#look I have been burdened with this kind of thing forever but it IS kind of a bummer that it continues to happen weh

[thewardenisonthecase]

Four Years

Alistair x F!Cousland

Read on AO3

Summary: Alistair writes a letter to his love.

A/N: this is based on the @loveofdragonage prompt of A Lifetime of Devotion.

word count: 803

Today marked four years since Anneliese had gone out to look for a cure. 

“I won’t be long gone.” She had told him. “Besides, I’ll keep in touch.” 

It had been months since the last time he heard of her. The crown on Alistair’s head was heavier than ever. He had managed for this long without her but for much more would he have to suffer? 

Eamon had told him he needed to move on and accept that Anneliese had been lost. Alistair refused. He knew his wife well - she could not be dead. 

And even if she was, he would not turn on his vows. Years before, when they were young and with an Archdemon to defeat, he told her that she was the first and only woman he would lay with, if it depended on him. 

Alistair prayed more than he did when he lived in the Chantry. He’d beg for the Maker to keep her safe, for her to return to his side. He did not think the Maker was listening to him, however. 

When day’s like today happened, when he was feeling particularly mellow, Alistair would write letters. He did not know where Anneliese was and thus, he could not send them to her, but they helped alleviate his feelings. 

Sitting down, he began to write on a piece of paper. 

“It’s been four years since you’ve left and I keep thinking about the day we met. 

Duncan had sent me a letter in advance about you, the recruit from Highever. He hadn’t said much, and by the time the two of you arrived, I’d forgotten most of it. 

‘Nothing like a Blight to bring people together’ was the first thing I ever said to you. You had a haunted expression on your face, and yet, I saw a small smirk on your face and you told me you understood. No one had ever liked my jokes before you. 

I didn’t know then how much you would mean to me. I never expected to fall in love, much less to have that reciprocated. 

There was a moment when I thought you hated me. After all, with the way I lashed out after Connor’s death, I wouldn’t blame you if you did not care for me again. But then you returned my mother’s locket to me and I wondered how could you show kindness to someone who had just said the most awful things to you? 

I felt guilty. You had lost your family, your home and Ostagar, and there I was, adding to that burden - either by crying about Duncan or by questioning your decisions, even when I was the one who put you in that position. 

I said that then and I’ll say it again now: I thought I was fooling myself. How could someone like you - strong, charming, beautiful and smart - fall for a poor sucker like me? And yet, despite it being the worst time ever, you loved me back. 

The face you made when I gave you that rose…I won’t forget it. Just as I’ll never forget your smile and laughter when I made a stupid joke. Or how incredibly hot you looked whenever you were on the battlefield. Or the smell of your hair, or the feel of your hands against my skin. 

I’ll never forget the vows we made to each other on our wedding day. How long has it been since then? Ten years? Not a day has gone by where you were not on my mind. 

It’s been four years, Anneliese. I don’t know how your search fares, but please, come back home. 

You were always a fighter. If someone told you there was no other way, you would find one. You always found a way for us to live. But I have made my peace. 

We won’t get forever, my love. Such is the plight of the Wardens. 

We won’t grow old. We are beyond children at this rate. Perhaps one day we’ll have to make our way to the Deep Roads. But I can bear all that as long as I have you at my side. 

Please. Anneliese. I beg of you. Come back to me” 

A few tears had stained the words on the paper. He wiped his face with a handkerchief - the one she had embroidered with a rose. Silently, he folded the letter and placed it on top of the pile with all the other unsent letters and he made himself ready to face the day. 

Anneliese would not want him to give up hope. She especially would not want to stop living because of her. 

‘If she comes back and sees this country in a mess, she’ll feed me to the darkspawn’ Alistair thought and then shook his head. 

When. 

When she comes back. 

[bugeyedfreaks]

I’ll quit talking about PPG fanfic after today, but I decided to actually check the amount of fics that still existed if I ran filters on AO3, because I don’t normally check the numbers when I do filter and I was curious.

Here’s the number of fics in total in the PPG section:

Here’s the number of fics when I remove crossovers and the RRB pairing and characters entirely:

Then if you add the RRB back in and search for fanfics that also include the “humor” tag you get this result:

And if you search for anything that includes the “comedy” tag… it’s worse!

I also tried various combos of action and adventure and this was the best result I got from that:

Anyway, I understand that people would like to write a dramatic fanfic every now and then. I get it. Totally. No hate about that kind of thing. I also get that you don’t necessarily have to add those tags if your fic includes those things. Not everyone categorizes everything accurately and that’s fine! But sometimes, looking at results like this, I wonder if I watch the same show as everyone else… 😩

[flwrkid14]

Tim and Danny: Love, Trust, and the Weight of Protection

part 1

Danny knows what it's like to be hunted.

It’s been his reality for as long as he can remember—forever glancing over his shoulder, never truly at ease. Between vengeful ghosts, government agents, and countless other dangers, his survival has depended solely on his instincts, his powers, and the fickleness of luck. He has his friends—two best friends and a sister who would drop everything to stand by him, who he knows would always have his back. But the weight of that reliance feels heavy, a burden he can't quite shake.

Trusting others, truly leaning on them, has always felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford. He wants to feel safe, to let someone else take some of the weight, but the thought of putting them in danger because of him? That’s a risk he can't bring himself to take.

Then he meets Tim Drake.

At first, Tim’s protectiveness doesn’t faze him. It’s Gotham. You don’t date a Wayne-adjacent vigilante and expect anything less than a little paranoia. Danny’s been through worse. A tracker on his phone? Standard. Tim pulling files on his professors? Honestly, kind of funny.

But then, Danny finds out how deep it goes.

He stumbles upon a folder on Tim’s desk—his name printed neatly on the tab. Inside? Background checks on his classmates, neighbors and friends. Surveillance reports. A detailed map of his daily routine. Heart rate data. Sleeping patterns. Eating habits. There’s even a file on Phantom.

For a moment, Danny froze.

This should terrify him—it used to. Being watched, tracked for his every move, reminded him too much of those who hunted him, who’d wanted to tear him apart and dissect him like a lab rat. His first instinct was always to run.

But at that moment? He felt... safe. The notes in the margins weren’t cold or clinical like the ones his parents would have written. No, instead, they were worried. Make sure he’s eating enough. Possible threat? Keep an eye on this one. Look for ectoplasmic spikes—could mean trouble.

This wasn’t someone trying to control him. This was someone trying to protect him.

Tim’s not like the people who hunted him in Amity Park. There’s no malice in what he does. No intent to control or hurt. It’s all fear. Love, even. Danny can see it in Tim’s eyes when he stammers through an explanation, bracing himself for anger or rejection.

He’s scared Danny will leave.

And that’s what gets Danny.

No one has ever cared for him like this, no one willing to go through such lengths just to ensure his safety. Yeah, it’s intense, maybe unhealthy, even by the standards of a world that isn’t known for its normalcy. Danny knows Sam, Tucker, and Jazz would do the same—they’ve all put their lives on the line for him before, and he loves them for it. But Tim is different.

Tim is strong enough to face the dangers of Danny’s world and carry the weight of his burdens without hesitation. It’s something Danny could never ask his friends to do—not because they wouldn’t, but because they have their own lives, their own paths. They would drop everything for him, just as Tim would, but Tim does it with the resolve of a vigilante, already living a life where protecting others is his duty. This is someone who understands the risks, who’s already made those sacrifices, and still chooses to say, “I will protect you, no matter the cost.”

So, he smiles. He kisses Tim’s cheek. And he asks, “Can I put a tracker on you too?”

The way Tim’s eyes light up? Yeah, Danny thinks. This is love.

-----------------

The batfamily doesn’t get it.

They corner Danny one day, all serious expressions and careful words.

“Danny, we’re worried,” Dick starts, voice soft. “About Tim?” Danny tilts his head. “About both of you,” Steph says. “This… surveillance thing. It’s not normal.”

Danny shrugs. “Neither am I.”

They might understand—on some level. They’d lived through their own kind of danger, faced their own threats. But for Danny, it was different. They didn’t grow up being hunted, didn’t spend years hiding from people who wanted to tear them apart just for existing. For him, trusting the wrong person wasn’t just a risk; it was a matter of life and death.

Tim’s methods might be extreme, but Danny sees the intent behind them. It’s not control. It’s care. Tim watches his back because he knows what it’s like to lose people. Danny lets him because he knows what it’s like to be alone.

“Tim’s the first person who’s made me feel safe,” Danny tells them, voice steady. “You see obsession. I see someone who cares enough to watch my back.”

They don’t know what to say to that.

-----------------

Their relationship isn’t conventional. But in a city like Gotham, love isn’t always soft and simple. Sometimes, it’s vigilance. Sometimes, it’s knowing someone’s tracking your heartbeat because they’d die if it ever stopped.

Tim watches over Danny. Danny watches over Tim. It’s not about control—it’s about trust. About knowing that, no matter what, someone’s got your back.

The bats worry. They whisper about boundaries, red flags and healthy relationships.

Danny doesn’t listen. He knows what he’s got.

In a world where ghosts and vigilantes collide, where danger lurks in every shadow, Danny’s finally found someone who won’t let him face it alone.

And that? That’s everything.

[steddielations]

Years after Eddie moves out and Wayne retires, Eddie comes by everyday to help around the house. Wayne doesn’t like the fuss, he won’t be a burden, but the company is nice. The new place isn't as homey as the trailer, his memory's fuzzy about why he ever moved.

One day, Eddie shows up with the Harrington boy of all people. Not a boy anymore, a man fully grown but Wayne remembers him driving that shiny Beamer around Hawkins like yesterday. Eddie says they're old pals, but Wayne can't recall Steve ever coming around with any of Eddie's friends.

It's an odd pair, but Steve’s good company. He chats about baseball, doesn't mind when Wayne mixes up last night's scores with a game 20 years ago. Then throughout the day, Wayne catches Steve giving Eddie the kind of looks and touches that make it clear what kind of pals they are, or at least what kind Steve wants them to be.

It warms Wayne's heart to see. He’s not gonna be around forever, and he always wanted Eddie to settle down with someone. It's hard for men like Eddie, for men like them, but he doesn't want that to stop Eddie from having the chance. So that night before they go, when Wayne's getting squared away in bed, he whispers to Eddie, "Steve's a good one, son. If you ever get ahold of him, don't you let him go."

Eddie just grins, almost something sad about it, and says, "Okay, old man. I'll keep him. I promise." The same thing he always says, every time this happens, but Wayne doesn't know that.

Every day is different, but sometimes Wayne remembers Eddie and Steve have been together for a decade. Sometimes he remembers the small backyard wedding, laughs about how it rained and Eddie slipped in the mud. Sometimes he remembers that he came to live with them when the dementia got worse.

But on days when it's all brand new, when he meets Steve for the first time again, he always knows that he's the right one for Eddie. So Eddie’s gonna listen and hang onto Steve with everything he’s got.

[marathedemonoverlord]

Ahhh! Fam I KNEW I liked you for some reason my Dumb Ass can't stand Lilith either

Though for me it feels kind of icky cause when I first played the impression I got was she was their family/sister and since they look at Lilith like that and reference how you remind them of her and then some of them (Lucifer) want to bone the shit out of you- It just....

Like...

.... If you have a thing for your sister just say so- I promise I ain't mad just mildly disappointed HAH!

why do you hate lilith?

Imagine you’re dating someone you plan to stick with forever. Whether you marry and have kids or not is up to you... Now imagine they won’t... stop... talking... about their ex? All the good and bad stuff that came with their ex? That’s the main reason why, though there are more.

I’m sick of the talk of Lilith. Every time they bring lilith up, its in reference to something I said or did. like i get it, please stfu

i know lilith never dated any of the boys or anything, she was just like a little sister to them. but like STILL. i already have a gender crisis (lmao dsfjksngfd) i dont need a friggen identity criss bc they keep comparing me to ol dumb bitch lilith

also i can dodge arrows. lilith couldnt. we are not the same, smfh

[verxca]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #01 ]

[ j. todd ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which you and jason are relaxing one cold evening, and you start to get emotional over his faded childhood memories.

“Man, look at me back then. So young n’ naive. Thought I could save the world one punch at a time." Jason remarks, shifting slightly on the red leather couch you two were seated on. One of this arms was draped over your shoulder in a protective manner, leaning in closer after every flip.

The photo book you held diligently in hand was very old, containing numerous sheets. The laminated paper itself held a number of memories from the past, in fact all of Jason in his younger years. Robin, Boy Wonder— The countless names he was given reflected the bright white smile he ported in almost every snapshot.

You turn to the next page, ever so slightly relaxing your head onto your lover’s shoulder. “Hah- Look at that one.” His calloused hand reaches forward, pointing at another prime moment of him in his costume, smiling brightly with his signature black mask on, striking a funny pose for the camera. On Jason’s side of things, all of the memories were of course bound to come back; his time as Robin - the training, the adventures, the pain. He lets out low chuckle, leaning towards the side to press a soft kiss onto your temple.

You softly traced your thumb over the photo; a moment captured forever in time, still initiating a reaction in his peers after all these years. Jay just looked so… innocent. You couldn’t even put the sentiment into words— ‘nostalgia’ would be too generous. It was more of an appreciation - a longing.

You loved him now, which meant that you loved all of him. Present, future, and even past.

It wasn’t just the sympathy you held, but also the mere knowledge about what happend in the years to come which fueled this depressing feeling. His death, of course… what kind of a monster would kill somebody as kind as this? A young boy full of hopes and dreams?

Jason was reluctant to tell you his murder’s name. He had never let it slip, and probably wouldn’t in the following months to come for the record. It was a burden too heavy to carry, and you understood that. A strong gust of cold winter snow hit the window from behind, a subtle reminder of the comfort currently held inside your place.

Sniffling, you gently grab onto the sheet, turning the page once more. Another colourful photo appeared; Jason on his 13th birthday, in the batcave standing next to the big man himself. “Babe- Are you…?”

A tear struck the paper, and it was only then that you realized you’d been crying.

Jason’s heart just shattered as a soft cry audibly escaped your lips, quickly prompting him to nuzzle impossibly close to plant another kiss onto your head. He let go of the book with his other hand, instead placing it on your knee in a comforting manner.

“Oh- Hon’…”

Embarrassed, you bring a hand up to cover your mouth and part of your nose. You didn’t cry too often— In fact, you were usually the one here to support Jay when he was upset, injured, or having another horrid nightmare. It was even odd for him to see you break down like this, all over some family photos that he’d volunteered to show you… The mere realization made his heart swell with love and slight regret.

You hiccup on your own breath, looking back down at the collage now held with one hand. “You- Y’were just so small- ” You manage to croak out, sniffling with a now quivering lip. “Yeah, I was a scrawny little shit back then. He worked me hard, but it made me who I am today." Jason attempted to lighten the mood, his advance quickly reciprocated by a recognizing smile and a shy nod on your part.

You glance over at the image once more; his eyes, his hair, that god forsaken smile… It just made you break even more, and it didn’t take Jason long to realize. He leaned forward, taking the photo album from your hand to close and to gently place on the counter.

“M’ sorry, babe- I-” You adjust your position as he leans back down, still wiping your tears with slightly shaky hands, choking on your own breath every time another small cry left your lips. Jason just paused for a moment, admiring you. His girlfriend. Crying over his own childhood photos. Now, this— this was the type of love and intimacy he’d always been craving for.

Jason leans forward, capturing your body in a tight embrace. On instinct you move up to his lap, wrapping your arms loosely around the back of his neck.

“Y’know, as much as I love that version of me, I wouldn't trade who I am now for anything. Because it led me to you."

You nod into him, showing you were listening, and he kisses your hair. The words - the photos - they may all have been hard to hear and see, but it was all in the grand a testimony to your love. That much was clear to the both of you now.

“I love you, Jay.”

“I love you too. More than’ anything.”

He murmurs in response, pressing another needed kiss to your forehead before burying his head back into your hair, inhaling the comforting and familiar scent. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to love; with his past, and his many walls. But Jason realized now that you saw him, all of him, and you still chose to love him anyway. It was both terrifying and beautiful.

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : hurt / comfort, crying reader, awkward logan, age gap, mentions of jean + scott, perspective shifts, sunshine x grumpy, implied mutant!reader wc : 1.4k

it’s late afternoon, and the sky is streaked with shades of orange and pink. you’re sitting on a bench in the park, your usual radiant energy noticeably dimmed. your cheeks and nose are flushed, and your soft sniffles seem to almost echo around. the gentle rustling of leaves and distant chatter of passersby fills the air, but you seem to be lost in your own thoughts.

you’ve had a silly little crush on logan for a long time. it’s so stupid really. it started when you moved into xavier’s school for gifted youngsters as a teacher. you were only a few years older than some of the students, so to be in such a position felt like an honour. logan showed you around right at the start. he wasn’t the kindest, nor the most talkative, but he was by far your favourite. the vanilla - pine - woody musk that emanated off of him had you starry eyed from the beginning. you could tell very quickly that logan wasn’t an extroverted person, but he still cared for the people around him. you saw it in the small gestures like how he restocked cans of storm’s favourite soda and how he made sure that charles always woke up to a mug of tea. how you craved the same kind of attention from him.

but he’s so much older than you, and you suspect he still only has eyes for jean grey, even though she’s been gone a long time. in desperation, you’ve even attempted to emulate her, getting quieter around logan and trying to seem calmer in general. it didn’t work. in fact it did the opposite, he seems even more distanced from you. you’ve invited him round for beers or to watch a new movie you heard him talking to scott about, but he declined all of your offers time and time again. the next day, you overheard him ask scott if he wanted to come round and watch the same movie at his place. god, you’ve never felt so humiliated in your life. he must have a problem with you, but you could never put your finger on why.

you seem to have tried everything - bright smiles, thoughtful gestures, and endless attempts to joke around with him. you’d always believed that if you just kept at it, eventually, logan would see how much you cared for him. but lately, it feels as if you’d been trying too hard, pushing too much, and getting nowhere. your heart feels heavy, burdened with the unspoken fear that maybe you’re just annoying him. 

tears begin to well up in your eyes as you recall all the times he’s brushed you off or grumbled at your attempts to get close. you knows he’s not one for affection, but you can’t help wondering if he might never return your feelings. you’re probably just being stupid, thinking that you could melt his cold exterior. a single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away, hoping no one would notice.

but he doesn’t hate you. he couldn’t hate such a sweet thing like you. he’s noticed how you seem overly affectionate in general, but more reserved with him. so has scott. scott seemed to think it was because you had a crush on him and were trying to impress him. 

“c’mon logan! you must’ve seen the way she looks at you!” “i have no idea what you’re talking about summers.”

he’d mentioned it over beers back when the thought hadn’t even occurred to logan. a woman like you could never like a man like him. he was always under the impression that it was a one-sided crush, that he was forever destined to be alone. you were fully aware of the things he’d done in his couple hundred years of life. you were much too good for him :( too cheerful and smiley for a grumpy old man. 

logan spots you from a distance, your usually happy presence now strangely subdued. he’s used to you being the one to approach him, always with a smile and some kind of cheerful comment. but today, you seem… small. vulnerable, even :(

he’s about to walk away, dismissing it as another one of those feelings he doesn’t want to deal with, but something stops him. maybe it’s the way your shoulders are hunched, or the way you keep wiping at your face. are you crying? the thought unsettles him more than he’d like to admit. he doesn’t do well with emotions - especially not other people’s. but for some strange reason, the idea of you being upset tugs at something deep within him.

steeling himself, he walks over and sits beside you, keeping a respectful distance. you don't notice him at first, too lost in your own thoughts.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice gruff but not unkind. it’s a simple question, but it takes all his willpower to ask it.

you startle at his voice, quickly wiping your eyes. “nothing. i’m fine,” you say, forcing a watery smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. how embarrassing. he already hates you and now he has to see you cry too? you feel terrible for him, and for yourself. 

logan frowns. he’s not very good at this, but even he can tell that something’s off. “doesn’t look like nothing,” he mutters, trying to soften his usual harsh tone.

you glance up at him, surprised by the concern in his voice. it’s rare for him to ask you anything, let alone how you’re feeling. for a moment, you consider telling him everything. but then you hesitate. what if he’s just being silly? what if he doesn’t really care? as if he can see into your mind, he softly places a hand on your shoulder and whispers, “there is nothing you could say that would make me stop caring.”

you felt the burning of your waterline filling up again as soon as the words left the tip of his tongue. 

“it’s so stupid,” you finally admit, your voice trembling slightly. “i just… i feel like I’m always the one trying, you know? like i’m annoying everyone all the time. and maybe i am. i don’t wanna be a bother, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like nobody cares at all.”

you look away, embarrassed by your own vulnerability. the silence between you two  is heavy, and you wonder if you’ve made everything even worse by opening up to him.

logan feels like he’s been punched in the gut. even with his limited emotional range, he can assume you’re mostly talking about him. everybody else is quick to reciprocate your attention. everyday he feels like you’re curled up with someone new. he wishes it could be him. he’s never been good with words, especially not the ones that matter, but he never in a million years meant to contribute to you feeling like this. he’s spent so long building walls around himself that he didn’t realise how much they’ve been hurting you.

“y/n…” he starts, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m not… very good at this. at any of this. i’ve been alone for a very long time, and i guess… i don’t know how to show you that i care. but i do. much more than you know.”

he hesitates, searching for the right words. “you’re not a bother. you never have been, not to me, not to anyone. i just… it’s hard for me to open up. but that doesn’t mean i don’t… that i don’t appreciate you. i do. a lot.”

it’s not the most perfect confession, but it’s honest. he hopes it’s enough.

you turn to him, your eyes wide with surprise. you can see the sincerity in his expression, the awkwardness of a man trying to navigate unfamiliar territory. it’s more than you would ever expect to hear from him, and your heart swells with an unknown feeling.

you reach out, gently placing your hand on top of his. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth. “that means more to me than you know.”

logan stiffens at the contact but doesn’t pull away. instead, he squeezes your hand awkwardly, a silent promise that he’s going to try. it’s a small gesture, but to you, it’s everything.

[avocado-writing]

Hello! Might I ask for the lovely bg3 guys hearing tav say they're love them in the middle of an argument please? Take your time!

Astarion

Who knows what you're arguing about. It could be something sincere (his ascention) or something inane (he took your soap without asking, again) but it still slips out all the same:

"You're lucky I love you, or I'd be really angry."

The two of you stop and stare at each other for a moment, before you let out a strangled little sound and exit the conversation.

Astarion is baffled. He wasn't expecting that. Except, he sort of was? He's been trying to get you to fall for him after all, so why does it feel so... nice to hear you say it? And why does he feel so guilty?

The two of you move on like nothing's happened for a while, the tension bubbling between the two of you, until eventually he can't take it any more.

The two of you are on watch one night and he blurts out, "I love you too."

You stare at him for a long moment, he's never felt smaller. "Are you being serious?" "Yes. I am."

You look so relieved. He brings you into his arms and the two of you stay embraced for the rest of the night.

Gale

It's like you're arguing about the bomb inside him.

He's arguing it's the best solution to your problems, you're telling him that he needs to care about himself more. You're getting so frustrated that tears are starting to sting hot in your eyes.

"I wish you loved yourself like I love you, Gale."

Ah, you didn't mean to let that slip out. The two of you let the quiet sink in. You go to move away, his silence crushing, but he reaches out to grab you - not hard, but enough so that you stay.

"You love me?"

Tears come, inevitably.

"Of course I love you, Gale, you utter fool."

You can see he wants to argue about that but for once just takes the insult, pulling you into his arms so tightly you feel like he'll keep you there forever. Yes, he is a fool for not seeing it earlier.

"I love you too. You are the most precious thing in my life. I'm sorry for worrying you... and you're right, of course. You're always right."

You sleep in his arms that evening, and the Netherese Orb is never mentioned again.

Wyll

Oh, Wyll. Why would you be arguing with this sweet, kind man?

Maybe you're begging him to try and get out of his contract with Mizora, take back hold of his own life again. He's arguing about duty, what he owes to Baldur's Gate.

"I wish you'd think for once about what you owe to me, Wyll. To yourself! I love you!"

His mouth falls open, he's flabbergasted. When you try and escape he doesn't let you, following you into the forest where you run, calling your name.

Eventually you slow down enough for him to catch you and bring you in for a sweet kiss, then press his forehead against yours.

"I love you too. Of course I love you. I hate that I ever made you feel anything less than my absolute priority. You are always the first in my heart."

The two of you sit down and have a long, healthy conversation about talking things out as a couple. Making decisions together. At the end of if you come out stronger, united as a team.

Halsin

Halsin is probably the most laid-back on this list, it's hard to think of something you'd really argue about.

It comes down to this: you aren't taking care of yourself enough. Not eating properly, sleeping properly, sharing your burdens. You are trying to shoulder it all.

He keeps telling you that you need to be kinder to yourself - you keep snapping that he isn't in charge, he doesn't know what it's like. He tells you he cares about you too much to see you in pain.

You're angry at first - who is he to tell you what to do - and then you're just sad; burying your face in his chest.

"I love you too much to argue with you, Halsin," you whisper, and his heart melts.

"I love you too, my heart. Let me take care of you."

He cooks you dinner and makes sure you eat it all, draws you a bath and helps you wash. His fingers are magic. He lays down with you on your bedroll and lets his body warm yours, keeping you tight against him, only drifting off himself when he is sure you are sound asleep.

[aventurineswife]

Dear amazing author (you really are! I and my friend have always feast 💜)

If I may request something - may I please request the hugs and assurance, that everything would be alright? For Aventurine, Argenti, general Jing Yuan, Boothill, DHIL / Dan Heng (you may add more, if you want, I'd gladly read it all!)

Not only I, but also my friend has bad period of time... These last two months mainly... :') college in the last year is not funny, ngl...

Thank you sincerely 💜

(also Toki, surprise ;D no matter what would happen, we are strong introverts forever 💜🤭)

We Mend as We Go

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Dan Heng IL x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Vulnerability, Reassurance, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Introspection, Found Family, Slow Burn (implied), Mutual Support.

Warnings: Mentions of Trauma, Burdens of Leadership, Existential Doubt, References to Vengeance and Loss, Themes of Loneliness and Emotional Isolation, Mentions of Past Violence (in Boothill and Dan Heng's parts).

A/N: 😭😭STAWWPPP!! Y'ALL ARE TOO NICE 🧍‍♀️😔, ALSO I can relate with college... It's never fun but neither was school (for me at least) :') enjoy this! ;)

The moon hung high over the city, casting a soft, silvery glow across the balcony where Aventurine stood, his sharp eyes fixed on the distant horizon. Despite his outwardly confident demeanor, there was a deep unease within him tonight, a rare crack in his carefully crafted facade.

You approached him quietly, your footsteps soft on the stone. He didn't turn to look at you, but the subtle shift in his posture told you that he knew you were there. You stopped beside him, taking in the view, before gently reaching out and placing your hand on his shoulder.

Aventurine’s smile was as enigmatic as always, but his eyes—held a flicker of something else: vulnerability. It was fleeting, hidden just beneath the surface, but you had learned to read him, to see past the games and the charming mask.

"Everything’s a gamble, isn't it?" he mused, his voice light, but with an underlying tension. "No matter how many victories I've had, there's always that nagging feeling... What if it all crumbles?"

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a tender embrace. He froze at first, caught off guard by the warmth of your presence, before he slowly relaxed, a soft breath escaping his lips.

"Then we'll rebuild it together," you whispered, your voice calm, filled with assurance. "You’re not alone in this. Whatever happens, we’ll face it."

Aventurine stood still for a moment, his heart pounding with an unfamiliar comfort, before he allowed himself to lean into the hug. His arms hesitantly wrapped around you, the gesture more vulnerable than anything he had ever shown.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice softer than usual. "You make the gamble seem worth it."

The night was quiet, the stars shining brightly above the peaceful valley where Argenti had paused in his travels. The weight of his armor felt heavier than usual tonight, as if the burden of his sacred duty pressed down upon him more than ever. He had been wandering for so long, always alone, always with the call of duty at his side. Yet, tonight, there was a crack in the armor of his conviction—a moment of doubt.

You found him sitting on a rock, staring at the night sky with a distant expression, as though lost in thought. Without a word, you sat beside him, the silence between you both comfortable in its familiarity. You didn’t need to ask what was troubling him; you could feel it emanating from him like an unseen weight.

After a few moments, Argenti spoke, his voice quieter than usual, filled with the kind of uncertainty he rarely allowed himself.

"Do you ever wonder if I’m doing the right thing?" he asked, his eyes reflecting the stars above. "I’ve faced so much... I’ve fought countless battles, restored cities, but... is it enough? Am I truly bringing beauty to the world?"

You reached out, gently resting your hand on his, offering him the comfort he often denied himself. Argenti looked at you, his sharp gaze softening as he met your eyes.

"You’re bringing beauty with every step you take," you replied, your voice unwavering. "It’s not about the battles or the victories. It’s about the light you share, the way you inspire others. You don’t have to carry the world alone."

Argenti’s shoulders relaxed, the tension that had built up slowly dissipating as he leaned into your embrace. His armor was cold against your skin, but the warmth between you was enough to melt the doubt away, if only for a moment.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. "It’s a lonely path, but with you, it feels less so."

The evening was calm on the Xianzhou Luofu, a rare stillness settling over the grand halls and corridors. Jing Yuan had long since finished his duties for the day, but the weight of centuries seemed to linger in the quiet moments, especially as he found himself gazing at the stars from his study. His eyes, sharp and calculating, softened as he thought about the future, the past, and the delicate balance he maintained as the General.

You entered the room quietly, approaching him from behind. Jing Yuan didn’t turn, but the slight shift of his posture told you he was aware of your presence. You stepped closer, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, the touch grounding him in the present.

"Jing Yuan," you said softly, "everything will be alright."

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that seemed to carry the weight of both amusement and something more. "You say that, but you know how fragile peace can be," he remarked, his voice soft with the wisdom of ages. "How long can it last?"

You knelt beside him, your presence a reminder that he was not alone in his struggles. You placed a hand over his, your fingers intertwined with his, and offered him a comforting smile.

"You’ve kept the peace for so long," you said. "You’ve already proven that you can handle whatever comes. But it’s alright to lean on others too. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself."

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened as he looked at you, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. "And will you be here... when the burden feels too much?"

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, offering the kind of reassurance only love and time could bring. Jing Yuan, for all his wisdom and strength, leaned into your embrace, a sigh escaping his lips. He had known countless battles and victories, but in this moment, it was the peace of your presence that soothed him.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. "With you, I know everything will be alright."

The cold winds of the galaxy howled through the dim-lit room, the hum of the ship's engine the only sound breaking the silence. Boothill sat by the window, his mechanical hand tracing the outlines of the distant stars. His white hair framed his face, the black streaks almost seeming to shimmer in the faint light. His sharp teeth were barely visible, lips tight, eyes focused on something far beyond the stars—something far beyond the pain he’d been through.

You entered the room quietly, your footsteps soft against the metal floor. You had always known when Boothill needed space, but tonight, something about him seemed different—more distant, like the weight of his past was pulling him under. The bounty on his head grew heavier by the day, and Oswaldo Schneider was still a shadow, always out of reach. His quest for vengeance was endless, and it was slowly consuming him.

Sitting beside him, you placed a gentle hand on his. His cold, metallic fingers trembled slightly under your touch, a sign of just how much his humanity was still alive beneath the hard surface.

"Boothill," you whispered, your voice steady but full of warmth, "it's okay. You’ve fought so long, but you don’t have to fight alone anymore. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together. You’re not alone. Everything... everything will be alright."

He didn’t respond immediately, but you saw the slight shift in his posture—the way he leaned just a little closer, his hair brushing against your arm. His eyes, those sharp, calculating eyes, softened, just for a moment. The aim symbols within them flickered slightly, as though they, too, were taking a break from their endless mission.

His voice was low, rough, as though it had been unused for far too long. "I... I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting like this." The words came out almost as a confession, a crack in his usually impenetrable armor. "Everywhere I go, it feels like I’m chasing ghosts. My family... my home... it all just keeps slipping away, no matter how hard I try."

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. He stiffened at first, his mechanical body too rigid, but then, slowly, he let go of the tension, allowing himself to be enveloped by your warmth. His chin rested on your shoulder, the weight of his past pressing against you, but you held him tighter.

"It’s okay, Boothill," you murmured, your voice a gentle whisper. "You don’t have to carry everything alone. I’m right here, always. And I’ll help you find your peace, even if we have to fight for it together. We’re a team, and I’ll never leave your side."

For the first time in a long while, Boothill let himself relax, his grip on you steady but soft. The storm inside him had not yet passed, but in this moment, there was comfort—a fleeting sense of safety.

"You’re right," he whispered, his voice low, almost hesitant. "I’ve been carrying too much... Maybe it’s time to let someone else carry a little of the weight."

And for a moment, the stars outside seemed to shine a little brighter. As if even the universe itself was reminding him that he was not alone.

The stars stretched infinitely before you, the ship gliding smoothly through the cosmos. Dan Heng stood near the observation window, his eyes distant, gazing into the void. His posture was tense, as it often was, his sharp features betraying none of the turmoil within. The weight of his past, the memories of his previous incarnation, lingered like a storm cloud hanging over him.

You had known him long enough to recognize the signs—the way his shoulders would stiffen, how he would withdraw into himself when the shadows of the past grew too overwhelming. He had always been like this: detached, burdened by things he could not control, unable to fully reconcile with the legacy of his past life as the Imbibitor Lunae.

Without saying a word, you approached him. He didn’t turn to face you, but you didn’t need him to. You knew what he needed, even when he didn’t.

You reached out, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm beneath your fingers, but the tension in his body was like a barrier—one that you knew he had built over countless years. Still, you could feel the way his body subtly relaxed at your touch, just a fraction, but it was enough.

"Dan Heng," you said softly, your voice the only thing breaking the silence. "I know you carry a heavy burden, and I know it’s not easy to shake the past. But you don’t have to do it alone. Whatever comes, I’ll be here. You don’t have to keep everything locked inside. Everything will be alright, I promise."

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. He simply stood there, his gaze fixed on the stars, his expression unreadable. But you didn’t pull away. You stayed close, your presence offering the quiet reassurance he needed.

Finally, his voice came, almost like a whisper. "It’s hard," he admitted, his tone low, vulnerable in a way you rarely heard. "To live with all these memories. To know what I’ve done... what I was capable of... and still wonder if I can ever make up for it."

You stepped closer, placing your other hand on his back, your warmth reaching through the cold walls he had built around himself. "You’ve already done so much, Dan Heng. You’ve made a choice. And that choice is yours, not anyone else's. The past doesn’t define who you are now. You are not your past life. You’re you—and you are enough."

He exhaled slowly, as if your words had finally reached him, breaking through the fog of his thoughts. His hand, which had been resting at his side, slowly reached up, fingers brushing against yours. The touch was small, fleeting, but it was enough—a silent acknowledgment of your words.

For the first time in a long while, Dan Heng allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—everything would be alright. And as he turned his head slightly to meet your gaze, the faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice soft. "I... I needed to hear that."

And in that quiet moment, amidst the vast expanse of the stars, you both knew that, no matter how far you had to go or how many trials awaited, you would face them together.

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

i want to talk about how tenderly and tactfully the subject of trauma has been handled in family by choice. full credit to the original c-drama for the story — but the remake is my first introduction to the show and its premise.

families can be a person's first experience of a wound: that single unanswerable ache from which each of your hurts flow and fountain forward. it's rare for k-dramas to acknowledge this: to acknowledge that the individual to whom you are born may not belong to you. may not give you the grace you require to grow. may not take your small, hot hand; hungry for solace — and instead simply cast it aside. your family can be your first sharp disappointment — your first clear shock at the sheer ugliness of the world. to some, love is freely given — to others it is nothing more than a bone flung from a scant table. you hug the hunger like it's your own bed-pillow — it becomes your only home. the only house you ever live in.

through sanha & haejun's characters; one can see how the talons of trauma can mark you forever. both actors deserve accolades for the raw desperation and confusion in their eyes at the weight they're being asked to carry — especially inyoup. there's a muted, exhausted malaise in his eyes — the gaze of an adult caged within a teenager's body. by contrast, haejun appears younger than his years — a helpless, childlike hurt and betrayal borne by his eyes. both boys carry boulders unfit for such delicate shoulders — because there is a special kind of cruelty in asking a child to bear a burden that was never theirs to begin with. in lining their shoes with the gravel of grief since they were old enough to walk.

what does it to do to a child (in haejun's case) to be told that love is not intrinsic — and that it has to be earned? that it has to be paid back? what does it do to a child (in sanha's case) to be told that you are not enough as your own self — that you will never be forgiven for a flaw that was never yours to start with? what does it mean to taste a parent's neglect on your own tongue — to have it tint every part of your speech for the rest of time?

what does it mean to be a father to such children — as juwon's appa so fiercely upholds? to treat their scars as sacred. to harbor their hurts in his own hands. family by choice is as much about trauma as it is about healing — about the people knitted to you through their knowledge of your wounds; their patience with your past; their trust that your tears are temporary. about the neighbors, friends, and forged bonds that may not be of blood, yet sustain you nonetheless; surround your spirit with warmth. the people who choose you knowing the charred heartbreak in your chest — who love and accept you knowing the latticework of your loneliness: the people who press it all away with a single touch or smile – they are your true faith. they are your true family. they are the only ones who matter.

sanha, haejun, and juwon all have their crosses to bear — but they also have each other. there is always light to temper the dark. there is always sanha's eyes; and the way they soften when he looks at juwon: the jewel-toned reverence with which he reflects on every single thing she does for him. wherever there is trauma there is also and always a tryst with hope — a heart holding on to the idea that there will be more. there will be peace. there will be resolution. there will be sunlight at the end of the black silence.

family by choice reminds me of this quote by poet and novelist ocean vuong: "we were born from beauty. let no one mistake us for the fruit of violence—but that violence, having passed through the fruit, failed to spoil it."

[juniperdugong]

hello! can i req for a short bf!shua fic wherein yn has been sick for days and shua takes care of her and it kinda overwhelms her bec it was her first time being taken care of like that by other person (she’s used to being alone & shua just love her so much huhu) thank you! 🤍

Here Now - Joshua Hong

WC: 1k || Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst (?) || Lover boy Joshua Hong is in the house!!

A/N: I'm not gonna tell y'all what to do but...you maybe totally should envision this to "Lean On Me" (aka my favoritest SVT song ever)

It's been days since you've gotten up from the comfy nest you created for yourself on your bed. Wrapped up in blankets and snuggling pillows like a newborn monkey.

You hadn't gotten sick like this in forever, it's very possible that you haven't been this sick in your entire life actually. You've been calling out of work for days and any movements made past the kitchen or the bathroom were futile attempts that would leave you hurling.

So all in all, you're extremely lucky to have Joshua by your side. Bringing you meals, making you meals, making sure you're taking medicine, he even took a few days off to make sure that if you needed him he was there.

Which, if you were being honest, made you feel even more sick.

It's not like the attention wasn't appreciated...no! You loved the way that Shua loved. You really truly did! It's rare that fights ever caused wedges between you because he was always so good with communication. He was always keen on making sure that you knew that he was yours and only yours, calling every single night on tour and planning dates like it was his job. Shua was - just as he's boasted about all these years - a gentleman.

But you'd be lying if you didn't acknowledge that this didn't feel right, that him taking care of you felt comfortable. It was anything but.

You can take care of yourself and you have for many many years. So when Shua started to bring over food, made sure to set alarms to remind you to take medicine, and spend nights at your place - it's fair to say that you felt suffocated? Or it's more like you didn't want to take up his time.

Joshua is busy. You've always known him to be extremely hard-working, not only in your relationship but also in his professional life. And it's not like you ever minded, in fact, you enjoy being alone. It's just how life has turned out for you thus far, in ways, being alone is much more comfortable than being surrounded by others constantly.

When you'd gotten together it was pretty out of the ordinary. It's not like you're polar opposites but Shua is so outgoing, friendly, and sociable - it astonished you how kind he was to everyone. To be able to call him your boyfriend seems a bit like a privilege. And it only made it that much harder to accept this kind of care.

"You don't have to do all this Shua."

"Hmm? What do you mean?" He stares at you from the edge of the best where he's sitting, the thermometer still in his hand as he had just checked your temperature.

"I mean take time off and stuff. You don't have to do this for me."

Utterly confused he keeps quiet, placing the thermometer on the nightstand. He's always been good about letting other people have the space to speak.

"I know you're trying to be nice...but I can do stuff myself. You don't have to dote on me." He's letting you finish your speech but as you look into his eyes you can see he's readying himself to refute. "I know you're busy-"

"No." His tone is so stern that it scares you.

"Josh-" You nervously rub your hands together but Shua is quick to hold your palms in his.

"I'm not busy, y/n. I'm not busy when it comes to you."

"That's the thing Shua! You really shouldn't feel like you need to do any of this just because I'm your partner or out of any obligations...." He sees the guilty look on your face as you stare down at your intertwined fingers.

He scoffs, "Yeah and you shouldn't feel like you're a burden to me because I'm your partner." He rolls his eyes with a smile but you're completely blown away by the statement. "Seriously...you act like we're not gonna recite the words "through sickness and health" one day."

"Yeah but you have so much going on- I've taken care of myself for forever so it's really okay for me to continue to do so. I haven't had the kind of support you do, y'know? I've grown accustomed to being alone and doing things alone..." You take a big breath and let it out, letting the weight glide off your shoulders. "I just don't want to be another thing you think you have to worry about."

He's looking at you with the biggest stupidest doe eyes, taking in every single word you say. It only makes your heart pound more and not in any sort of lovesick manner, but in embarrassment of the situation.

"You're so...frustrating sometimes y/n."

Dumbfounded at the jab your face screws up in disbelief of his words...it feels like your world could come crashing down right now. Maybe you just shouldn't have said anything-

"I know you've done things all on your own. You're literally one of the strongest people I know. It's one of my favorite qualities about you. You're independent, reliable, and so- Just- Ugh!" He facepalms. "I know all of this about you - you're so perfect and it breaks my heart that you would ever think you could be any sort of problem for me. I'm here for you. Yes, you've learned to go through it all alone and take care of yourself. But that doesn't mean that you have to do that...especially not anymore."

You don't know if it would be more appropriate to cry or smile in this situation so you resolve to just holding him as close as you can. You can feel as tears begin to gather but you hold yourself together -although, now you know that he wouldn't mind if you let it all go.

"It worries me so much that you feel like you can't lean on me." He rests in the crook of your neck and speaks against your skin.

"Just rest now, babe. Look your temp is already a lot better than yesterday." He separates from you and holds the thermometer up as proof, "Rest. I'm here now and I refuse to let you go through life alone!" That goofy smile that had you fallen head over heels for adorns his face.

*RING RING RING* "Medicine alarm..." He presses a kiss to your cheek. Yeah, you're really lucky to have Joshua.

A/N: Crying, I love him, Mom!! Also, I'm so sorry this took so much longer to write than I expected. I was out of ideasssss and dialogue was so rough to come up with for this one. (lowkey might wake up tmrw and feel so shit abt the dialogue ;-;) But thank you for requesting @honglynights !! I hope you enjoy! Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[lamnwar]

Sweet Boy ♡ // Akashi Seijurō x Fem!Reader

MDNI 18+ knb kinktober entry!!

A/N: when I tell you that I somehow always manage to write about that dude as if I worship him fr it's insane 😫 Context: you really lucked out when you managed to pull Seijurō Akashi. Warnings: Akashi has a praise kink, blowjob, reader swallows (teehee 🤭), reader is a bit of a worshipper, mention of fingering, brief makeout, missionary sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names ("good boy", "sweet boy")

Seijurō Akashi is a lot of things. He’s always been, and it seems that he’s destined to be the one to bear a thousand responsibilities. Maybe this is what comes with being the unique son of a rich family, or maybe he’s put that burden upon himself by taking roles of leadership from his youngest age. Captain of his basketball team for most of his education, the top student since forever, even taking the top spot in one of the toughest degrees at a top university. You’ve never known him to be the lowkey kind, the kind of guy that you wouldn’t notice unless you’re really pay attention. No, he is bright and commanding, so much so that for the longest time you couldn’t tell how you managed to pull him. He seems too good for you, like a star out of reach while you are, like everyone else, just a worm on Earth blinded by him. How can someone be so perfect, so well put together?

But the Seijurō that lays in your arms at night is far from who he’s perceived to be, that much is certainty. There’s something about the kindness in his eyes and the goodness with which he treats you that makes you fall in love even more each time. It doesn’t make sense; for all you know, love can’t be that endless, can it? And yet, you are proven wrong everyday, when he looks at you, when he smiles at you, when he kisses you.

Such a soft creature, under all that layer of authority and perfectionism. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever seen him like that, but you rather not comfort yourself in that belief – it’d be a much too strong stroke on your ego. Being the one with whom Seijurō Akashi lets his guards down completely, allowing himself to be seen like he’s never been seen before. Just a sweet boy – which you are deeply convince is his true nature – who loves you to the moon and back, and even beyond.

“Seijurō, you know I love you, right?” you never fail to remind him every time you kiss under the glim light of your bedroom.

He hums, or maybe purrs, like a cat indulging in the affection of another. It’s cute, and it makes your heart jump to see him like that. His hands tighten on your waist as you whisper sweet words of affection against his lips between kisses.

Smooch. I love you. Smooch. So fucking much I can’t even understand it myself. Smooch. You’re so pretty, Seijurō. Let me love every inch of you.

He swears under his breath, dark eyes shining like a thousand stars when he looks at you. He must have done something extraordinary in his past life to have you in his arms in this one. The sweetness of your tongue against his makes his heart melt, and he holds your face close and tight, like he fears your sudden disappearance if he’s not touching you. You giggle, pecking his lips.

“Sei, I’m right here, you know?”

He stares at you, his gaze at first incredulous, before it softens, just like his grip on your face. You’re right, you’re here, and for what he knows with certainty, you’re not going anywhere. He lets you pull his shirt of his body, the softness of your touch against his milky skin soothing his soul like nothing else can. There’s something in the way your fingers trace his perfect skin, and how the sweet kisses that follow right after makes the hair on his arms raise. The sudden twitch of his cock when you look at him with love and lust in your irises – hell, you haven’t touched him there yet that he’s already straining against the fabric of his underwear. You chuckle at the sight; it’s adorable, honestly.

“Ah... love, you’re teasing too much” he huffs in a small laugh.

You wouldn’t say so yourself – in fact, you’re not doing enough. But Seijurō entirely disagrees. Your simple presence is enough to feel like an invitation for more. He can’t help but tangle his fingers in your hair, ever so gently pushing your head lower in hopes that you’ll grace him with the caress of your lips where he needs it the most. You hum, leaving a last kiss to his navel before leaning back, a smile painted on your lips.

“Get rid of your pants f’me.”

He doesn’t hesitate twice to slide the fabric off his legs, and it an act of impatience that would surprise everyone else, he removes his boxers in the same move. Seijurō himself is fairly taken aback by his hurry – so uncharacteristic, but when he’s with you, he doesn’t care to keep up the façade. Every soft gasp and weak moan, everything that makes him so different from who he usually his; not having to be perfect, not having to be impeccable because you love him so much when he’s a mess.

“So pretty Sei... can I suck you?” You purr, face nuzzled against his hardened cock as your fingers trace the veins on the shaft.

That alone is enough for him to lose his mind, something primitive urging him to grab you and ravage you with nothing but pure, instinctive lust for you. But he holds on to the bit of self-control he has, and nods.

“Go ahead love, I can’t refuse you anything.”

His words are punctuated by a tender laugh, almost as tender as your tongue as it licks his tip. He shudders – you really don’t waste your time, huh. You start off nice and gentle, it’s almost how unbearable. Every small lick and every stroke of your hand at his base setting his insides on fire.

Oh, how he’d kill to just feel the warmth of your mouth...

And eventually he does. He can’t tell when, how... all he knows is the way his aching dick twitch from the feeling of you. You look up at him, gaze entranced by the sight of his writhing.

“Sei!” you whimper around him, the vibration of your voice coming out of your mouth resonating against the sensitive skin of his tip, “You’ll come in my mouth, right? You taste so good...”

His breath hitches – how can such lewd words sound so... loving? It’s not even a stroke to his ego, but a genuine expression of your feelings towards him. Your Seijurō, that tastes like heaven in your mouth, and even more when he comes down your throat.

The drunk look on your face when his hips buck forward, shoving his cock deeper down the abyss of your mouth, drawing hums of pleasure out of you. Each time you look at him, only to meet a work of art. His chest rising to his erratic breath, his muscles contracting in a desperate attempt not to come too fast, and the furrowing of his eyebrows as he focuses on the feeling.

“Fuck... ah!”

You can feel your panties soak from simply hearing his huffs, watching him lose his composure the faster you bob your head, the deeper you take him, the more languidly you swerve your tongue around his cock. He groans, unable to stop his release anymore.

“Come for me Seijurō, you’re so handsome when you come” you hum before sucking him through the last seconds before he lets go.

You hum, your voice a song in his ear as he lets out spurts of his sweet cum down your throat. And you swallow all of it, ravishing in its taste. The look of bliss on your face alone could get him rock hard again, and he can’t think straight anymore. A dazed-out gloss in his eyes when you let him go, thumb swiping away the drool coating your plump lips. You crawl to him, kissing him to get him out of his secondary state.

“You’re such a sweet boy” you praise as you kiss him, leaving the taste of him on his tongue. “The sweetest.”

He chuckles, and in a swift move pushes you to your back. Time becomes the most abstract concept when he sees you like this, splayed under him, your lips coated thinly by saliva and your eyes... oh, your eyes. Begging, pleading, praying for him to make love to you. To let himself melt into you, so you could feel a little less insane about how you feel about him. So you’d know with certitude that you aren’t the only obsessed one – though, how can you not be? Even when he’s the desperate man that strips you off your clothes right now, he’s still the most beautiful being you’ve ever seen. The sight itself making your cunt drench, the guttural need for him seeping through your folds and coating your inner thighs.

“You want me that much, sweets?” he asks, somehow surprised by your wetness.

“Sei! What are you surprised about?” you chuckle “you’re my pretty boy, of course I want you.”

“Yeah? You’re too nice to me...” he coos, finger gathering your juices as a testament of your excitement.

“Barely.”

“Then I guess I should fuck you good, hm? Give back for all your kindness.”

You nod eagerly, covering his face in kisses while his fingers tease your sweet cunt. Slow, tender moves, just to feel you and make you yearn for him even more than you already are. Your lips quiver, short pleading whimpers leaving your lips. You need him now.

And to your contentment, so does he. His pretty cock stands proudly between your legs, impatiently waiting for the warm embrace of your pussy. At this moment, not a single thought can cross your mind. No, because it’s filled to the brim with Seijurō. The honeyed taste of his lips, the skilled touch of his fingers that fires up your skin, and the pleasurable sting of his dick sinking in your cunt. You’re entranced, enchanted.

“So pretty...” you mutter between soft whimpers of pleasure.

Your words are enough to take him to the moon, the grip on your thighs tightening as he spreads you open more, pushing deeper. He swears – one of the rare occasions in which you’ll ever hear him use foul language. He can’t help it, not when you whine such nice words in his ear.

Forehead pressed to yours as he thrusts to the perfect rhythm, he lets out the most beautiful sounds against your skin. Your fingers find his hair, slightly tugging into it as you fill his ear with sugar.

“Such a nice boy, Sei...”

“No one – ah! No one fucks me better than you.”

“Such a good boy, hm, gonna come for me again, yeah? You know I love it when you fill me, love.”

He grits his teeth, the song of your praise making his cock leak shamelessly. Your eyes struggle to fixate on him, to your own dissatisfaction. Seijurō Akashi is the most beautiful when he comes. You hold tight to him, fingers digging in his skin as he brings you to your orgasm. You shake and squirm, keeping him in an almost deadly embrace.

“Fuck!”

In a last few messy thrusts, he lets go and fills you to the brim, obediently responding to your previous request to do so. He doesn’t pull out yet; your pussy is heaven. And you keep him close to your body, close to your heart.

The organ pulses in your chest, pulsing in his. You could melt on the spot like honey in the sun. What have you done to be blessed like that? To have him in your arms like that?

Aren’t you blessed by the heavens, to have such a sweet boy all for you?

[librababe99]

The Wolverine's Heart

❥・CW: Old Man Logan, Female Reader, age gap, mentions of violence and past trauma, emotional vulnerability, sexual content, body worship  ❥・Word Count: 1649

Summary: Tonight you wanted to show Logan just how loved and cherished he is....

(Masterlist)

The small cabin, nestled deep within the wilderness, was far removed from the chaos of the world. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the steady rhythm of nature was the only sound that filled the air. The tall pines, their needles whispering secrets to the wind, surrounded the cabin like silent sentinels, guarding its solitude. Inside, the warmth from the crackling fire cast long shadows on the walls, dancing with a life of their own.

Logan sat in his worn leather chair, nursing a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled in the glass as he absently rolled it between his fingers, his mind a thousand miles away. The years had not been kind to him, and the burden of a life lived too long and too hard weighed heavily on his shoulders. His once rugged, indestructible frame now bore the marks of time—scars that never fully healed, a limp that never quite disappeared, and the ever-present ache in his bones.

But there was one thing that had kept him grounded in the face of it all—you. You had come into his life like a breath of fresh air, a balm for his soul. Despite the years that separated you, despite the scars that marred his body and the ghosts that haunted his past, you had seen something in him worth loving. And that love, gentle yet fierce, had slowly worked its way into the cracks of his heart, filling the empty spaces he thought would remain forever hollow.

You watched him from the doorway, the flickering firelight casting a soft glow on his weathered face. His eyes, though hardened by years of battle, held a depth of emotion that never failed to take your breath away. You had always admired the strength in him, the unyielding determination that kept him going even when the world seemed intent on breaking him. But tonight, as you stood there, you felt an overwhelming need to show him just how much he meant to you, to worship every part of him that he so often dismissed as damaged or broken.

“Logan,” you called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up at you, his expression softening as his gaze met yours. “Yeah, darlin’?”

You crossed the room to where he sat, placing your hand on his shoulder. The heat from his skin seeped into your palm, grounding you in the moment. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a mixture of confusion and hesitation crossing his features. “You don’t have to do that, kid. I’m fine.”

You knelt beside him, your hands resting on his knees as you looked up at him with a determination that matched his own. “I know I don’t have to, Lo. But I want to. You’ve done so much for me, and I want to give you something in return. Please, let me do this.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something he couldn’t quite name. Finally, he gave a slow nod, his rough exterior cracking just enough to let you in.

You rose to your feet and gently took the glass from his hand, setting it on the table beside him. Then, with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, you began to undress him. His flannel shirt, worn and frayed at the edges, slipped from his shoulders, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, marred with countless scars. Each mark told a story—of battles fought, of losses endured, of a life that had been anything but easy.

Your fingers traced the lines of his scars, your touch light as a feather. “Every one of these is a reminder of how strong you are,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You’ve survived so much…You’ve lived through things that would have broken anyone else. But you’re still here, and I’m so grateful for that.”

He didn’t respond, but the way his breath hitched told you he was listening. You continued to undress him, your movements slow and deliberate, as if each piece of clothing you removed was a layer of armor he no longer needed to carry with you.

When he was finally bare before you, you took a step back to drink in the sight of him. His body, though weathered by time and hardship, was still a masterpiece in your eyes. The strength in his muscles, the resilience in his bones, the raw masculinity that seemed to emanate from him—all of it was beautiful to you.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “You’re beautiful, Logan,” you murmured against his skin. “Every part of you.”

A low rumble resonated deep in his chest, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of your head as he pulled you closer. His touch was firm, but there was a gentleness in the way he held you that made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to say that,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut him off, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “I want you to know how much I love you, how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’ve given me so much, Lo Let me give you something back.”

You began to trail kisses across his chest, your lips worshiping every inch of him. You kissed each scar, each mark, each place where life had tried to break him and failed. And with each kiss, you felt him relax a little more, the tension slowly leaving his body as he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

Your hands roamed over his body, exploring the hard planes of his muscles, the rough texture of his skin. You marveled at the way his body responded to your touch, the way his breath hitched when your fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. He was a man of few words, but his body spoke volumes, telling you everything you needed to know.

When you reached his abdomen, you paused for a moment, taking in the sight of him. His stomach, once taut and defined, now bore the softness that came with age. But to you, it was just another part of him to love, another part of him that made him who he was.

You pressed a kiss to his navel, your lips lingering there as you whispered, “You’re perfect to me, Logan. Every part of you is perfect.”

A low growl escaped him, and you felt his hand tighten in your hair. But it wasn’t a sound of anger or frustration—it was a sound of need, of desire, of a man who was slowly allowing himself to be loved in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

You continued your journey downward, your lips and hands worshiping every part of him as if he were something sacred. And to you, he was. He was your protector, your confidant, your lover. He was the man who had seen you at your worst and loved you anyway, the man who had stood by you through everything, even when he had every reason to walk away.

As you reached his thighs, you took a moment to admire the strength in them, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under your touch. You kissed the scars that marred his legs, the ones that told stories of battles fought and won. And then, with a reverence that took your breath away, you moved further, pressing a kiss to the most intimate part of him.

He let out a sharp breath, his hand still tangled in your hair as he fought to keep control. But you didn’t want him to hold back—not tonight. Tonight was about him, about showing him just how much he meant to you, about worshiping every part of him until he understood that he was worthy of love, that he was worthy of your love.

You took him into your mouth with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, your tongue tracing the contours of him. His taste was heady, intoxicating, and you reveled in the sounds he made as you pleasured him. The low growls, the sharp intakes of breath, the way his body tensed and relaxed under your touch—it was all a symphony to you, a symphony that played just for you.

You took your time, savoring each moment, each sensation. You could feel him trembling beneath you, could feel the way he was slowly losing the battle for control. But that was what you wanted. You wanted him to let go, to give in to the pleasure, to allow himself to be loved in the way he deserved.

And when he finally did, when he finally let go and allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He came undone in your hands, his body shuddering with the force of his release, and you held him through it all, your touch gentle and loving as you brought him back down to earth.

When it was over, when the last tremors had subsided, you pulled him into your arms, holding him close as you whispered words of love and reassurance into his ear. He clung to you, his body still trembling slightly, and you could feel the way his heart pounded against his ribcage, could feel the way his breath came in shallow gasps.

But more than that, you could feel the way he had finally let down his walls, the way he had finally allowed himself to be loved without reservation, without fear. And in that moment, you knew that this was just the beginning.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed! While this is technically a standalone fic, I do have a 2.7K story thats completely done (its smut 🤭 and definitely dives into some new territory for me compared to other work I've posted) so you could look at it as a continuation of this little "universe." I'm curious if y'all would want that later tonight or maybe tomorrow? I don't want to release anything to quickly😭 - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

[furiousgoldfish]

How many of these 'rules for thee but not for me' have your abusive parents enforced on you?

I am allowed to criticize you, insult you, humiliate you and put you down in front of others. If you ever as much as imply I do anything wrong, or make me look bad in front of anyone, I will end you.

I am allowed to be aggressive, loud, intimidating, forceful and violent. You're not allowed to use force even in self defense, otherwise you are the abusive one, and how dare you.

I am allowed to need attention, comfort, appreciation, admiration, praise, reassurance, resources, time, energy, and everyone's support, at all times. If you ever need any of this, not only you are a burden but you're taking away attention that could have been mine and I need it more than you do. You do not deserve any of it.

I am allowed to make mistakes, to do harm with 'good intentions', to make human error and do things completely wrong. Everyone needs to give me a benefit of the doubt and forgive me immediately. If you ever make something I decide is a mistake, not only I will assume you had the worst intentions, but I will punish you severely for it and make you feel like you're the worst failure ever born.

I am allowed to control you completely. I can forbid and deny you anything, even food. I say what you do and when you do it, and you have to do it regardless of how rude I am asking it. If you ever even ask me to do something you need me to do, I will act like you are unreasonable, selfish and trying to take something away from me.

I am allowed to be emotional, whiny, complain, rant, threaten, wallow and cry. You are not allowed to show any emotions or you're spoiled, whiny, insufferable and unworthy of human society.

I am allowed to be seen as human and reasonable, all my actions excusable, and nobody is ever allowed to forget that I have emotions and that it's wrong to blame me for anything. You are not allowed any of this, you don't get to be taken seriously, and all of your actions are inexcusable. I can forget you're human and that you have emotions and it still makes me better than you.

I am allowed to hurt you if you do anything that irritates or annoys me even a little, even if you did it unknowingly and were just being a human. If you ever hurt me, even accidentally, you are a demon, worst child alive, and deserve to burn in hell forever.

I can take any revenge against you and it's justified. If you even consider any kind of revenge, you're evil.

I can forget that you exist and not care at all how my decisions affect you and your life. If you ever make a decision without considering my feelings first, you are the most selfish, disgusting, deprived and evil person who lives only to cause me harm.

My anger directed at you is righteous. Your anger directed at me is selfish, ungrateful, spoiled, deranged, out of control, disgusting, dangerous, makes you evil.

If I ever show contempt at you, you are supposed to still rationalize it as 'love'. If you ever as much as look at me wrong, I will take it as an expression of utter unreasonable hatred and disrespect.

I deserve respect, regardless of what I do to you. You don't deserve respect, and you never will, regardless of what you do for the rest of your life.

I am intelligent, and my every decision is superior to any of yours. You will never be intelligent, your every decision will be considered stupid until you do exactly as I tell you to.

I decide who you are and how are you to be treated. You don't get to decide, not for yourself, not for me. You will perceive me how I tell you to perceive me. I will perceive you as unlovable and awful no matter what you do, and you must perceive yourself this way too.

You must center me in your life. You are completely irrelevant to me and exist solely to make me look good, give me benefits of labour and love and to avoid making any trouble for me. If you try to do otherwise I will attack you as if you are the worst creature existing who is a burden to everyone alive.

Guests and relatives are here to give attention to me. You are not allowed attention and should instead be there as a servant/make me look good.

It is never my fault how I react to you, or even for what I do to you unprovoked. It is always your fault how you react to me, and you are further responsible for all of my actions and emotions as well. Nobody is responsible for your emotions, you might as well not have any.

I am not responsible for my own violence. You are responsible for my violence, and for violence of other people towards you.

I deserve everything I ever wanted from parenthood and raising a child, and only good parts too. If anyone tries to make me go through any unpleasant part, they're stupid or evil. You do not deserve even the basics of a normal childhood, instead you need to be the toughest kid alive if you want to survive.

I can be sensitive to every little hint, implication or face expression. You are not allowed to be sensitive even to the most crude and humiliating remarks or insults. You are not allowed to even have a problem with threats, blackmail or violence.

Whatever bothers me is a real and serious issue. Whatever bothers you is superficial, unimportant, made-up, you dramatizing and you seeking attention. Your problems are not real.

I cannot be compared to anyone for I am unique and special. You can be compared to the most despicable monsters, criminals, predators, and other groups of people that I consider disgusting.

If I am sick, it's a tragedy. If you are sick, stop pretending and get to work. And it's also your own fault and how dare you be sick only to force me to tolerate you being in bed and otherwise ignore you. You've done this on purpose to make me worry.

If I'm hurt, no measure is big enough to comfort me, bring justice back into the world, ensure revenge and correct whatever evil hurt me. If you're hurt, you deserved it, and you're probably just making it up anyway.

Taking care of me is your responsibility. Taking care of you is nobody's chore and you're selfish for wanting it.

My problem are your problems, and you are responsible for fixing them, even when you can't possibly do anything about them. Your problems are irrelevant and nobody cares.

You have to make me look good even at the price of truth, free will, and your own sanity. I can make you look bad in front of others for fun and amusement.

If you're inconvenient to me, I have every right to hate you, hurt you and do anything in the world to force you to change whatever is bothering me. If I'm inconvenient to you, adjust, and keep silent.

[five-rivers]

Contingency Chapter 1

AO3

“... And, anyway, that's what happened,” said Danny, nervously fiddling with the end of his ghostly tail.  “It was all very…”  He swallowed.  “Bad.”

From her throne, Pandora’s regard was heavy, the size difference between them accentuated.  He could have floated up to talk to her, so that they had the same eye level, but he felt that, with this kind of news, this kind of request, he should be more… respectful.  So he was down near the ground, barely higher up than he would have been if he was standing on his legs.  

“I just thought that you should know, so that if I, um, if I went bad, you’d be able to stop me.”

Pandora touched one hand to her chin, thoughtfully.  “This is something that troubles you,” she said, looking down at him.  “It troubles you greatly.”

“Yes,” admitted Danny.  “Shouldn’t it?”

She inclined her head very slightly.  “Have you spoken to anyone else about this?”

“Well, my friends and Clockwork,” said Danny.  “And my sister.  But that’s because they were there.  They were involved.”

“And you have come to me, because you know what I already keep contained.”

Danny nodded.  “And I’m sure that Clockwork would do something, but I don’t really know, um, how real those other timelines are.  So, it’s better if someone else knows.”  He paused, apprehensive.  “Can you help me?”

He wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she attacked him here and now.  He’d be disappointed, sure, and he would fight back, but he wouldn’t be surprised.  After what he’d told her, and after what he’d seen his future self do, he didn’t think he’d even be mad.  It was even what he was asking her to do, more or less.  And even if he didn’t think it was necessary right now…  Well, other people were allowed to have other opinions.  

Pandora leaned back with a sigh, cutting most of the tension.  “I can help you.”  She stood.  “This is a great burden you have taken upon yourself.”

“It’s my own fault,” said Danny shrugging.

“Is it?”

“It isn’t anyone else’s,” said Danny.  

Pandora looked like she wanted to say something, but she simply walked down the steps away from her throne.  “Come.  What we need is elsewhere.”

Danny followed her out of the palace and to a nearby temple.  Ghosts greeted them and bowed to Pandora as they passed by.  In the back of the temple, surprisingly, was something like a warehouse, full of vase-like pots taller than Danny.  

“It was like this in Greece that was, as well,” said Pandora.  “The temples always also served as a place to store offerings and wealth.”

They passed through the rows and rows of pots to a room far at the back.  Within were… more pots.  But these seemed… finer, somehow.  Higher quality, more shapely.  They also looked raw, unfired.

“I use my box for weaker things,” said Pandora, using one of her lower hands to steer him towards a particular pot.  “But for more powerful evils, I use my pithoi.”  

“Pithoi?”

“These jars,” she said.  She picked up a paintbrush and palette, handing them to Danny.  They were oversized in his hands, but not overly heavy.  “Write your name - your full, complete name, as true as you can make it - on the neck of the pithos.  Written by your own hand, when the pithos is fired and complete, it will create a draw that you cannot escape from.”

“Like the ‘reclaim’ setting on your box?”

“Quite so.”

“And that will work?”

“Did you know, I helped make the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep?” asked Pandora, clearly amused.  “And, then, I did not have the benefit of his own true name in his own hand.  It will work.”

Danny nodded and swiped the paintbrush through the black paint.  He flew up to the rim of the pithos, then hesitated.  What was his ‘true’ name?  His legal name?  The name he felt most comfortable with?  He went by nicknames and aliases so often…

“Do what feels right,” said Pandora.  

“Right,” said Danny, “okay.”

He bit his lower lip and, as carefully as possible, painted ‘Daniel ‘Danny’ Janus James Vladimir Fenton-Phantom.’  Then, he sighed.  Why did he have so many middle names?  It was ridiculous.  

“Very good,” said Pandora, taking back the palette.  

“Is that it?”

“That's it,” said Pandora.  

She led him back out of the warehouse.  It was good, because he couldn't remember the way out at all.

“You are still worried,” observed Pandora.  

“Yeah, I mean, it’s just that– I know about this.  What if I just, before anyone knows I’ve gone bad, what if I come here and break all of these?”

“I can hide it.  That was my intention, regardless.”

Danny nodded, still not entirely soothed.  “That’s good.”

“There is one more thing that we could do,” said Pandora.  “But it will not ease your cares.”

“It isn’t about me,” said Danny.  “It’s about who else might get hurt.  What can we do?”

Pandora gave him another slight nod.  “There is a river that runs through my lands, called the Lethe.  A drop of its waters can make a ghost forget their whole life.  Passed through several filters and diluted, a drop can instead make one forget the last hour or so.”

“So, I wouldn’t remember coming here or doing this?”

“That is so,” said Pandora.  

Danny licked his lips, then nodded.  “Okay,” he said.  “I might ask you for help again, though, if I don’t remember.”

“And I will do my best to reassure you, although what you have already done is the best step you can take.”

She clapped her hands, and a servant - not the Box Ghost, but a ghost Danny didn't know - scurried up.  Pandora spoke to them for a while, and then they ran off.  

“I have sent them to fetch the potion,” she explained.  “Let us sit together until he returns.”  She directed him to a bench they could both sit on.  

“Did they have these in Ancient Greece, too?” he asked, a bit nervous about erasing part of his memory, even if it was only a very small amount.  

“Something you must know,” said Pandora, “is that people have always been people.”

Danny nodded, taking that for what it was.

The servant came back with a small clay jar, the top sealed with wax.  They handed off to Danny with a bow and then scurried away again.  

Danny looked up at Pandora.  She nodded encouragingly at him.  He took a deep breath to steady himself and broke the seal.  Before he could double-guess himself, he threw the potion back, and he… 

He…

“Pandora?” he said, noticing the ghost next to him.  “What am I…?  When did I get here?”

“You had just finished telling me about your encounter with Clockwork and your future self.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  “Right.  Can– Can you help me?”

Pandora nodded solemnly.  “I will do my best.”

[burningcheese-merchant]

PLEASE MERCHANT LISTEN TO ME

I started watching Burning Spice Cookie's flashback in the game and suddenly I started thinking "is that all? How stupid" because there are characters older than him and who apparently haven't had this problem of "boredom from "same old thing" so he leaves the Burning Spice Cookie thing as childish. but then I started thinking, what if I developed this? You see, if a person doesn't have a proper childhood they can develop psychopathic traits (more or less what I've seen in Burning Spice Cookie) so what if he and the other Beasts didn't have childhoods? We are not given any clue that they have grown, which gives us to understand that they appeared among the common cookies as adults.

Imagine that you barely have time to know your own name and suddenly you are thrown into... (I don't know, a battle?) expecting you to help calm everything down. What if, as soon as Burning Spice Cookie was born, he began to be burdened with many responsibilities and having to fight to unify Beast-Yeast into one nation? It would be a good reason why he "got bored" with everything, since some psychopaths have that trait of enjoying causing harm or hating monotony and social rules (it could also be an explanation for your au's Burning Spice Cookie).

I am SO glad someone else sees the problem with Burning Spice's "boredom". We have a million immortal characters in this universe and not a single one has had this issue with their lives. The Ancients live forever thanks to the Soul Jam, and they don't seem bothered by it at all (hell, look at Golden Cheese. She is actively pursuing immortality, for herself and especially for her loved ones). The Elementals are immortal, and they have zero complaints about it. Millennial Tree and Sugar Swan are older than the world itself, do you see them crying about it? Nope. They live and carry out their duties happily. You don't even see this with the ones that actually WERE mortal once. Fire Spirit? He loves who he is now, he's said so out loud in cutscenes in Ovenbreak. Sherbet? Though he misses being with Cotton, he otherwise loves being free to travel and see the world almost entirely unburdened, the way he always dreamed. Frost Queen? She adopted her role and upholds the balance of nature with grace. Life and immortality are only what YOU make of them. The Beasts are a bunch of stupid, selfish babies. The end.

"Not having a childhood" IS an interesting point to raise, though. You're absolutely right: having a tumultuous youth can and often does lead to psychological issues of all kinds, big and small ask me how I know lol. And for all we really know, they WERE born adults right from the jump. How Cookies are born and how they age are SUPER weird in this series and neither is ever explained properly besides "baked in oven", so... What's keeping anyone from imagining characters just born fully grown right away?

With this in mind, and with the points you've raised, we can maybe look at the Beasts like this: people who were brought into the world without being asked (although no one is), and burdened with nigh-impossible responsibility right away. Immediately told to sacrifice themselves for people they do not know or care about, who do not know them or care about them. To uphold a balance they may not understand, nor did they create themselves. Never having been allowed the chance to live and grow as all sapient beings are entitled to; to go out and have fun and be foolish and make mistakes that they end up learning from. They were born abnormal, and they never never allowed to escape that abnormality once. They live only for others, never for themselves, not even for small things. One has to wonder if they even counted as people at all in the eyes of those they fought for, or if they were just archetypes whose faces and actions were used to placate and justify whatever anyone wanted them to.

... Yeah, that sounds pretty shitty when you put it that way lol. It just goes to show how the Ancients are the true rightful owners of the Soul Jam, in my opinion. They EARNED that power, it was not given to them on a silver platter. They were able to live life as regular mortals for a while, then actively sought out that power and proved themselves worthy of it. Hollyberry united an entire region of warring houses. Dark Cacao tamed dragons and brought peace to a long-devastated land. Pure Vanilla endured the many arduous trials of the Sugar-Free Road in pursuit of truth and enlightenment. These are all things that require hard work, dedication, humility, and a certain wisdom that you gain from experiencing life in general. Wisdom that the Beasts may or may not have possessed, because they may or may not have ever been able to attain it in the first place.

As for my Yandere AU Spice... Yandere Spice is well and truly a psychopath (all the Yandere Beasts are). It's the thing you see often with actual stalkers: he's more in love with the IDEA of Golden Cheese than the woman herself, as she actually exists. It's all about what HE wants, what HE needs, what HE expects from her. Pure, utter selfishness, projection and delusion, as psychopaths are fundamentally incapable of empathizing with others (that's what marks them as psychopaths in the first place). With the Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese one, he's the same, but A) leaning a bit more into his bloodlust/enjoyment of harming others (which is also common in psychopaths, like you said), and B) him actually being clever/manipulative enough (at least to some degree) to know how to play into Golden's wants and feed her ego in order to sway her (Golden in this AU is also just kind of a fucked up person on her own, independent of Spice, so it's an unlucky combination). She's not "boring" like everything and everyone else is. She captivates him, she surprises him, she keeps him on his toes. He "loves" her. Therefore, he owns her and vice versa, and he will do whatever it takes to have her all to himself, up to and including hurting and killing innocents (it's not like they mattered, anyway). What caused him to be this way ultimately does not matter; maybe it's that overwhelming burden of responsibility and lack of a choice or a chance to live life that we addressed earlier. Perhaps he was just born broken. Whatever it is, he's a bloodthirsty, selfish, uncaring monster and it is Golden Cheese that he has chosen to make pay for it, unfortunately.

TL;DR Not liking immortality is a skill issue. The Beasts are dumb little crybabies. Yandere Spice is disgusting and should face a wall. I like writing deranged people far too much. I enjoy engaging in meaningful conversation with others about things. Thank you for the ask, I vibe with your thoughts and ideas, I hope you find lots of money on the ground today