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Summary: everything is coming up roses (not really)

Cynthia and Gareth get married. You look stunning, Mun's hot.

Everything is gonna explode in your faces.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fey!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Click here

[¹][²][³][⁴][⁵][⁶][⁷][⁸][⁹][¹⁰][¹¹][¹²][¹³][¹⁴][¹⁵]

You climbed the stairs of the massive château, carrying your high boots in hand, and walked down the hallway. Before you even opened the door, you called out Eddie's name, pushing it open and stepping inside. They were about to play the final dance of the night, and you weren’t about to waste it searching for him. He’d mentioned going to the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago.

You’d been with him long enough to know that even if Eddie was setting some kind of bathroom world record, he wouldn’t take this long. So, with a slight huff, you shoved the door open and entered the room. The lamps on the bedside tables were on, casting a soft light across the space. That’s when you saw him, sitting on the bed, his profile illuminated.

He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his thighs, his hands holding his trusty notebook open.

“What…?” you murmured, catching your breath with a half-smile. “What are you doing with my notebook, Munson?” you asked, your voice teasing but tinged with reproach.

Eddie lifted his face to look at you, his expression fractured by a furrowed brow. There was something there—a mix of worry and maybe even disapproval.

“Your notebook fell on the floor,” he explained, pulling a card from the open pages. You recognized it instantly; Will had given it to you in Glastonbury after offering you that job. You’d tucked it into the notebook, trying not to stress about a decision you already knew, deep down, that you’d made but hadn’t been ready to face.

“Fey,” he said, his voice heavy, “I need to know why you’ve got Will Walsh’s number tucked away in here.”

You swallowed hard, bracing yourself. This was the start of a tough conversation, and a wedding wasn’t exactly the perfect setting for discussing your future with your partner. Everything had been going so smoothly—of course, something like this would come up now.

You’d arrived in France a few days ago, and right after the second concert in Paris, everyone traveled to Château du Rivau. A place originally built as a medieval fortress, steeped in history—literally—from the Hundred Years' War onward. It was almost spiritual, as Cynthia had put it, to add this union to the château’s storied past.

“Not that you can compare a rock star’s wedding to Joan of Arc’s cavalry,” Robin had whispered in your ear, “but I get her point.”

Robin, Steve, and Vickie had arrived to Paris with you. The rest of the psrty would arrived to the Wedding. Eddie, being the amazing friend he was, had ignored their protests and insisted on covering the best suite and all the meals and parties for them. Steve had even reconnected with an old friend working as a chef at one of the restaurants they visited. Robin assured you that this one was strictly a friend, which somehow made the whole thing even more romantic. Everything was still fresh, but Robin was convinced this could lead somewhere meaningful.

“This place, Fey… have you seen it?” Eddie had murmured, collapsing onto the bed you’d share for the week. “I could write an entire album here. Just give me a pencil, a tape recorder, and lock me in with you.”

He’d reached out, gently tugging you down beside him.

You’d followed naturally, curling up almost on top of him, resting your head on his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re writing in the middle of a huge tour,” you reminded him, tracing slow, idle patterns along his side. Your hand skimmed over the fabric of his Judas Priest shirt, your fingers occasionally catching on the faint ridges of old scars beneath.

“These days are for Garret and Cynthia,” you added softly, not looking up. “Maybe take a little break?”

The rooms in the château were limited. The new owners, who’d taken over in 1992, were still restoring parts of the property, leaving some wings unavailable for guests. That meant sharing rooms was a necessity. The group didn’t mind; they’d once all crammed into Mike’s basement, and nothing could ever be worse than that.

Eddie had kissed the back of your neck in silent acknowledgment before eventually drifting off to sleep. You’d pressed a kiss to his cheek, easing out of bed with practiced care not to wake him.

You wandered through the château’s winding halls until you reached the rear gardens. The courtyard had been restored, and a few gardeners were tending the trees and flowerbeds, giving the space a refreshed glow.

You hugged yourself, taking in the view until Robin’s voice interrupted your reverie. She and Vickie approached, arms wrapped around each other, both smiling as they studied you.

“What?” you asked, noticing the curiosity sparkling in their eyes.

"You look worried. Didn’t Cynthia hire a wedding planner?" Vickie asked, her tone genuinely concerned.

Robin let out a sigh.

"Don’t tell me she roped you into organizing everything?"

You laughed, relaxing your arms.

"Oh, she tried," you said with a half-smile. "But I’m pretty sure I found her a solid planner who’s going to handle all her requests."

Robin let go of Vickie, tilting her head at you.

"Then why do you look like someone peed in your cereal?"

You saw Vickie try to elbow her, but it didn’t seem to faze Robin at all. The two of them stared at you, their curiosity piercing. You hesitated for a few seconds before finally speaking.

"You two work in the music industry, right?" you asked, scratching at your scalp.

"Yeah, well, I’m in music production," Robin started, "and Vickie handles all the boring stuff."

Vickie crossed her arms, her mouth tightening into a silent growl.

"Legal. I handle all the legal stuff," she corrected while Robin nodded and gestured like, Yeah, I said that.

You took a moment, looking down at the ground before meeting their eyes again. "Good enough for me," you admitted, starting to pace. A step here, a step there. "And I’m trusting in the concept of confidentiality—especially from…" you pointed briefly at Vickie, who nodded in understanding.

Stopping in front of them, hands still on your hips, you exhaled sharply. Then, with a slight pout, you finally said it:

"About a month ago, Will Walsh came up to me at Glastonbury…"

Robin’s grin spread like wildfire, sharp and knowing.

"I see you remember that, Robin," you said dryly.

"Of course I do," she shot back, like it was obvious.

"He told me he’s leaving his brother."

Vickie gasped, placing a hand on Robin’s shoulder as if that single motion could communicate a flood of emotion.

"Oh my God," she said first. "Robs…"

"It’s happening," Robin said, nodding, just as shocked. "He’s leaving that jackass!" She spoke with such conviction, closing her eyes like she was savoring the thought.

"The musical balance is finally going to be restored," Vickie said with a smile.

Okay, so clearly they were fans of The Lull, but like the rest of the world, not fans of Freddie Walsh.

"So… back to my story," you teased, amused by their reactions. "Will made me a not-so-tiny offer to become his…"

"MANAGER! YOU’RE GOING TO BE HIS FREAKING MANAGER!" Robin screamed, jumping up and down.

Your eyes widened in panic as you looked around, rushing to cover her mouth. "Vickie, what part of confidentiality did she…? Oh, crap, do these walls echo, or what?"

Vickie massaged Robin’s shoulder casually, smiling.

"Give her a second," she said with a shrug. "It’s the excitement. She has to let it out, or she’ll get migraines, you know?"

Sure enough, Robin’s volume eventually lowered to a more manageable level.

"Muh-muf-tajk-it," she mumbled against your hand. You let go."Take it. Take the job. What are you even talking about? It’s your dream!" Robin exclaimed insistently. "What’s the problem?"

"The problem…" you murmured, looking between them, meeting their eyes in turn. "…is that I haven’t told Eddie. And Will’s business card has been burning a hole in my notebook—and my conscience—for weeks. Eddie keeps asking why I haven’t signed Robert’s new contract, and I haven’t found the right time to tell him. It never feels like the right time."

The three of you fell silent. Robin seemed to be deep in thought, mulling over the best way to respond. Vickie, however, was already smiling, her opinion at the ready.

"Oh, honey," Vickie started gently, "there’s no such thing as the right time. You have to make the time."

Robin nodded. "And it’s not like you’re telling him you’re breaking up with him or that you’ve…"

"I don’t know, caught a rare and deadly disease," Vickie finished, placing her hand over yours. "Sure, it might be a little weird for him at first. Eddie’s pretty competitive when it comes to your…"

"Attention," Robin interjected, clearly finding the right word before Vickie could.

"Yes! Attention. Exactly," Vickie agreed. "And yeah, it might feel a little strange, but if there’s anyone who’s ready to be your biggest fan and see you shine, it’s Eddie. Remember how he reacted at Steve’s party?"

"He was so mad about underestimating your talent and how Robert was overworking you," Robin recalled with a smirk. "He’ll be fine. You just need to tell him."

You nodded, absorbing their advice, and reached a conclusion.

"Maybe not during the wedding, though…"

They nodded in unison.

"Definitely not during the wedding," they agreed.

You smiled. "I’ll tell him after, then. Right? It’s not crazy to say yes to this. Is it?"

"It’s not crazy," Vickie reassured you.

"And I’m not leaving Eddie. I’m just working for someone else, and he’ll understand."

Robin scoffed. "Eddie? Of course."

That evening, dinner was served in an enormous dining hall that had been recently renovated. It was almost too ostentatious—tall ceilings with elaborate frescoes, chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a museum—but you knew it would make for a great story someday, the kind you'd laugh about with friends: "Remember when we had dinner in that over-the-top château?"

The band had asked you to hire cooks for the days they'd be staying, and the château's owners had recommended staff who could help with anything you might need. The meal was lavish, course after course arriving as the sound of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter filled the room.

As you ate, you caught Dustin watching you from across the table. His expression was thoughtful, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

When Eddie leaned over and offered you a taste of his dessert, you didn’t hesitate. You took a small bite from his spoon, then instinctively reached out with a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth. He smiled at you, that genuine, easy smile that lit up his face in a way that still caught you off guard sometimes.

“That,” Dustin said, breaking the moment but not the warmth of it, “is exactly what I was talking about that night by the lake.” His tone was soft, a quiet reflection. “Seeing him like this? It makes me happy. Makes sense, you know?”

Eddie chuckled softly, brushing off Dustin’s sentimental tone, but his hand found yours under the table, squeezing it just enough to make you feel what words couldn’t say.

The sounds of the wedding preparations echoed outside. You and the rest of the girls had gathered in Nancy and Jonathan’s room to get ready. Cynthia had been sweet enough to hire a stylist for herself, her bridesmaids, and all of you, even though she didn’t have to.

As you got dressed and had your makeup done, the girls talked about their dream weddings. Some of them saw it as a distant future; others, like Suzie, felt it was just around the corner—literally. You listened, amused, as they debated everything from family life to the ideal number of kids. Nancy wanted one, citing her career and the importance of giving a child quality attention. Suzie agreed but for simpler reasons; she’d grown up surrounded by siblings and craved personal space.

Robin and Vickie wanted “a ton,” laughing about a rainbow of kids from all walks of life.

You felt a bit out of place in the conversation. You hadn’t thought much about love, let alone a family. But for a moment—just a fleeting second—you pictured yourself in that kind of life.

The revelation hit like a gut punch, leaving you feeling both heavy and hollow. Was it the wedding atmosphere? Or the way Eddie’s face came so vividly to mind in that fleeting fantasy? Whatever it was, it terrified you.

The girls left the room one by one, their black dresses trailing behind them as they headed outside. The groomsmen were supposed to be wearing white, except for Gareth and Cynthia, who stuck to traditional attire.

As you stepped out of the room, you didn’t expect to find Eddie waiting for you.

He was dressed in white too, though his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and his bow tie hung loose around his neck, giving him that effortlessly cool but maddeningly attractive vibe. His hair had been tied into a neat bun, styled just enough to look intentional while still keeping his edge.

The chain with the ring he always wore dangled from his neck, and his fingers were adorned with his usual array of oversized rings—including the one you’d given him in Denmark.

Your mouth opened, words tumbling out before you could stop them.

"What? Trying to outshine the groom?" you teased, not bothering to hide the fact that you were really looking at him—from his boots to his perfectly tousled hair.

But Eddie stayed quiet, doing the same to you.

It felt like his gaze burned wherever it landed, starting with your black platform boots and slowly trailing up to your exposed shoulders.

You laughed nervously. "What?" you asked again, as if the word could shield you from the intensity of his stare.

Eddie wasn’t going to let it slide. Leaning against the stone wall of the castle’s west wing, he let out an incredulous laugh and shook his head.

“Jesus Christ, Fey,” he muttered, disbelief dripping from his tone. “God…” His eyes lifted to the ceiling, as if pleading to the heavens instead of addressing you. Slowly, his gaze dropped again—fixing on you, then on the gift he’d given you, now draped perfectly on your figure.

“Hurricanes are gonna get their names from you,” he said, dragging his fingers over his mouth like he needed to stop himself from saying more. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your skin prickle as if he were physically touching you.

For a few seconds, silence stretched between you, heavy and electric. Then, as if he couldn’t bear it any longer, Eddie crossed the space and cupped your face, pulling you into a kiss.

You surrendered without hesitation, your body leaning into his like it was second nature. Only when your breath faltered did you manage to break away, gasping for air. Eddie didn’t seem to care. While you caught your breath, his lips continued their exploration—trailing kisses across your jaw and cheek, as if no inch of you could go unacknowledged.

“Munson…” you murmured, his lips dipping to your neck, setting off a rush of warmth that pooled in your core.

This. Wasn’t. Normal.

“Mmm?”

“Mun…” you laughed softly when he kissed the center of your chest, just above the edge of your black dress. His hands pressed into your lower back, pulling you against the cold stone.

“What the hell—” you managed, breathless, as his lips continued their downward path, dangerously close to challenging the fabric separating him from his goal.

“Fey,” he murmured against your skin, his lips returning to your neck like it was home. “Gareth doesn’t need me.”

“You’re his best man,” you reminded him, your voice tinged with both amusement and exasperation.

“He’ll forgive me.—Eventually,” Eddie replied, voice low, his hold on you unyielding.

“Babe, this is one of your best friends’ weddings. It can wait.”

“No, no, no,” he protested, shaking his head. “Fey, this moment—this—is going to slip away, and I can’t let that happen. Not now. Not like this.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze urgent, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“This damn dress. Oh, God,” he groaned, glancing up at the ceiling again like it might save him. “How the hell did I not think this through? You can’t wear that dress and look at me like that. Fey, how do you expect me to stand next to Gareth all night knowing you’re out here looking like trouble?”

You laughed, but it wasn’t all at him. His frustration mirrored your own, though he didn’t seem to realize how much of it you shared.

“It’s not going to slip away,” you reassured him, cupping his face and kissing him softly. “We’ll pick this up later, right where we left off.”

He seemed to understand then, the tension in his frame softening slightly. In the quiet corridor, Eddie pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead—a gesture so reverent it felt like a signature on invisible promises.

With a heavy sigh, he nodded, taking your hand firmly in his. When he finally let you go, it was with clear reluctance. You watched as he returned to the hall, positioning himself beside Big Rock and Jeff, ready to fulfill his role.

The Château stood like a timeless gem in the French countryside, its stone walls bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon sunlight. A long gravel path lined with meticulously trimmed hedges led to the grand entrance, where guests were already gathering. The theme was strikingly unconventional yet undeniably sophisticated—men dressed in pristine white suits, save for Gareth, who stood out in a classic black tuxedo. Women, draped in flowing black gowns of silk and velvet, created an ethereal contrast. Cynthia, radiant and otherworldly, was the exception among them.

Her blonde hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, catching the golden light. Her gown was a dream of white lace and satin, tailored to perfection. The neckline dipped tastefully, and the train swept gracefully behind her as she walked, a vision of timeless elegance. In her hands, she carried a bouquet of pale orchids and roses, a touch of white amidst the dark palette.

The ceremony took place in the château’s rose garden, framed by rows of perfectly pruned hedges and trellises heavy with climbing roses. A soft string quartet played in the background, their music weaving through the gentle murmur of the guests. Garret, standing at the altar beneath a wrought-iron arch adorned with white roses and greenery, could barely hide the emotion in his eyes as Cynthia approached.

The reception was held in the grand ballroom, its walls adorned with intricate carvings and chandeliers dripping with crystal. Long tables covered in white linen and accented with black centerpieces—candles, delicate vases filled with lilies—gave the room a timeless, cinematic charm. Champagne flowed freely as friends and family toasted the couple, their laughter filling the air.

The black-and-white theme extended to every detail—the towering wedding cake was a stunning black fondant masterpiece, adorned with white sugar flowers, and even the dance floor was a checkered marble expanse. As the evening deepened, Cynthia and Garret shared their first dance beneath the glittering chandeliers, their silhouettes perfect contrasts against the black-and-white backdrop.

It was a wedding for the ages, unforgettable in its bold elegance and the palpable love that filled every corner of the château.

Eddie’s eyes were on you throughout the entire ceremony—those deep brown eyes locked on yours, intense, as if silently repeating the promise you’d made to each other earlier. You felt it low in your stomach, a warmth building with every glance. There was no way you’d make it through the night without Eddie’s hands on every inch of you. You knew it. You felt it. And at this point, you didn’t care—you wanted it. That desire felt amazing, not obscene or easy to dismiss, and you both seemed to agree. You prolonged the feeling as much as possible: through dinner, the toasts, the cake, and the dance floor.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” Eddie announced, his breath warm against your neck as he pulled his hands away from your waist.

“Come on, Munson!” Steve groaned from his spot on the dance floor, arms wrapped around her famous friend you’d barely had the chance to greet before the ceremony started.

“I’ll be back,” Eddie called over the music, leaning in to kiss you quickly before walking away.

Max and Jane pulled you to the dance floor, urging you to join them. You’d kicked off your platform boots, dancing barefoot now, the cool tiles grounding you as you twirled and swayed. You barely felt your feet, but you wouldn’t stop until the celebration officially ended and everyone had retired to their rooms. Two more songs passed, and Eddie still hadn’t returned. A flicker of worry crept in—you imagined him a little too drunk, lost somewhere in the château’s half-renovated wing, buried under scaffolding and rubble.

When you finally found him, of course, it wasn’t at all what you’d expected. That conversation you’d planned to have after the wedding? It had come early.

You didnt' plan to throw it at him like this. Not in the quiet tension of that room in that dark and big castle. Not in the middle of a wedding.

“Feywild,” Eddie’s voice cut through your thoughts like a jagged blade, pulling you back into the present. You turned toward him, only to meet the weight of his accusing glare. In his hand was Will Walsh’s business card, the number you’d tucked away scrawled across the back like a secret exposed. “Why the hell do you have Will’s personal number in your planner?”

The air between you felt electric, suffocating. You frowned, struggling to suppress the unease crawling up your spine.

“Sounds like you think I shouldn’t,” you murmured, stepping closer. The ache in your chest deepened as you kicked off your black boots, their heavy thud lost in the charged silence. Reaching for the planner in his hands, you tried to keep your voice steady. “What is this, some kind of rule now?”

His eyes didn’t soften—if anything, they darkened, sharp as broken glass. “You know that’s not what I’m asking, Fey,” he said tightly, his jaw twitching with the effort to hold himself together. “I just... I thought you said you weren’t taking that offer, that Freddie was a walking disaster. So why the fuck keep Will’s number if you’re not planning to take the job?”

You felt your pulse quicken as his words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations. Your tongue darted over your dry lips, a nervous reflex, and you reached out to pluck the card from his grasp. It felt flimsy in your fingers, weightless compared to the storm brewing in the room.

“I wasn’t gonna talk about this until after the wedding,” you admitted softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your voice wavered, and you hated the vulnerability it betrayed. “Will’s leaving his brother to go solo, and he—he offered…”

“You’re leaving me for Will Walsh?” Eddie’s voice cracked, and for a fleeting moment, the sharp edge of anger faltered, replaced by something raw and pained. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Are you joking? No,” you said quickly, though your heart clenched at the disbelief etched across his face. “I’m not leaving you. I meant the job—he asked me to be his manager.”

The words hung in the air, but they didn’t seem to reach him. His jaw tightened, and his gaze flickered away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “And when exactly did you decide this?”

The question felt like a blade, twisting. You could feel the weight of his disappointment, the unspoken hurt laced into every syllable. It wasn’t fair. His gaze, searching and relentless, bore into you, and you felt a flush of heat rise to your face.

“I haven’t decided anything yet,” you replied carefully. “I’ve been weighing the pros and cons, that’s all.”

Eddie let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp enough to make your chest ache. “Nah, Fey. You decided the second he gave you the offer. Otherwise, why haven’t you signed the contract Robert sent you? Huh?”

The question came like a slap, and for a moment, you just stared at him, stunned. Blinking rapidly, you felt the sting of unshed tears. “I haven’t signed anything because I’m still figuring things out! Why would I sign something if I’m not sure yet?”

“How long has this been on the table?” he pressed, his tone sharp enough to cut. There was a challenge in his voice, a dare for you to lie. But you didn’t.

You sucked in a breath, the admission sticking in your throat. “Since Glastonbury,” you finally confessed, your voice barely audible.

Eddie’s laugh was humorless, his smile a mere shadow of something real. “Since fucking Glastonbury?” he repeated, and the hurt in his voice was unmistakable. “And you couldn’t find a single damn moment to tell me? Why the hell did you hide it, Fey?”

Your heart twisted painfully at the look in his eyes—an agonizing blend of betrayal and disbelief. “Because I knew you’d react like this!” you shot back, the words escaping before you could stop them.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m betraying you!”

Eddie’s hand shot out to point at your planner, his voice rising with every word.

“And keeping it from me isn’t betrayal?” he snapped. “Will Walsh, Fey. Will freaking Walsh.”

“I thought the problem was Freddie, not Will,” you countered, your own voice beginning to rise.

“It’s all the same!” Eddie shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his anger. “You’re leaving me for Will Walsh.”

The accusation sent a wave of frustration surging through you, and you rolled your eyes, the motion as sharp and deliberate as your words. “So this isn’t about when I chose to tell you, is it? It’s about me working for someone else.” Your voice trembled with the effort to keep your emotions in check, but there was no mistaking the bite behind your words. “See? I knew it. This is exactly why I said we needed to keep work and our relationship separate—to avoid this. And now, you’re being completely fucking unfair.”

“Unfair?” Eddie barked out a bitter laugh, the sound so cold it sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes burned with something darker now—something dangerous.

“Yes, unfair!” you shot back, your frustration spilling over. “You were the one who got drunk at that party and told me I deserved more than this job. So why is it, the moment I get an opportunity that matches my skills, you take it so personally?” You crossed your arms, a defiant gesture, as your voice rose in pitch and intensity. “What is it, Eddie? Do you actually want me here because you love me, or because you’re so used to me saving your ass you don’t know how to live without it?”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, Eddie just stared at you, his lips parted like he wanted to respond but couldn’t find the words. His silence only stoked the fire inside you.

“Fey, I’m warning you. Don’t start throwing accusations at me—”

“No, no. Don’t you dare turn this around on me,” you cut him off, your anger surging like a tidal wave. “You’re the one who started with the accusations. I get it, maybe I should’ve told you sooner, but your reaction is so completely over the top. I’m not fucking leaving you, Eddie! I promised I wouldn’t, and I’m not. I’m just changing jobs. Is that really so goddamn horrible?”

“Yeah, it is,” he shot back, his voice trembling with emotion. His hand gripped the back of a chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Will’s going solo. He’s gonna be neck-deep in backlash from his brother’s fans, and you think you’ll have time for a relationship? You’ll be launching your career just like he’s launching his.”

“And what?” you challenged, stepping closer. “I’m supposed to give up on my dreams because you’re scared we won’t spend enough time together? Your tour ends in a couple of months. We’ll make it work. We’ll adapt.”

Eddie started shaking his head before you even finished, his curls bouncing with the movement. His disbelief was almost palpable, and it was like you’d been stabbed.

“For fuck’s sake, Munson!” you burst out, throwing your hands in the air. “Do you even realize how happy it makes me to see you succeeding? So why the hell can’t I expect the same from you? I don’t want to walk behind you, Eddie. I want to walk beside you. Can’t you see that?”

For a moment, his gaze dropped to the floor, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but heavy, weighted with resignation. “You won’t be walking beside me, Fey. You’ll be walking away. You’re leaving.”

You let out a hollow, bitter laugh, the sound echoing in the small space. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—he wasn’t speaking as your boyfriend anymore. This was your boss talking now.

“I can train someone else,” you offered, though the words tasted sour on your tongue.

“Not in the middle of a world tour! Are you insane? Do you really think anyone could fill your fucking shoes?”

You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was hired because you couldn’t stay out of trouble. But since we landed in Europe, you’ve been focused. No incidents, no drama. You don’t need me, Eddie. Not anymore.”

He stared at you, and in that moment, the raw hurt in his eyes nearly undid you. “You always wanted to leave, didn’t you?” he said quietly, his voice shaking with barely contained emotion. “Admit it. You’ve had one foot out the door since the moment you realized your heart was involved.”

The accusation hit like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten as you fought back the tears welling in your eyes. “And what about you, Munson?” you shot back, your voice breaking. “You’re so scared of being abandoned that you can’t love me the way I deserve. You’re so wrapped up in your own feelings, you don’t even see mine. What am I to you, Eddie? Your safety net? Your little fairy, flitting around to make your life easier?”

“Fey…” His voice cracked, and you saw the tears in his eyes, but they weren’t sadness—they were fury, a storm you weren’t sure either of you could weather.

“Don’t call me that,” you whispered, stepping back as he reached for you. The distance felt unbearable, but you couldn’t let him close the gap—not this time.

“Don’t go, Fey,” he pleaded, his voice breaking.

Your chin trembled, and for a moment, you hated how fragile you felt under his gaze. “This was a mistake. We were never ready for this. You need me more than you love me, and I love you more than I need you.” Your fingers brushed over his as you took his hand from your face, the cool metal of his rings grounding you for a fleeting second. “I quit, Munson,” you said firmly. “And this... us... it’s over. We don’t know how to make this work, and if we keep trying, we’ll destroy each other.”

“You’re fucking running away, Feywild,” he accused, his voice raw with desperation.

You nodded, tears finally spilling over as your heart shattered. “Yeah. And you’re scared, Eddie. We’re both just doing what we have to to survive.”

[ecofear]

hi you're The rogue trader mutual to me so if it's not too much work could you tell me a bit about it :) i'm interested in trying it out and i did read the wikipedia article but i would like to hear something less formal

of course no pressure if you don't have time or energy for it

TAKES A DEEP BREATH

let me set up warhammer 40k a little bit.

this is a very rich with lore universe, it is full of things to consume and learn about, every warhammer 40k fan has their favourite things about it, and there's so many sub-communities based on these things. people who love the imperium, tech-priest fans, necron fans, all sorts, all in their little bubbles. it's fascinating! there's also multiple points in history people can fixate on! i know some people who only care about the emperor's sons (known as the primarchs) and the lorea and stories around them!

to give a very tldr rundown... warhammer 40k is a post apocalyptic world, long after humanity had left terra to explore the galaxy.

to start: people started to be born as psychic mutants, and that's how we got the first navigators, which allowed humanity to explore further than ever before, along with the creation of the warp-drive. this is when the imperium was first created. humanity thrived for a long time, but over time, psykers started to be born, think of them as humans who could use a form of magic. unfortunately, psykers are at risk of being possessed by daemons, or opening portals to allow daemons in, which caused the downfall of humanity.

and then, the emperor of humanity, started a great crusade, in simple terms, to save humanity. he formed the pact with mars' tech-priests to use their technology, and created the primarchs (his sons, which are just genetic clones of himself) as well as the space marine legions... thus the imperiums expansion began. and the start of the horus heresy... which is chronicled in like one of the longest book series ever... just consider it the imperium (humanity) waging war after war after war trying to expand and grow and save themselves, and losing, and winning, and dying, and... yeah. eventually this ends but - humanity stagnates, is probably the best way i can put it.

the game rogue trader is theorised to take place around 999.M41. this means it takes place in... warhammer 40,000! the horus heresy takes place in 30,000... but i think it's important just just set up that beginning part. humanity is fucked, lets put it this way. everything that happened has let humanity to be terrified of power. they cling to the emperor, cling to the past they've lost, much of their history, their knowledge, completely gone. but they are so afraid of things getting like they were, of someone gaining so much power like horus had, that they just.. can't allow themselves to advance again. to the point people who think about that or suggest it are called heretics and killed. to say the imperium isn't perfect as it is now is heresy - but without advancement.. humanity is going to die. they have stagnated and eventually they won't be able to continue - but they are so proud, they can't admit it, or see it.

warhammer 40k is a depressing series of watching humanity suffer, and not taking any chances to change it. they just keep trying to expand. to take over planets and systems. to control everything. they see every other alien species are wrong, villainous, antagonists, that must be put down. even pyskers are treated horribly, despite the fact that their own emperor they love so much, is a psyker.

in rogue trader, you play as a character chosen by the emperor to expand into systems much further out than the imperium has, lawless, dangerous... your job is to bring them under heel. to rule, absolutely. while also squabbling with other rogue traders in the same system who also want it - because personal power is just as important. rogue trader is a game where you literally don't deal with money mechanics because you have more wealth than you could possibly know. you have at least 25,000 people living on your ship, some who have never left it, generations of their families born upon your ship, with you as their almighty ruler.

it's a game where you can be the best ruler to your people you can be, either by following the imperium's law absolutely, or by actually doing the right thing - which is against the law, btw. you could even listen to the whispers of chaos in your ear, be a psyker who plays a little too closely to the edge, risking daemons and god knows what else. you are forced to make hard choices. you have weight on your shoulders that risks crushing you. are you going to lead your people to glory? are you going to protect them, and try to save them? are you going to lead them straight into the maw of a god who will consume them whole? rogue trader is a fun roleplaying game. warhammer 40k is a fun roleplaying tabletop game. being lawful good is being just another sheep in the imperium whos going to watch it sail to its death with a salute, being a bad character is actually wanting the best for people - for treating alien races with respect and not killing them on sight, and being evil is like becoming the chosen prophet of a god who wants to ascend you to their right hand like a bride...

and that's before we even consider the absolutely insane dynamics with your companions. your senechal who is so deathly loyal to you he will focus you into the maws of chaos? your psyker diviner who just wants to be loved and appreciated - and how terribly you can twist her in this desire? a sister of battle who finds a sick gratification in killing - but she's killing for her god, so it's completely just, of course. how about a tech-priest who borders on the heretical with such a tight rope that pushing him over the edge is too easy - as if he was already there to begin with? or a space marine - a wolf - who is exactly like what you'd expect a space marine to be. we even have some hidden companions... one of which who is so fascinating to me, a priest, a prophet, a chaos space marine....

and how genuinely interesting the romances are. do you want a classic period drama romance where you woo a noble lady who blushes if you hold her hand and thinks kissing it is too forward? do you want to melt the ice man who has so much trauma and you swear you can fix him? do you wanna seduce a woman by gifting her an entire planet while she broadcasts your sex across your entire ship so all 25,000+ people hear it? do you want to slaughter your own people for sexual gratification and torture your loyal subjects while engaging in bdsm with an alien who can be your dom or your sub but god forbid you try to switch - which also has an ownership branding scene? how about a 'me and you against the world' soulmates type romance with an alien who sees you as a primative beast but your desire to understand her and her people softens her to you - and the furthest this romance can ever go is holding hands within your minds as you meditate together? or how about a death cult assassin whos been slaughtering your enemies who hide upon your ship right under your nose who very much wants to become your right hand like a devoted paladin-assassin of blood and murder?

ok i've typed so much i've made my arms sore but i genuinely could go on if not for this limitation..... i love rogue trader. i love it. i love it so much. i get so sad when i see roleplaying game enjoyers having no interest in picking it up. it's life changing. it's everything. it's a roleplaying game where you are beautifully rewarded for roleplaying. there's so much freedom. it's delicious to be evil, to manipulate and twist people to chaos. its maddening to try and follow the right path and be punished for it. and its gratifying to follow the emperors will.

[alhaithamcore]

congratulations to genshin impact for being the only game to have alhaitham and kaveh !! 🫶💚

[enruiinas]

On the other side of the silence that followed, there lay a future he’d never imagined for himself. An entire life, chaotic and unpredictable as things could only be between two souls so wildly, unanticipatedly perfect for one another, that Law had not even known he’d wanted until the first time he’d found himself tangled up with the woman before him - both metaphorically and in the very literal sense of the word, as not until he’d fallen asleep holding her had it occurred to him he might just like to do that forever.

Nami had blown into his life that summer like a whirlwind, and just as Law had realized how badly he’d longed to keep her there, she had stolen those dreams away from him. Dangled that impossible future on a string with five simple words before him - I think I love you -, only to take them back and vanish with it as quickly as she’d enamored him.

Now here she stood before him again, holding on her tongue the means to grant him everything he was terrified of wanting or to break that something inside of him a second time, and if Law had any doubt about his own feelings for the ginger, they vanished as he awaited her answer. There was only one reason in the world he’d ever give another the means of shattering him so thoroughly as he had given her with that quiet plea. One thing in the world that could leave him hanging so eagerly on the edge of someone's silence, everything but the pulse in his ears ceasing to exist as he looked at her and waited for the words he'd so desperately craved in her soft cadence -

He loved her. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. And he was so sure that she must feel the same- and yet… Nami’s disappearance had left him far too scarred to make that mistake a second time. He needed to hear it - needed her to hear her say it a second time, to say it and be sure and not just simply think that she might.

Some part of him knew that she felt the same. Even when Nami had not, he had always known - on some level - that she must love him. But to hear her say it a second time…

Golden eyes strayed only briefly to follow their hands to where she placed them on her stomach, but he made no more move to pull away from her. He simply threaded his fingers through her and returned his gaze to Nami’s face, just in time to watch chestnut orbs well up with tears and to lean into Nami’s touch as she reached up to trail soft fingers along his jawline.

And then she said it the second time - I love you. I love you. I love you. - and it was everything he’d ever hoped for: forgotten water, threatening tears, and the unexpected life growing beneath his palm aside. He wouldn’t change anything it had taken to bring them here, to this moment- so long as it had led to this.

It was perfect. She was perfect- and the words had barely left her lips before his found themselves brushing against them. “I love you,” he echoed back in a whisper. “All of you,” he went on. “This-“

Voice trailing off, Law held her stare pointedly before returning it to where his hand lay cradled on the curve of her stomach. A hand he now looked down to watch as he traced it thoughtfully along the swell of the growing bump she held it to.

“-included. I’m glad you’re here now, Nami. Both of you. I missed you,” he concluded - and then pulled her firmly against him, kissing her once more like a man with no intention of watching a movie afterward.

‎‏‏‎ Every second that passed by had Nami's heartbeat pounding harder in her ears. At some point in her life the words I love you must have slipped past her lips. She had to have been little, too little to fully comprehend the weight of such words as she wrapped her arms around her two favorite people and called out with childlike wonderment that she loved them. Those memories were long gone, replaced with a misunderstanding that love could only be associated with loss. It's why not once in the last thirteen years had Nami uttered the words to even her sister.

Nojiko knew. She understood. They didn't say words like that, but they knew they loved each other. Both women showed it in other ways- with a glance, through acts of service, by screaming at each other- Sisters were special. Nojiko was special. It's why no need to state it out loud was never needed- But Law was special too- And he deserved to hear that she didn't just think her feelings for him were beyond that of a simple summer romance.

Law needed to know, whether he realized it or not. He needed to know that she loved him so wholly and completely. And as much as it pained her to watch him draw away from her, it was the light that returned to those golden eyes that kept her going. He loved her too, she knew it. Just as before, she'd felt his love pour through every brush of her skin and movement against her lips.

She loved him. And he loved her.

“I've never been so sure of anything in my life.” A beat. A breath. A bat of long lashes closed and re-opened to return her chestnut orbs to his. “If anything this-”

Reaching around, she grasped one of his hands to press to the swell of her stomach. '-Kept me from saying it far longer than I should have. I didn't want you to think I'm only here for this.”

Big, brown eyes swam with tears that threatened to spill over the brim and onto long bottom lashes. “I couldn't be away from you another second- I was scared, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still afraid… but I'm no longer afraid to love you.”

Her own hand reached for his face, to cup his strong jaw and run through thick sideburns. A single droplet caught on lashes as she choked out the words a second time. “I've never said that to anyone, but I'm saying it to you- I love you.“