#to be specific to the fate world rather than her own

[mythalism]

Dude yeah Solas going back to the prison is so dumb to me. Like I assumed before seeing Trick’s post they he and the inquisitor were going into the fade itself to where he sealed the dreams or whatever. But instead I’m going to take my wife to my divorcee empty ass apartment where the ghosts of my past call me a wet loser? What?

JHGKEJRGHKERJHGKREJGH no ur right. i think it genuinely only works when you look at it from a mythological story perspective rather than the two of them as individual people... which is interesting because their whole stories are kind of about how they lose themselves to the myth that surrounds them... so i think its supposed to be the ultimate conclusion of that.

they are at once both finally free of the burdens of the myths and expectations that follow them as the dread wolf and the herald of andraste because they have left the mortal world that forced them into those roles and stripped them of their personhood, but they have also completely submitted themselves to those roles by submitting to the logical conclusion of the myths that they could not escape. for the dread wolf, it is earning his redemption through his willing submission to his own trap. its the logical, full-circle mythological conclusion to the trickster who trapped the gods, now trapped for eternity himself (allegedly, he will prob eventually break out... even loki gets his freedom during ragnarok...). for the inquisitor, it is andraste's herald finally sharing andraste's fate, choosing to leave the mortal world behind to ascend to the golden city alongside the god that she loves. both (presumably, for a lavellan) have tried to reject the myths attached to them over and over and over, but in the end they choose them willingly, and that choice at once binds them to those myths forever while simultaneously freeing them from the burden of them. its giving oedipal greek tragedy of attempting to outrun your fate and it finding you anyway, just when you thought you were finally making your own choice, but with a hopeful and bittersweet spin. its actually fucking insanely brilliant when i think about it this way it makes me genuinely foam at the mouth.

however the major caveat to this is i do not think this is presented nearly clear enough in veilguard. the only reason i am able to create such wonderful, deep meaning from this is honestly because my bachelor's degree is in literature and i literally have formal academic training analyzing storytelling. and it took me like a week to actually sift through all this in my brain and go back and sift through lines and images in the game to support my analysis. it should not take that much work, it should have been more clear. because yeah, the first time you play it it absolutely feels like your girly pop lavellan is making the WORST, down-bad delulu decision of her life while the rest of the world is screaming GIRL DUMP HIM!!!!!!!! and im not suggesting im smarter than anyone for looking at it “the right way” or anything like that. im saying that i think in order to get the meaning from it that the writers intended, you have to look at it through a very specific literary lens, and that is something that most people are not going to default to… because why would you? the story should lead you there on its own. there shouldn’t be a niche prerequisite to enjoying the ending. a few more lines about people made into myths, much like those we got throughout inquisition, could’ve helped facilitate this. they did a great job of hammering in the regret and choice themes to the point it was like beating a dead horse with a stick. and there are a few good lines that kind of give this vibe (“you’re not JUST the inquisitor, right?” “they call me the dread wolf, what will they call you when this is over?” “there is no fate but the love we share,” a codex from felassan about solas being forced to play into the dread wolf persona, etc.) but they probably could’ve added a few more to talk about mythological apotheosis and choice in the context of fate rather than just in the context of regret, and it would’ve helped at least a bit.

so i fully understand peoples discomfort with the ending as a result. i think it’s a logical conclusion to come to based on how the story presents itself. however im pretty confident that this mythological vibe was tricks intention, based on a lot of their comments about their writing process and inspiration for solas, and the way they have written him overall. @corseque has a lot of amazing posts in her solas tag that talk specifically about the very deliberately mythological way that weekes wrote solas, and i think this is essential context for understanding the ending that the game simply does not sufficiently provide. it also definitely invalidates a lot of people's perceptions of not just their inquisitor, but the solavellan romance as well. however i hope me blabbing about how it can be absolutely brilliant when viewed through a specific lens might help people feel more at peace with it <3

[nobuverse]

Misato Headcanon: The Mother,  Matsui Jun. ( Part 1 )

Jun is, in the larger scheme of things, an unremarkable figure in the town of Okaki. She is, in every way, what one could expect out of a woman in her family. As a town which stubbornly holds onto the idea of arranged marriages for the sake of furthering alliances between businesses rather than what were once kingdoms. 

She did everything that was expected of her as a pretty, graceful and obedient girl. She tried desperately to be accepted and loved by a husband that saw her as little else than a mere tool, somehow believing that she could earn the affection she’d been promised by being the perfect wife. But nothing she seemed to do was worthy of heartfelt praise - not even when she proved her creative intelligence by helping to redesign so many of the Sanada Work’s ‘products’ to a Japanese audience. 

In trying to make sense of what she was doing wrong, she began to convince herself that producing a proper heir to the business would be what she needed to do in order to prove useful enough to him for him to love her.

But things went wrong. Instead of producing a happy, healthy child on her expected date, she went into preterm labor almost a month before she was due. Though not a death sentence for the child on its own, the nature of her complications were rather extreme. She suffered heavy blood loss which could not be controlled - leading to an emergency hysterectomy , thereby preventing her from having any more children in the future.

It was from that day that the resentment started to grow for her own child, who had shattered her dreams, her vision of the perfect child. She felt detached as she watched her from the incubator, the representation of her own failure as a mother.

The situation would only get worse with the coming years as well, as she found Misato’s ‘rebellious’ and ‘ungrateful’ attitude to be an insult to everything she had dutifully endured up to that point. Who was this ungrateful brat to complain? To want something beyond what she already had when she lived in more riches than most people would ever seen in their lifetimes? Any success that Misato met by going against tradition was bitter to witness, Jun feeling that a person such as this should not be able to succeed. 

As she got older, Misato came to learn it was best completely ignoring this biological mother of hers, who drowned her hate and self resentment in wine and sake. A broken woman who never dared to dream for herself. An envious stranger she was forced to share a home with.

[ambrosiagourmet]

In chapter 28, Marcille lays out why the journey she's been on has been worth the pain: because they were able to bring Falin back. The injuries, the indignity, and the mess of it all - they are tolerable primarily in context of destination she believes she's reached at this point.

In truth, of course, the story is far from finished. In fact, I would argue that this is actually where hers really starts. This scene holds the seed of the very thing the Winged Lion will exploit to lead Marcille to become the Lord of the Dungeon. After all, with a desire as far reaching and deeply held as Marcille's, if the only acceptable outcome is success, what other choice does she have but to bargain with the infinite?

So let's talk about this idea - where it leads her, how Laios' path intersects with it, and how they both help each other move forward in the face of failure.

First though, I want to step back and talk about something else: the shapeshifter chapters.

With these chapters recently covered by the anime, there has, of course, come plenty of fun discussions about which version of each character belongs which other character's perceptions, and what that means.

One thing I've seen pointed out a few times is the fact that both Laios and Marcille's impressions of each other are based around Falin. Marcille's version of Laios is larger and more masculine, because those are the traits that stuck out to her in contrast to Falin. Laios' version of Marcille was directly inspired by her appearance and demeanor when resurrecting Falin.

So why is this important to a discussion about Marcille being focused on success? Well, it shows us where Laios and Marcille's relationship starts: built primarily around their shared love for Falin. It's from that shared beginning that they begin to learn about each other on their own terms.

And this is true for the whole group, to be clear. They are united by circumstance - love for a lost companion, a sense of responsibility, a desire for freedom - but they all grow and help each other beyond that circumstance. They help Senshi bury the ghosts of his past and eat some Hippogriff stew. They help Izutsumi open up to mutual love and friendship. And they learn so much about each other: about Chilchuck's family and Laios' love of monsters and Marcille's desires to live life alongside others.

In the particular case of Marcille and Laios, understanding each other is what lets them save each other. It is not through Falin that Laios talks Marcille down from the edge the Lion has brought her to, nor is it through her that Marcille comforts Laios after the demon is defeated, when it is still unclear how everything will work out.

In fact, it is very specifically the unknown fate of Falin that Marcille comforts him about.

She is willing to accept the outcome - willing, now, to embrace the journey itself, rather than only accepting it as a means to an end.

This is a lesson she learns from Laios, and it's a lesson we watch Laios learn, too.

Just before making her deal with the Lion, Marcille recalls everything that led her to that moment. She lingers on the pain, recalling the worst of their journey:

She only pushes through by remembering her goals: saving Falin, and equalizing the lifespans of her friends to match her own.

And yet, 10 chapters later, when reflecting on why she actually wants to see her goals through, it is the good parts of that very same journey that shine through.

There's an inherent contradiction here, one which Marcille doesn't know how to face. How can the suffering that she tolerates also be the love that drives her forward? How can the loss that she's worked so hard to reverse also be the very circumstance that created a world she, now, cannot stand to give up?

And Laios confronts her with the truth. Because it just is.

Losing Falin forced him to open up to others in a way he never had. It forced him to choose what he cares about, and in making that choice, it gave him the opportunity to be seen. To connect with others.

He has already had to come to terms with the fact that Falin's death has given him something - he would not have been able to kill her again if he hadn't.

There is something here that is fundamental to Dungeon Meshi's understanding of what life even is. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that part of Laios' speech to Marcille in chapter 85 is actually first seen in the chapter where they fight off ghosts.

In 'Sorbet,' while possessed , Laios thinks that it would have been better if the dragon had eaten him, instead of Falin. The ghosts make people lose their will to live - they are dragged away from life.

When he's pulled back from that brink, Laios realizes that he can't move forward without accepting that she is gone. He even compares the way he was holding on to her to being possessed: it pulled him away from life, from the present moment.

To carry on, he must accept what has been lost, and focus on protecting the life that they still have.

Like Marcille, he has to accept the contradictions of their journey. That life means eating, and eating requires death. That sometimes one must be selfish in order to be kind, and that selflessness can easily be twisted into to cruelty.

That loss will, inevitably, lead you to find happiness that you may not have found otherwise.

This is how he gets through to Marcille. And I think part of the reason he reaches her with these specific ideas is because those contradictions are baked so thoroughly into their relationship.

Marcille only met Falin after she had been left behind by Laios. Laios was able to reconnect with Falin because she left Marcille. They both met each other through Falin, and yet they only really got to know and care for one another after she died.

And of course, that's why Marcille uses the same ideas to comfort Laios, in the final chapter. It is because of Laios that she is able to accept the journey for itself, and not need the happy ending to justify its meaning to her.

Together, they help each other move forward, and accept that they may not be able to bring Falin back.

Which, if I'm being honest... I think this is the reason Falin can come back, narratively speaking, without the resurrection feeling like it takes away from the themes of the story.

After all, she doesn't do it for Marcille or Laios - she does it for her own sake. Her own hunger and her own desire to eat are the things that lead her back to life.

All three of them, together, end the story like this: not clinging to the things they are afraid to lose, but knowing they can choose to move forward together.

And, importantly, this happy ending is no longer the thing that gives the journey meaning. Rather, it is the privilege of the journey itself that is her happy ending: the chance to walk alongside others in the time they have, to get to know each other, and to eat well.

[applestorms]

thinking about how near refers to light at the end of the series— not really as light yagami, not even really as kira, and not quite as L, but rather an amalgamation of titles: L-KIRA, a twisted mix of two personas, masks on top of masks. no longer a person but a series of letters, a filtered voice through a screen. a man who has built his entire life in the space between lies, who cannot let himself stop for a second without the weight of his own guilt, his sins, crushing him. regrets repressed because this is the only way it could ever be, it has to be worth it, it has to, it has to, because you can’t even bring yourself to consider what it all means otherwise.

i am a firm believer that light yagami, the son, the student, the average human person, dies at the same time that L does. at least at the beginning of the series he has some semblance of normalcy to hold himself to, the Serious Student persona that keeps him walking to and from school and talking to people and eating dinner with his family at home. how many times do we really see him going outside, post-L death? how often do we see him outside of some L-based police HQ, talking to people he isn’t trying to manipulate? really, it’s no wonder he falls so far, alienated as he is from the rest of humanity. when was the last time he breathed long enough to remember what the sky looks like? hugged his mom, laughed with his sister? did he ever visit his father’s grave? does he remember what the breeze smells like? was he ever really happy? did he deny himself his only chance?

at least in the case of L and near the isolation feels intentional, a preferable choice, carefully and logically considered for all the pros and cons. light never asked for the position he fell into, that fell upon him, that he created for himself. he denies the death note being a curse, but it’s not like he could ever admit it if it was.

light’s story arc in death note really feels like a tragedy to me, specifically in the sense that he never really gets the chance to change. on a plot level this is true, much of the second half of the story post-L death is light utilizing the exact same strategies as before (taking away his ownership of the DN to Strategize, romancing a woman he doesn’t care for to use her, fighting a snarky troll of a super genius hiding behind a letter whose real name & face he cannot find), but it’s true on an emotional level too. light never really gets to grow up, he never gets the chance to truly question his ideals or goals without the world he’s built by himself crashing down around him.

i keep thinking back to the significance of matsuda asking him about his dad, how he could drag him to his death for the sake of all of this. light’s response, so truthful in its desperation, really sums it all up: he died for a reason. KIRA has to win, or his dad died for nothing. he cannot face the idea that he caused his own father’s death, so KIRA must be justice. there is no other alternative. KIRA is god, or light yagami killed his own father for a fairytale.

really, it’s so fitting that his name uses the kanji for moon. moonlight— not originating from the moon itself but a reflection, of something brighter, greater, more powerful than he could ever be. light dies the same way as every other criminal he passed his judgement upon, on his knees and desperate, pathetic, begging for life even as he knows he is doomed to the same fate of nothingness that he granted to everybody else. godhood denied. he said it himself, that he could never be anything more than a human, but somewhere in the fog he lost track of the person he once was. and it’s near’s cruelest observation that stands out the most to me in that final scene— that he never really had to be this. he could’ve stopped at any point, felt his guilt, paid his regrets, and moved on with his humanity still intact. light has spent far too long repressing and denying to ever consider that an option anymore— but there was still room for sympathy for the 17 year old kid who killed without thinking, long before he built up such a dedicated palace of lies to justify his actions and hide away his guilt.

L-KIRA dies on the floor of a dirty, abandoned building, surrounded by the people he spent years manipulating and lying to and betraying. light yagami dies in a helicopter, locked and chained to his only closest equal, holding a notebook that he would use to sound the death knell of his own fate and wearing his father’s gifted watch.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Reaching New Heights

While under the impression that she has the house to herself, y/n enjoys some much needed alone time. Jake, planning on coming home to surprise her, walks himself straight into a whole new world.

Based off this request 🤍

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, virgin reader/losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), masturbating (f!receiving), simultaneous orgasm, multiple orgasm, very soft dom type beat, slight cockwarming if you squint, dry humping, touch of spit play, touch of voyeurism, praise, dirty talk, name calling, begging, very very sweet Jake ☹️, anxiety, fluff, swearing, talks of bad dating experiences, sorry if I miss any!

thank to the lovely anon who requested this! sorry for all of my other requests waiting, I promise I’m getting there! I had an idea like this already sitting in the drafts, so when I saw this request I had to write it! I hope this is what you were looking for, and I do apologize for this basically just being pwp. As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍 (extremely lightly edited)

Intimacy, especially in the sexual context, had always been a touchy subject for you. It wasn’t because of any moral dilemmas, nor because of bad past experiences. You weren’t saving yourself for marriage, and you did not value your virginity as a ‘virtue’. You simply chose not to engage because you had never met anyone who you believed was right for you. You had plenty of dates and failed talking stages with men who only ever seemed interested in getting in your pants, but you had never met someone who seemed interested in you beyond anything sexual. You wanted to explore, to test your own limits and discover yourself with another person, but you could not bring yourself to undress for someone who only wanted (and planned) to leave after the fact.

You were comfortable with your own routine, and after a while it seemed more likely that you would remain a virgin until your hair turned gray and you were sat in a nursing home. At first, it bothered you, but then it became the most normal part of your life. You would rather keep to yourself than give away a part of you to someone who would not appreciate it. Most people weren’t interested in dating once you specified that you would not put out on the first date, and to you, that was okay; they weren’t worth your time or effort. Life was simple without anyone else empeding on your routine, anyway.

Then, one fateful day at a lovely, locally owned music store, you found yourself in front of someone who changed your world entirely, flipping it on its axis and throwing your whole life off course. You had (literally) run into him when you were least expecting it; he had stepped in front of you as you were bustling to the counter to pay for your handful of vinyl records. He apologized profusely, landing a gentle hand on your arm to make sure you were steady on your feet and he hadn’t hurt you. You were too enthralled in the beauty of his face to comprehend the words he was speaking, anyway. His long brown hair hung down to frame his face, and his warm, chocolate coloured eyes seemed to be staring straight into your soul. His smile was inviting, and his charm was unexplainable. He’d made you fall for him without even trying.

Once you managed to overcome your nervous staring, you forced a smile and assured him you were alright. He introduced himself, hesitant to believe you were telling the truth, and insisted on buying your records for you as an apology. After a drawn out back-and-forth argument, he eventually managed to convince you that it was the only apology he would allow for himself. Before you ventured to the counter, you took interest in the specific guitar he was fawning over on the wall. After explaining the details to you, you were left feeling disappointed at the prospect of having to part with him once you stepped out the door.

He ended up buying your records, and the guitar hanging on the wall, but he didn’t seem to want to let you leave without anything more, either.

So, instead of going your separate ways, you ended up at a diner just down the street, sharing lunch and getting to know each other as best as you could in the limited time you had. Laughs were plentiful and fulfillment was felt from all sides. Jake Kiszka was the man you had been waiting for, someone who saw you as a person, not just something to fuck. He was interested in every small detail, and he wanted to know everything he could about you. He was a bit shy, and very nervous, but he was sweet, kind, and he took your breath away. When you left the restaurant, you had a new found excitement for life, and a phone number in your contact list that would now be called on the daily.

At first, the relationship was built slowly and carefully. The two of you started as friends, texting each other regularly and trying your best to discover all of the intimate details about each other. Then, when you guys built up enough courage, you started going on small dates; movie nights, dinner dates, Sunday afternoon drives… you wanted to do anything and everything with him. He quickly became your closest friend and your most trusted confidant. You spent so much time together that it was almost strange not being in the same place. Of course, eventually, his time to tour came around, and it threw your life so violently off track that it was nearly hard to function.

When he first told you, you tried to force a smile and pretend all was well, but he knew you better than that. He could see the sadness in your eyes, and the apprehension. You were both so head over heels for each other that it made it hard to think of anything else. All of the late night phone calls and evenings spent immersed in each other had finally resulted in something much bigger. You were in love, and you were terrified for him to leave you. You feared that once he was gone, he would find someone more exciting, more interesting. Little did you know, he was afraid of all the same things.

So, as you sat in his living room while he packed up the last of his things, he dropped a sly comment about you taking care of his place while he was gone, coming over and watering his plants, and even staying the night if you missed him too much. It was his indirect way of giving you a key to his house, and in turn, his heart. He slipped the spare key from his pocket, handing it over and giving you a smile. Before he went to the airport, you found yourselves confessing your hearts and kissing with tears running down your face. He asked you to be his girlfriend before he ever got on the plane.

Every night, when he was holed up in a different hotel room, he was calling you with excitement, unable to wait to tell you all about his day. It was a different kind of feeling, falling in love with someone without anything other than emotional connection. After a year of touring and only being home with you for a few days at a time, he was growing restless and more eager to be with you again. By the time he got home from traveling the world, he missed you so much that he rarely let you leave his side. Within a few months, your belongings were packed up and ready to be taken to his house, and not long after that, it was no longer just Jake’s house, it was yours, too.

When the two of you were together, it grew increasingly more difficult to navigate your lack of sexual experience. He was very affectionate, his hands always on you and kissing you whenever he could. You felt that he was getting frustrated with your rejections, and it forced you into a corner. You had to open up to him, to tell him the truth and that your avoidance was not because of him at all. You sat him down not long after the two of you moved in together, knowing that you should have confessed to him sooner, and fearful that it would change the way he viewed you.

But, almost as if Jake was put on the earth to challenge every single previous idea you had about men, he smiled and held you, expressing his gratitude that you were comfortable enough to share such things with him. He fell in love with you without sex, and that did not change anything for him. You were worth much more to him than that, and he wanted to make sure you knew it. He thanked you for telling him, and he apologized if he ever made you uncomfortable with his actions before your discussion. He promised that he would never push you, and you could take as much time as you needed to open up and explore that with him.

He was a dream come true, and after a few months, you could easily see that he was determined to stay true to his word. He didn’t once make you feel bad for wanting to wait a little longer, and he never pushed you to do anything that made you uncomfortable. Soon after, you began to realize that Jake truly was the one for you, and that all of your previous fears were quickly becoming obsolete. He did not want you for sex; he loved you for your heart, and when you were ready, he would love you for everything else, too.

Even while you found yourself amidst heated make out sessions, and you could feel how much he wanted you, he never pushed you further. When you laid in bed, and he inevitably found his hands becoming more and more curious, he stopped himself before you even had to say anything. He looked the other way when you were getting changed, and even closed his eyes and left the room if he accidentally walked in on you in an awkward position. He was the epitome of patience and kindness, and the longer you watched him respect you in such a way, the harder you fell for him.

You made sure to thank him often, expressing your appreciation for his patience and his willingness to wait. He valued you so highly, and your comfort was always his top priority. Sometimes, you feared that if you made him wait too long, he would begin to lose interest, but every day he proved to you that he was in it for the long haul. He wanted to be with you, and it did not matter in which way. He loved you, and if waiting made you most comfortable, then he would wait forever for you. It quickly became apparent to you that he was the love of your life, and the prospect of sharing that part of you became more enticing every single day.

It was not like you didn’t want to have sex with Jake; if anything, you wanted it so badly that it made it hard to think of anything else sometimes. Once the fear faded away, it was replaced with awkwardness and uncertainty on the topic. You feared that because of your lack of experience, it would be disappointing for him. There were so many questions that you did not know the answer to, and they plagued you almost every time you thought about it. What if he thought you were stupid because you didn't know what you were doing? What if he wasn’t interested in you once you took your clothes off? What if you did nothing but embarrass yourself?

It was all too much sometimes, and you knew the best way to deal with it was to talk to him, but the topic was daunting for you, and it was embarrassing. It was something you knew little about, and it made you feel silly and even a little naïve. You didn’t know what you liked, and you certainly didn’t know how to do anything that he liked. You knew that with the patience that Jake had shown you, he would be nothing but kind in bed, and he would certainly help you figure everything out, but it was so scary to think about, and it was easier for you to avoid it. You were afraid of looking dumb, and the fear hindered you more than anything else. In the time you spent with him, it became more clear that Jake was what you’d been waiting for the whole time, but now you were facing a whole new challenge; being vulnerable enough to let him show you the ropes.

Every so often, curiosity got the best of you, and you let your eyes linger on him a little too long when he was shirtless, and an unfamiliar feeling would blossom in your stomach. He would move a certain way, or his hand would move a little too far up your thigh, and you would be plagued with temptation to touch him. He would wear certain clothes that would drive you crazy when you looked at him for long enough, and it was becoming harder to ignore every single day. He was what you wanted, and it was so difficult to feel that way when you felt paralyzed at the thought of progressing any further. Jake was driving you crazy, and he wasn’t even doing it intentionally; he was just existing, and that was enough to push you closer and closer to the edge.

Like when he would stretch, and a peek of his tanned stomach would be visible, showing you his treasure trail and a slight hint of a v-line, or when he was sleeping so soundly and turned on to his side to pull you to his chest. The feeling of his body against yours was intense, and the longer he held you to him, he more turned on he would get. An ache would begin between your legs as he slept soundly behind you, his erection pressing into your ass. He wouldn’t even realize it, but he would pull you closer to relieve the ache and give him some much needed friction. You would let it play out; you enjoyed it so much, but you could not seem to voice that to him while he was awake. When he woke and realized the extent of his actions, he apologized profusely while you continued to imagine what it would be like if he kept going, pulling your shorts down just enough to give himself access to you.

You imagined what it would feel like as he rested himself against your entrance, speaking softly in your ear as he talked you through it. How he would put his fingers in his mouth, collecting enough spit to lubricate them before his hand drifted between your thighs. You wondered what it would feel like for his fingers to be tracing around your clit instead of your own, how excited he would be just from touching you alone. Your skin tingled at the thought of his rough fingertips gently working at you as he whispered encouragement in your ear, eventually working you up enough to add his cock to you, too. The picture of him being inside you was too much to bear, and just the thought of feeling so close to him was intoxicating. You had to force a smile on your face while apologized, assuring him you were alright while you thought of all of the filthy things that he could be doing to you. You wanted it so bad, but when you finally found enough courage to ask that of him, the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

When he would leave for errands, or when he would go to work in the mornings, you would think back on the incidents that caused the flutter in your belly. The longer you focused on it, the more uncomfortable you became. You would work yourself up to the point of no return, and you would have to relieve yourself before Jake got back. In your shared bed, you would let your hand slip between your legs as you thought of all of the things Jake did to you without even knowing it. It wouldn’t take long until you were a mess, muttering his name as you reached a climax that was stronger than any you’d ever felt before.

It was almost routine, now. You were so needy that every time Jake stepped out for a moment, you would have to take the time and get yourself off. It was the only way you could keep up with the temptations without having to open up to him about it. He would come home, and you would smile and kiss him as if your fingers hadn’t just been playing with your own cunt while you imagined it was him doing it, instead.

This small ritual was exactly what happened on that specific day; you had grown so comfortable with it that when Jake left for the studio in the morning, you couldn’t wait to finish your household chores so you could cut straight to the point. You kissed him goodbye, wishing him a good day, and watched as he walked to his car, guitar case in his hand as he blew a kiss to you over his shoulder. The jeans he was wearing were tight, hugging every inch of his legs and showcasing every small detail to you. The denim sat nicely over his ass, and unfortunately for you, every other part of him that you tried your best not to think about. His shirt was old, the button up beginning to fray at the sleeves and the fabric becoming thin and worn. He had the last two buttons done, but left the top open as always. The soft, tanned skin of his chest made your mouth water and your stomach twist with desire. You did not know how much longer you could hold yourself back.

He got in his car and drove away, but you stayed at the door, watching the now empty space for a moment longer while you collected your thoughts. You were so worked up that your cheeks were burning and your heart was thudding dramatically against your chest. You forced yourself to shower, taking some extra time to shave and really make yourself feel good. You did the dishes, and you grabbed something to eat, and you wondered if you might be able to curb the urge that day. Once you were away from him and busy with other things, the need seemed so much smaller.

As you sat down to eat, you knew that it was absolutely impossible to ignore such a feeling, because the minute your mind was left without a distraction, Jake was the only thing it wanted to focus on. You forced your lunch into you, remembering that Jake said his day at the studio might be a little longer than the last. You had ample time to really draw the whole experience out, so that’s what you did. When you made it to your bedroom, you knew you had about an hour until he was home again. You took off your clothes, put on some music, only quietly so you could hear if the front door opened, you turned off the lights, and you laid on his side of the bed. You closed your eyes, breathing slowly as you remembered the morning the two of you spent together. It started sweet, like always.

You woke up with Jake next to you, the scent of his shampoo lingering in the sheets as the soft sounds of his snores filled your ears. You looked back over your shoulder at him, smiling as you admired the peaceful expression on his face. He was shirtless, as always, only a pair of boxers on as the comforter covered up his lower half. You watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, and his stomach, too. You knew you shouldn’t have looked for so long, because the longer you stared, the more curious you became. You reached out, settling your hand on his stomach gently, a little lower than you usually would. You let your fingers drift over the skin, sending a light tickle through him. He tensed slightly at the feeling, but did not wake. After a few seconds, he woke up just enough to realize it was you touching him.

He moved onto his side, draping an arm over your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Every morning went the same, and you looked forward to it every day. He guided you into him, resting your back against his bare chest. His warmth was comforting, and you wished to live in the moment forever. His hand that was wrapped around you drifted underneath your shirt, resting on your stomach as he brought you even closer to him. The curve of your ass fit perfectly against his hips and his nose was brushing against your shoulder. His head was buried in the crook of your neck as he placed a gentle kiss on it. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine and you closed your eyes. He seemed more awake than he usually was, but not completely aware.

You brought your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his own. Once you felt like he’d drifted off to sleep again, you guided his hand upwards even further, so it was resting on your rib cage just below your breast. You wanted to take it further, but instead, you pushed your ass back into him a little. In his sleepy state, the small feeling prompted a physical reaction. His breathing quickened, but he didn’t move any further. For a moment, you had to question if he was awake too, or if he was stuck in a dream about the exact position you were laying in. His rough fingertips against your skin was intoxicating, and you needed more, but you were too afraid to wake him and tell him so.

You moved your hips against him again, feeling his fingers tighten against you. His knuckles brushed against the underside of your breast, and even in a sleeping state, he could recognize that feeling from anywhere. On his own, he moved his hand up further, cupping it in his palm as his head nuzzled further into your neck. Your breath caught in your throat and that familiar feeling began to pulse in the pit of your stomach. His grip grew stronger, and for a moment, you really did believe that he was awake. His thumb drifted over your hardened nipple, causing your hips to move against him again.

You could feel his erection growing against you, becoming more noticeable as each second passed. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the ache begin to make itself known. Your breathing sped, and your heart pounded against your chest. His hand stayed on your chest for only a moment until a small noise escaped him, his own need showing even while he was asleep. His hand traveled down your body, landing on your hip as he pulled you back on him. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to keep yourself quiet. You bit down on your lip, scared to make a sound in case he woke and the moment ended.

His fingers held you tightly as he pulled you back on to him, his cock painfully hard as his hips moved against your ass. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable, and you could only imagine that he was feeling the same type of desperation amidst his dreams. Then, as your heart raced, you heard him whisper your name so delicately that a shiver ran down your spine. He wasn’t just dreaming of sex; he was dreaming of you.

Instead of focusing on what came after, when he woke up with embarrassment written in his features and apologies on his tongue, you pretended what it would be like if you had the courage to tell him to keep going. As you thought of it, you let your hand slip between your thighs. You were already aching for relief, your arousal pooling and showing you just how bad you needed him. You let your middle finger begin tracing slow circles around your clit as your mind clung to thoughts of Jake and just how much you wanted him to take care of you.

You imagined his dark eyes growing heavy as he woke, apologizing being the last thing on his mind. You imagined the desperation in his movement as his fingers dipped below your shorts, moving back from you only for long enough to pull them down over your ass. You thought about how good it would feel to have his hand drift to your cunt, relieving the ache that he’d become so good at causing. You didn’t want him to ask if it was okay, or for any type of permission. You wanted him to have you however he wanted, and you would just be thankful that he was giving you anything at all.

“How does that feel, Angel?” He asked, his voice raspy and rough from sleep as his fingers trace around your aching clit. “Does that feel good? Is this what you want?”

“F-fuck, yes, Jake.” You whine, moving your hips forward to meet his hand, so needy and he barely even touched you yet.

“Just want me to take care of you, baby? Need me to show you how good I can make you feel?” His normally sweet and doting personality was gone, replaced with an animalistic desire after waiting so long to have you. You could feel his cock pressing into your ass, still aching to be touched. He needed you so bad that it was impossible to hide it. “You know I’ll always take care of you, sweet girl… give you anything you want.”

“Y-you, Jake. I want you.” You pleaded, feeling yourself clench around nothing. You wanted him so badly, and you weren’t sure if you could wait any longer.

“You want me, sweetheart?” He crooned, the sound of your desperation sending a shiver down his spine. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes please,” you plead, feeling your stomach twist with pleasure.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he whispered, his tone resembling a growl. He drew his hand from you, pulling his boxers down just enough to free himself. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting on it and stroking himself for a few moments. He moved his hips forward, resting the tip of his cock against your entrance. “How bad do you want it, sweetheart.” His low tone settled deep in your bones, making your entire body quiver.

“So bad, Jake. I need you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath stuck in your throat as you feel him push inside of you.

You worked yourself up to the point of absolute desperation. You felt like you were on the brink of insanity, your skin was on fire and your mind was a mess with thoughts of the boy you were so in love with. You were so deep in the fantasy that you could feel it, as if he was in front of you, touching you and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You were sweating, your heart racing and your stomach twisted into knots. You needed to let go, but more than that, you needed him.

Little to your knowledge, Jake was unlocking the front door, a sneaky smile on his face as a bouquet of flowers was held tightly in his hand. He’d been planning this all week; coming home from the studio early to surprise you, just to see the look on your face. He’d been working more often than usual as of late, and he felt like he wasn’t spending enough time with you. He’d specifically told you he’d be later than he actually would be, just so he wouldn’t ruin the element of shock. When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he expected to be greeted by you soon after. His confusion grew as he looked to the kitchen and did not see you there. Next, he checked the living room, wondering if you were curled up on the couch reading a book.

When he couldn’t find you there, he figured the only other place you would be is the bedroom. Your car was outside, and you hadn’t mentioned having to run any errands that day. He took to the stairs, wondering if you decided to take a nap or watch a movie in bed. As he climbed to the top of the stairs, he noticed the soft drift of music through the door. He smiled to himself, knowing he would find you wrapped up in blankets and dozing away the day. He could curl up next to you, holding you close while you slept, and maybe even fall asleep beside you. As he reached the door, he was about to reach out and turn the knob, but he froze in his tracks.

An unfamiliar, incredibly enticing sound reached his ears. It was muffled, barely heard over the speaker and through the closed door, but he caught it. Instead of interrupting, he waited and listened, wondering if his ears were deceiving him. He moved his head closer to the door, nearly pressing his ear against the hollow wood as he strained to hear, trying to piece together the situation.

You were so lost in your own little world that you did not hear the door open downstairs, nor did you hear his footsteps in the hallway. You were so close to an orgasm that not much could distract you from it. Your eyes were shut, your breathing labored as you pictured how softly his hands would drift over the curves of your hips, and how intoxicating his tongue on your skin would feel. You thought of the sweet words rolling off his tongue, the imaginary praise and encouragement driving you even closer to a climax. He would be so sweet, so attentive and caring, and you knew he’d make you feel better than you ever had before. You couldn’t help it, the moans falling from your lips were obscene and his name was delicately mixed within them as if he was in there with you, causing the pleasure himself.

He listened carefully, his cheeks flushing with pleasure at the sound of pleasure stuck on your lips. Desire filled him, running all the way from his throat down to his stomach. It made his chest burn and his skin tingle with excitement. In an instant, he’d forgotten about the romantic gesture and the flowers in his hand; he was only focused on wanting to be the reason those sounds were laced around your tongue. He didn’t want to interrupt, and he feared that if he opened the door, he would embarrass you to death. He worried about overstepping, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but the sounds were so beautiful that it made his head spin. He tried to force himself to stop listening, fearing he was breaching your trust and invading your privacy, but he couldn’t will himself to walk away.

He was growing increasingly frustrated as he stood and listened, his heart pounding against his chest and his whole body aching with desire. He could feel himself growing more turned on, his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans as his own desperation became stronger. He palmed himself through the fabric, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He knew he should walk away, leave you alone to finish up and go take care of his own problem. It was the right thing to do, and he knew that, but the idea of you touching yourself, possibly to the thought of him, was so enticing.

Just as he thought he could find the strength to walk away, he heard the sound, so gentle and loving that he could not withstand it any longer.

“Oh god, Jake.” You whined, the sound floating through the door and settling deep in his chest. “Jake…”

It was too much for him. His hand shot out, clasping around the doorknob as he gently pushed it open. The light flooded the room, illuminating you laying so intimately on his side of the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, blotchy with red patches. A thin layer of sweat had formed over your body, only making you all the more beautiful to him. Your lips were parted, his name still caught on your tongue as your hand was settled between your legs, working intently at your cunt. Your head turned to the side, your eyes wide with shock as you tried to process the sudden change in the situation. You were so caught up in pleasure that your hand didn’t even move away from your clit as you locked eyes with him.

Suddenly, your brain seemed to catch up with the situation, and embarrassment began to take over. You panicked, scrambling to move your hand away and cover yourself with the blanket, but he took a step closer and shook his head, speaking lowly to you.

“Don’t be shy, Angel.” He rasped, looking down over you with dark eyes. The man before you seemed to be a stranger, nothing like he was in the morning before he left, but in the best possible way. The calm, domineering tone was so different, but it was fantastic all in the same. He looked down at you, his lips curled into a slight smirk as he stood over you at the foot of the bed. The desire he’d been holding back for so long seemed to be coming to the surface. He couldn’t help himself, and a part of you was thankful for it. “Don’t stop, sweetheart. You can put on such a good show.” His eyes lingered over your face, watching you closely to see if you were uncomfortable. Instead of discomfort, you seemed curious, excited, even.

And you were. You didn’t intend for the situation to turn into this, but perhaps it was the best possible outcome. You had been so afraid to have sex with Jake, and for reasons that were completely irrelevant. He was the man you’d fallen so deeply in love with, and someone you wanted to share this part of you with, too. Him walking in on you allowed you to avoid the awkward conversations and nervous stuttering, because you were already worked up to the point of no return. This made the part you were dreading so much easier, and the look in his eye made you feel foolish for ever thinking he wouldn’t love your body just as much as he loved your heart. Something in his expression told you that he would give you all of the direction you needed if you allowed him to do so.

Slowly, you pushed the blanket away from your body, returning your hand to its earlier position. You continued holding his gaze as you brought your middle finger back to your clit, tracing slow circles while he gave you a smile of satisfaction.

“So this is what you get up to when I’m gone all day?” He asked, his tone low and gravelly. He was so overcome with lust that it was impossible to think of anything else. “As soon as I leave, you come up here and play with that pretty little cunt, without me?” His expression was stern, his jaw tense as his teeth clenched together. You could see his cock strained against his pants, and the fact that he was really standing before you rather than existing in your imagination was making the pleasure all the more intense. His words were filthy, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to scare you. You’d been fantasizing about words like that coming from his mouth since the first day you met him.

“Y-yeah,” you nod, stuttering slightly. He didn’t care, nor did he notice, anyway. Your embarrassment was growing smaller with every passing second, and the desire in his eyes made the whole thing seem less terrifying. To see him want you so badly made your stomach twist into knots. He gave you a small smile at the word, happy to see that you weren’t shutting him out. The small expression was enough encouragement for you to keep going.

“Do you think of me, Angel?” He asked, his gaze flickering down to your hand, working carefully to build yourself back up to an orgasm. “Do you wish that I was here doing it, instead?” He asked, reaching one hand down to his cock, adjusting himself in his pants to make it more comfortable while he watched. Your eyes were fixated on his hand, cheeks red at the thought. You wanted to see more, but you weren’t sure what to do next. You were so out of your comfort zone, but something about being able to do it with Jake made it all the more easier. “Come on, baby. Talk to me.” His voice was softer, now, showing you that he was willing to help you through it.

“I-I do,” you nod, catching his eye again. Somewhere in his pupil, he was trying to tell you that it was okay, and you believed it.

“You want to show me what you do when I’m not here?” He asked, gauging your comfort level with his questions.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathe, nodding again. He gave you another smile, licking his lips slightly. To see him look at you in such a way was almost too much to resist. Instead of jumping straight into it, you let him talk you through it, slowly and steadily.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Just like that.” He said, watching as your hand worked at your cunt. “Then, once you finish, maybe I can show you what it’s like when someone else does it for you.” He posed it like a statement, but he was asking for permission. He needed to touch you so badly, but only if you wanted him to.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, excited at the thought. You were already so close to the edge, spending the last half an hour working yourself up to a climax. The intrusion slowed down your progress, but definitely did not stop it completely. As you finger drifted over your clit, your stomach was burning with the familiar feeling, but it seemed so much more intense than before now that he was watching you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you could feel the pull of pleasure again, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breathing.

“That’s it, baby. Doing such a good job for me.” He said, but it was strained. He wanted to be the one driving you crazy, and it was nearly torture having to watch you and not touch you. You try to hold your moans back, scared to embarrass yourself, but he thought that your state was all but shameful. He thought you were gorgeous, and he felt so lucky to be able to see you like this at all. ���Let me hear those pretty noises again, sweet girl.” He pleaded, taking a step closer to the bed. “Don’t be shy with me.” At his permission, your lips parted and a soft moan filled the air. The sound alone nearly drove him to insanity. He watched you carefully, noticing as the muscles in your stomach tensed with every wave of pleasure. He wanted to remember the way you looked in that moment forever.

You were so close to an orgasm, and the desperation was evident in your movements and your voice. He needed it like the starving needed food, and he couldn’t wait much longer. He leaned down over you on the bed, letting his hand drift over your exposed thigh, the touch light but electric.

“Fuck, Jake.” You expressed your thoughts, feeling the pleasure pulsing under your skin and throughout your entire body.

“Look at me, baby.” He said, wanting you to open your eyes. You did as he said, catching the warm brown of his irises and feeling the warmth flood you. Your breath caught in your throat, and your muscles constricted. You were so close, and him looking at you in such a way made it all the more intense. “Let go,” he hummed, giving you a smile. His eyes were heavy and his chest was heaving with every breath. “Come for me, Angel.” And you did, your limbs trembling as the pleasure took hold. You’d never felt like that in your entire life, and it was so intense that it made your head spin and your chest burn. You didn’t think it was possible to feel such a way, but as you looked into Jake’s eyes, you knew it was all because of him. “That’s my girl.” He sighed, leaning down and pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh.

The feeling made you melt into his touch, his lips so delicate against your warm skin. You wanted more; suddenly, your own hand wasn’t enough. You needed him to do it for you, to feel what it was like when he touched you. You reached down, cupping his cheek in your hand as you let your thumb drift over his cheek. He hummed against you, still focused on the feeling of your thigh against his mouth. The longer he left them there, kissing a trail upwards, the sloppier he became. He sucked light marks into the delicate skin as his hand found your hip, pulling you down on the mattress towards him. He wanted you to feel admired, to know how strongly he felt for you. He wanted you to know that the situation did not have to be scary, and he only wanted to make you feel good. He was there for you, and his pleasure came second to all of your needs.

You watched him as he did all he could to showcase his admiration. You were still aching to be touched, the orgasm you had given yourself long gone and barely enough to keep you satisfied. You needed to feel him, you needed him to bring you to such pleasure, and you couldn’t believe you waited so long to feel him like this.

“Are you okay with this, baby?” He asked, looking up to you with his eyes nearly closed from the weight of lust in his stare.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “I’m… I'm okay.”

“You tell me if you need me or want me to stop, okay?” He ordered, settling on his stomach between your legs. “Even if you just want me to slow down… I need you to tell me, sweetheart. Can you do that?” You hummed a response of agreement, but he didn’t move any further. “I need to hear the words, honey.”

“I will, Jake. I promise.” He gave you a soft smile, looking over your face to search for any discomfort. When he saw only excitement, he brought his own hand between your legs. Carefully, he brought his fingers to you, gathering your arousal on his fingers before bringing them to your clit. The feeling was foreign, but as soon as his fingers landed on the sensitive bundle of nerves, the unfamiliarity quickly became obsolete. His rough, calloused fingertips moved slowly over you as his eyes stayed on your face. It was immediately pleasant, way more so than your own hands doing the work.

“How’s that, Angel?” He hummed, his eyes flickering down to his hand that was working at you. His mouth watered from the sight, but he held himself back from going any further until you were comfortable.

“S-so good.” You whined, looking down at his face. The sight of his eyes fixated on your cunt made your stomach burn with desire. All of the fear you felt before was gone; you should have known better than to think Jake would view you as anything other than gorgeous.

“You want me to keep going?” He asked, looking back up at you.

“Yes, please.” You breathed, nodding at him. He gave you a smile, adding a little more pressure to his thumb. The sensation caused you to move your hips down on his hand, searching for more. He kept the pace for a moment, before sliding his thumb in place of his middle finger. He rested his middle and index finger against your entrance, waiting to see your reaction before doing anything else.

“Is this okay?”

“G-god, yes.” You nodded, still sensitive from your first orgasm. Everything he was doing felt fantastic, and you never wanted him to stop. Before going any further, he leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from his lips to his fingers, making sure that it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for you. You watched, feeling a flutter of emotion rush to your core at the sight. He gave you a small smirk, noticing the reaction. Slowly, he added one finger first, wanting you to grow comfortable with the feeling before going any further. Once he knew you were alright, he added a second.

“There you go, beautiful.” He smiled, noticing your eyebrows furrow with pleasure as a moan fell from your lips. Gently, he pumped his fingers into you a few times, spitting on his hand once again to lubricate them further. “God, you have no idea how much I thought about doing this.” He muttered, more to himself than you.

“Y-you… you think about this?” You asked, your cheeks turning red at the thought.

“Think about it?” He nearly scoffed. “Baby, I dream about it.” He corrected, curling his fingers upwards slightly as his thumb brushed over your clit. You let out a sharp breath, the feeling unfamiliar but incredibly pleasant. “I think about making you feel good, and about how pretty I knew you would look while you cum…” he trailed off, driving himself crazy at his own words. “About how good you’d taste, and how good you’d feel…” he cut himself off, realizing he might be too obscene for you at the moment. You looked down at him, almost as if you were pleading with him to keep going. The knowledge that he thought about you the same way you thought about him made your heart skip a beat. “How good you’d feel wrapped around my cock.” He finished, stronger and more confident. He could feel your walls clench around his finger at the sound of his words.

“I think about you, too, Jake.” You confessed, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back on the pillow. The pleasure was more intense than anything you’d felt before, and his words were making it all the more satisfying.

“Yeah? You think about me touching you like this?” He paused his thoughts, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Such a dirty little thing.” He teased, smiling up at your blushed face. “I love it.” He made sure that you knew that more than anything else. “How does this feel, gorgeous?”

“It feels so good, Jake.” You assure him, hoping that he won’t stop.

“Can I try something?” He asks, leaning down and pressing a few more kisses into your thighs.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You nod, unsure of what he had in mind, but trusting him more than anything.

“M’gonna use my mouth, okay?” He said, scanning your face. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, excited at the prospect.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay Angel?”

“Okay.” You nod, your eyes fixated on him as he moved closer to your heat. He moved his thumb from your clit, but you barely have time to mourn the loss before his mouth was on you and his tongue was doing the work, instead. “Oh, fuck.” You whine, reaching down and tangling your hand in his hair. The feeling was more intense, and definitely more powerful. The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue was like heaven, and so unlike anything you’d felt before. He barely started and you could feel your walls fluttering against his fingers. You were bordering another orgasm, and you weren’t sure how much you could take before you let go.

His tongue moved carefully, but with intent. It drifted over your clit, savoring any bit of arousal still left on you. His eyes were closed as his hips moved down on the mattress, the friction barely relieving the ache of his cock, but making it a little more bearable. Your breathing was shallow, and the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair was driving him crazy. He pumped his fingers into you as his tongue worked at you, curling his fingers slightly every time he re-entered. The different types of stimulation was not overwhelming, but just enough as they worked together to push you to the edge.

“Fuck, Jake.” You whined. He hummed against you, showing you how much he was enjoying the sound. The vibration ran through you, tightening the knot in your stomach. You were so close, and your skin was tingling with pleasure. “I think… think m’gonna cum, baby.” You warned. He did not pull away, instead he made his movements more pronounced, needing it more than he needed anything more in his entire life. Your mind was flooded with desire for him, and you could only whimper his name.

He was making you feel better than you ever had before, and you were so in love with him at that moment. You couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather be doing this with, and you felt so comfortable and loved. He adored you, and he was coaxing you so gently to a climax that it was hard to feel any fear or anxiety about it. He was so gentle and kind, his touch soft and his words sweet. He wanted you to get the most out of it, and more than anything, he wanted to make your first time special. He waited so long for this moment, and now that it was here, he was doing everything in his power to make sure you enjoyed it.

The orgasm washed over you hard, making your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Your fingers tightened around the stands of his hair, and you moaned his name as the pleasure took over. The obscenities falling from your lips painted the walls, burying the memory in the room until the end of time. You felt so good that you forgot how to breathe, and your head felt light. As the intensity died down and you relaxed against him, he began to taper his movements off until he came to a complete stop. As you caught your breath, he pulled back from you and looked up at your face. His eyes were heavy, and lust was hanging thick in the air. He needed you, and he did not have to say it aloud; you could feel it.

As he straightened up, his chin was glistening in the dim light, your orgasm lingering on his skin to remind you of the moment. “How was that, beautiful?” He asked, his voice husky. Your mind was still hazy as you admired his face, watching as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

“So, so good, baby.” You sighed, giving him a lazy smile.

“You want to keep going?” He asked, standing from the bed. You admired him, shirtless and standing over you. Your head was swimming with joy and your skin was ablaze with desire for him. You made it this far, and you wanted to go all the way. You were more than ready to take the step with him, especially after he was so caring and loving with you just moments before.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, giving him a smile. He returned the expression, slowly undoing his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops. His discarded it on the floor, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. You felt like you were holding your breath as you waited for him to undress, feeling excitement begin to build within you. He slipped out of his jeans, kicking them to the side. Then, he looked at you, making sure you were okay before he took off his boxers. He saw the admiration in your eyes, and it made his stomach flutter with adoration.

“You want me, sweet girl?” He whispered, his jaw tense as he watched you look at him in wonder.

“Yes, please.” You nod, waiting for him to advance further. He gave you a soft smile, pulling off his boxers and throwing them to the side. When he straightened up, your breath caught in your throat. He was stunning. The discreet toned muscles in his abdomen that were so often hidden by clothes took your breath away. The soft v-line leaning down from his hips was delicious, and you could feel the arousal begin to grow once more. When he stepped closer, the light seemed to shine on him a little more. You could see all of him, and he was breathtaking.

His cock was painfully hard, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum, and it was so enticing. Seeing all of him was something so special, and you almost regretted not doing it sooner. He kneeled before you on the bed, settling between your legs as he smiled down at you. “Hi, gorgeous.” He hummed, his expression sweet and his eyes showing you nothing but love.

“Hi,” you grinned, feeling excitement overtake all of the anxiety. He reached to the other side of the bed, grabbing a pillow.

“Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.” He said. You did as he told you, and he slid the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a little more comfortable.” He promised, leaning down and bracing his arm beside your head. He gave you a stupid smile that told you how enthusiastic he was. You couldn’t help but smile back, finding his joy infectious. He leaned a little further down, capturing you in a kiss. You melted into the feeling, so relieved at the comfortable and familiar feeling after so many new sensations. You closed your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand to hold him to you. You wanted to live in the moment with him forever.

He didn’t rush you, kissing you softly for as long as you needed. It was messy, but it was beautiful. His teeth pulled your bottom lip between them, teasing you slightly. You smiled against him, finding the playfulness soothing. “I love you, Jake.” You mumble against his lips.

“I love you so much, Angel.” He whispers, looking down over your face. “I think you’re the most beautiful thing in the whole world, you know that right?” Your cheeks burn red, but you can’t hold back your smile. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you.” You sigh, your chest aching with the amount of love you have for him.

“Thank you for trusting me, y/n.” His voice is full of emotion now. The lust took the back burner, second to his love and appreciation for you.

“Thank you for being someone I can trust.” He smiled at your words, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more.

“Are you ready? If not, I can wait.” He assured you.

“I am.” You promised. “I’m ready.” He gave you another kiss, biting back another smile. He felt giddy with you, like it was his first time again, too. The strength in which he felt for you nearly brought him to his knees. He leaned back, looking down over your body with a look on his eyes you weren’t sure he’d ever seen before. It was so full of emotion that it made your stomach twist into knots. He spit into his hand, stroking himself before lining himself up with your entrance. He looked to you for approval, and you gave a slight nod of your head.

“It might be a little uncomfortable, so just tell me if it is, okay? Just want you to feel good, baby.”

“I will.” His concern with your pleasure was driving you crazy. He guided your legs around him and waited for a moment, giving you the chance to change your mind. When you said nothing, he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

The feeling was different, but not unpleasant. It took a moment to get used to it as he fully buried himself in you. He paused before moving any further, looking to see if you were okay. You couldn’t help but notice how full you felt, how well he fit with you, and how right it felt. You caught his eye, letting out a little sigh of satisfaction. The small sound nearly pushed him over the edge as he sat, completely still inside of you. His cock twitched slightly, the knowledge that you were enjoying him sending him feral.

“You want to wait, or do you want me to keep going?”

“Keep going, please.” You breathed, wanting more. He gave you a small smile, moving his hips ever so slightly. You tended slightly, adjusting to the feeling, but as he continued, it began to grow more comfortable. Soon after, prickles of pleasure started to ignite your skin. “Oh, Jake.” You sigh, letting your head fall back on the pillow. “That feels… so good.” His jaw clenched at your words, thrilled at your enjoyment.

“Yeah? You like it, baby?” He asked, reaching down and letting his fingers dust over your bare stomach. They trailed all the way to your chest as he cupped your breast in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb toyed with your nipple, the small sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

“I do,” you breathe, nodding your head.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered to himself. “You feel so fucking good, angel. Doing so good for me.” Your walls clenched around him as he spoke, drawing him in further. He wasn’t moving very fast, but the feeling was more than enough. It was exactly what you’d been waiting for, even if you didn’t realize it before. Slowly, he began to pick up the pace, unable to hold himself back any longer. “Tell me if you need me to slow down, baby.”

“I will,” you moaned, feeling the intensity begin to build in your belly again. “God, Jake. F-faster, please.” You pleaded. He let out a groan, resembling more of a growl than anything else. He grabbed your hips, pulling you down towards him a little further. His thrusts sped, and he put a little more force behind his movements. He looked down, watching how your bodies fit together, feeling a whole new sense of desire as your hips met his with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He groaned, leaning down and pulling you into a kiss. He’d waited so long to feel you like this, and he was afraid he might not be able to hold himself back.

“Fuck, Jake.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. His hands on your hips felt so good, his fingers burning into you in the most intoxicating way. You felt better than you ever did before, and you never wanted to stop feeling that way. He was so enchanting, and everything he was doing was euphoric. You felt like you were melting into him, both of you becoming one as the fire burned in your hearts.

“Need you to cum for me one more time, angel. Just one more.” He pleaded, pulling you down on him as he thrusted into you. The angle he was hitting was intoxicating, pulling you in further with every move of his hips. His lips met your again in a heated kiss, your chests heaving as the intensity continued to consume you. Your stomach was twisted in knots and your forehead was glistening with sweat. Your whole body felt like it was ablaze with pleasure, and you needed more than he could give.

He pulled back from you, his hips still keeping a steady pace as his hand reached between you, circling around your clit once again. The second sensation to hold with a fervent appetite, consuming you entirely and making it impossible to think of anything else. His fingers on you and his cock filling you up was pushing you to euphoria, and your vision began to blur. Your mind was hazy as you tried to focus on his face, wondering how you got so lucky to be with someone so beautiful.

“You think you can give me one more, beautiful?” He asked, his voice shaking as he spoke. He was holding himself back to make sure you were pleased, but the idea of him being such a mess for you was driving you even closer to insanity. The most pleasurable part of the whole thing was knowing how good he felt, and how much he loved pleasing you.

“Y-yeah,” you managed a nod, looking up at him with desperate eyes. Your muscles were tightening as you tensed, preparing for the wave of pleasure about to wash over you. The burning in the pit of your stomach was familiar now, and you knew that he was the only one who knew how to get you there.

“Cum for me, baby.” He said, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with precision. Your legs locked around him began to tremble, and your breathing was ragged. You were so close, and you needed it. More than that, you needed him to cum at the same time.

“Cum with me, please.” You pleaded, admiring the look of pleasure twisting his expression. He let out a groan at your words, his eyebrows knitting together as his hair hung down over his face. You’d never seen Jake look so ethereal before, and it was driving you mad.

“That’s what you want, angel? That will make you happy?”

“Please, Jake.” You said, reaching up and clasping your fingers around his bicep.

“Anything for my girl,” he muttered, his head falling back as he let out a string of curses. He even made the obscenities sound beautiful. You watched as the columns of his neck tightened and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, sweat dripping delicately down across his skin. Strands of hair stuck to the damp skin, framing him in a picture you wished to burn into your mind until the end of time.

The climax hit you hard, and you clenched around him, crying his name as you felt the pleasure fill you completely. He didn’t have time to nurture you through it, because at the same time, his orgasm washed over him. As you rode out the high, his hips stuttered and a breathy moan fell from his lips. He spilled his release inside of you, the feeling so addicting that it forced you into another wave of pleasure. Heavy breathing was the only sound in the room, and after the intensity began to fade, Jake leaned down and wrapped you in his arms. Without withdrawing from you, he turned on his back and pulled you on top of him. With a giggle, you landed comfortably in his arms with a smile so wide it made your cheeks ache.

You rested your head on his chest, your skin still tingling with the ghost of your orgasm. You placed a kiss to the skin, feeling his heart thud against his ribcage. His hand trailed down your back, his fingers tickling you slightly as he traced shapes into your skin. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you didn’t need to; the whole world felt perfect.

“How was that, angel?” He asked, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear. You grinned down at him, unable to put your thoughts into words. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great, Jake.” You assured him, leaning into the touch of his hand.

“You’re not hurt, are you? I wasn’t too rough?” His hand shot to your hip as he looked down, trying to see if he left any marks on you. He was panicking, worried that he hadn’t taken good enough care of you. The last thing he wanted was for you to be in pain.

“It was perfect, my love. It was better than I could have ever imagined.” You promised, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips. He relaxed against you, feeling better at the sound of your words.

“So… it was good? You… you liked it?” He said, his own nerves getting the best of him. You could feel him start to go soft inside of you, but neither of you cared to move. You laid together, smiling in bliss at the moment.

“It was phenomenal… I had a fantastic time.” You said, blushing slightly. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, beautiful.” He pulled your head down so he could place a kiss to your forehead. “It was my pleasure.”

“I do, though. Thank you for being patient, and thank you for caring enough to wait it out. And… thank you for making my first time so special. I’ve always been kind of… afraid, I guess, and you made it so easy.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you, angel. You’re my biggest priority, and I just want to make sure you’re happy and comfortable, and I want you to have a good time.”

“I had such a good time.” You smiled, laying your head on his chest again. “Do you… you think maybe we can do it again, soon?” His grip tightened on you as he let out a small chuckle.

“Sweetheart, we can do it whenever you want. All you have to do is say the word.” He promised.

“I love you so much, Jake.” You whisper, pressing another kiss to his chest with a smile on your lips.

“You have no idea how much I love you, sweetheart.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

[daistea]

𝕃𝕒𝕚𝕠𝕤 𝕩 𝕘𝕟 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 -

ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

2,300 words

post-canon - spoilers

no tws

You are being courted by the literal King of Melini. 

And he is only half aware of it. 

Laios is not oblivious concerning certain matters. However, his understanding of courting and romance are limited. It’s not an issue of intelligence, but rather his investment in the subject. He has relative awareness of what’s appropriate when dealing with a friend. He does not know how other people will interpret his actions with someone he fancies. Unfortunately, people notice him now more than ever. 

 Laios was considering the possibility of running away. 

 It was a feeling that he hadn’t experienced in years. Ever since entering the dungeon, the urge to run away had become rarer. Laios didn’t particularly seek out challenges, but he found ways to handle them. Callouses from the hilt of a sword and the stale air of underground cities had taught him the importance of standing his ground. Dragons, mad sorcerers, canaries, lions with wings and the all-consuming desire for desire— he didn’t run away despite his years of doing so before. 

 How odd that the fate of the world did not scare him away, yet rumors of his relationship with you were enough to turn him into a hermit. 

 “You haven’t made a public appearance in days.”

 Laios lifted his head to meet Marcille’s stare. She wasn’t smiling, but whether her frown was supposed to be a pout or a scowl, he couldn’t tell. He sat up straight and let his feet hit the floor, suddenly self-conscious of how he’d been sitting with his knees to his chest like a kid, scribbling on parchment. 

 “Yeah,” Laios offered a smile of his own, “that isn’t too long, I think. Plenty of people stay inside for days.”

 “Well, by days, I mean two weeks.”

 “Then why’d you say days?”

 “It’s just a— Okay, nevermind,” Marcille shut her eyes and waved a hand, “You haven’t left the palace in two weeks. There have been people showing up that want to see you, and Kabru’s had to be the one to hear out their complaints.”

 What was the issue? Kabru was probably having the time of his life. 

 From an objective level, Laios knew what Marcille was getting at. He was the King of Melini, he should’ve been publicly supporting the people. His recent shut-in behavior didn’t stem from a dislike of the job or his citizens, but rather a desire to hide from something invisible, devastating, and anxiety-inducing. 

 He gripped his parchment tighter, and his feet tapped on the wooden flooring of the palace library. “They want me to take a spouse.”

 Marcille squinted, “Yeah, what’s new? They’ve been wanting that from the very beginning.”

 “They’ve been, uh— I think it’s called shipping? No idea why. They’ve been shipping me and [Name].” Laios felt his cheeks go warm and his throat close up.

 Marcille’s eyes widened, “Oh?” Her voice went into a higher pitch, “You and [Name]? How interesting.” 

 He turned in his chair and gently set his bundle of parchment on the table. Someone, he wasn’t sure who, had very kindly made holes in the corners and tied small leather straps through the holes to make it into something resembling a book. He had the power to just make a real book, but the thought of giving these specific papers to someone else for that process made his stomach hurt. 

 “Yep,” Laios drummed his fingers up and down, one at a time, on the front page of his parchment collection. Looking Marcille in the eye suddenly felt like yanking out each and every hair on his arms for whatever reason. 

 She sighed and stepped further into the library. Closing the door behind her, she then neared his table and slipped into the seat across from him, “You obviously like them. Why not just go for it?”

 That hesitance to look her in the eye instantly disappeared as he met her stare, “I do?”

 “Obviously like them? Yes, you do.”

 Laois stared at the wood grains in the table as if they held the answers. “Huh. I don’t know about that.”

 “You drew a monster-sona for them.”

 In the specific collection of parchment that sat beneath his hands, yes he did draw a monster-sona of them. How she knew about that was a mystery, but all he could do was meet her gaze, excited, “What do you think of it?”

 Marcille’s nose scrunched, “I— I don’t think anything of it! It’s weird that you do that, actually! A normal person doesn’t make monster versions of their friends!”

 It wasn’t weird. In fact, it felt perfectly normal. Laios barely registered her outburst anyway. “I do that with everyone I care about.”

 “Right,” Marcille rested her forehead in one hand, “You do. That’s probably not the best example to use.”

 Your monster-sona was way cooler than the usual sonas he gave his friends, though— and he gave them some pretty cool sonas. Laios assigned the types of monsters and their qualities to each individual person based on what fit them. Or based on what looked the best, it depended on his mood. However, concerning you, he gave you the exact same qualities that he would have as a monster. Then, he drew your monster version and his monster version cuddling in a cave together and starting a monster family, simultaneously creating an entirely new species that would eventually reach the top of the Creature Pyramid. 

 But Marcille didn’t need to know that. 

 “I’m not ready to court anyone,” Laios said with a smile, “but I’ll try making a public appearance soon.”

 “And just ignore the rumors and pressure,” Marcille insisted. 

 “Yeah, I’ll do that,” he nodded, closing his eyes. He’d faced dragons and sorcerers and the literal embodiment of mana. He could handle a rumor or two. 

In his attempt to ignore the rumors and go about his life as he usually would, he unknowingly courts you. 

He enjoys dressing in normal clothes and going into town by himself or with friends. A lot of new restaurants have opened in Melini lately, and he wants to try them with people he loves. Including you. Often, it’s just you and him that go together. 

He makes very little effort to hide his identity. The people of Melini are hard-working and only half of them pay attention to what’s happening at the palace. The people who do recognize him are usually the residents of the Golden Country, and they treat him like an old friend. Any newcomers to the city either have no idea who he is, simply whisper about him from a distance, or awkwardly approach him. 

However, you’re often seen at his side. He looks at you when he says something he thinks is funny, just to see your reaction, your smile. He looks at you when he says something he thinks is smart, to see if you think it’s smart too. He looks at you simply to look at you. 

It’s the advisors and diplomats and delegates who notice this the most. Some people from other countries want to use it to their advantage, but Marcille and Kabru usually keep them in check. 

Laios sends you gifts often. They’re incredibly practical gifts. If he sends flowers, it’s because they have some sort of herbal-type of property that he thinks could be useful. If he sends you books, it’s because he liked them and wanted to share the story with you, so you could talk about it with him later. He sends utensils, interesting snacks, games, anything you could use for your hobbies, etc. 

Word about this only gets out because the palace servants notice and think it’s cute. It endears him to them, helping them forget about his usual blunt and out-of-pocket statements for half a second. 

The servants and other people who know Laios pity you. They often make that clear with how they treat you, as if you’re some saint for putting up with him. He ignores it, usually. With anyone else, he wouldn’t even notice it much. Yet, since it concerns you, he’s a bit more aware of their view about your relationship. He doesn’t particularly care how they see him, but the implication that you’re only close to him out of pity or charity is a bother. 

The original citizens of the Golden Kingdom genuinely like him. They’re grateful, and they accept your presence with open arms. Most of them are already assuming that you’ll be his consort one day. 

Courting from Laios, the King, also includes spending time with him at the palace. He has dogs, so many dogs, and he likes it when you play with them. 

He holds your hand a lot, seemingly at random. Yet, in his mind, it’s not random at all. He’s holding your hand because one of the dogs ran by and nearly knocked into you and you looked like you were about to fall. He’s holding your hand because the ground is muddy and he doesn’t want you to slip. He’s holding your hand because the floor was just mopped and— wait, you shouldn’t walk on the mopped floor, just stand here with him and hold his hand while it dries.

This is very normal. 

“That’s not normal.”

 Laios was starting to wish his friends would knock, or greet him with a ‘hello’ rather than out-of-the-blue statements and observations that flew right over his head. 

 He tangled his fingers with yours, casting you a glance with the intent to see your reaction. You simply looked confused at Kabru’s statement. Waiting for the floor to dry was perfectly normal, polite even. 

 “What’s not normal?” Laios asked as he returned his attention to Kabru. 

 The advisor stood in the doorway with several books nestled in the crook of his arm. He was making a face with some sort of negativity written on it, which was unusual because Kabru was usually very cheerful and polite. He didn’t often step into freshly mopped rooms and make random statements with no context. 

 “For friends,” Kabru sighed, then seemed to gather himself, putting the pieces of his mind back together. “I mean, for you and [Name] to hold hands all the time. Normal friends don’t do that.”

 Laios immediately looked at you for assurance. You shrugged. He looked at Kabru again, “What’s the problem?”

 “There’s no problem.”

 Kabru said it so genuinely, too. Every ounce of the conversation was only making Laios more confused.

 “Then why’d you just—”

 “Have you ever considered that the rumors about you two may be veridical?” Kabru asked. It was barely noticeable, but his voice went up slightly in pitch. He tilted his head and smiled as he held his books closer. There were only a few wet spots left on the floor, catching the light of the candle-covered chandelier hanging overhead. 

 Laios stepped into a dry spot and you followed without question. Your hand didn’t dare leave his, and the realization that you wanted to follow him, that you wanted to hold his hand, made his heart flutter. It felt as if there was a bird in his chest. It beat its wings with the desire to take flight. 

 The mention of the rumors kept the bird grounded, though. “Not really. We’re just friends, and we both know that.”

 “Friends don’t hold hands all the time.”

 “Falin and Marcille hold hands all the time,” Laios said, smiling as if he were proud to back Kabru into a metaphorical corner. 

 Kabru simply stared at him. He looked odd, a bit constipated. You tried to stifle a laugh, and Laios immediately turned his head to look at you, painting the image of your smile in his mind. His brain was an art gallery and you were the theme, the muse. He stared. You stared. Kabru smoothed out the constipated look and turned to leave. The floor was almost dry, but your hand stayed tangled with the King’s. 

Kabru and Marcille stage an intervention. They have the medieval equivalent to a power-point presentation with proof and observations, intended to help Laios realize that he is not just your friend. 

It does not work. 

Falin is visiting and wanders into the room. She takes a seat beside Laios, glances at Kabru and Marcille’s presentation, then innocently asks, “How is [Name]?”

Laios grins and perks up and starts to ramble, gesturing and tilting his head while he shares every thought concerning you.

Falin hums and nods. Eventually, she says, “I’m so happy you’ve fallen in love.”

And she says it so sweetly, too. 

Laios freezes. He presses his palms togethers and brings them to his lips, his eyes wide. Marcille and Kabru are staring. 

Later that night, Laios lays awake in bed and stares at the ceiling. 

He’s in love. 

He apologizes to Kabru and Marcille for all the trouble. Then, goes straight to you, and he takes your hand even though there’s no mud or obstacles or wet floors. As he kisses your knuckles— he saw Kabru do that to a diplomat lady once— it feels like a key unlocking a door. The bird in his chest takes flight when you smile. He is definitely, undeniably, irrevocably, in love.

[neyafromfrance95]

Do you agree that Sauron, who seems to love only himself, is truly in love with Galadriel? Why make her his queen? He doesn't need her unless one can say it's to have dominion over her. No, I think he's in love. It's the only love he will ever feel, forever.

i think the cast & crew pretty much confirmed that sauron indeed loves galadriel.

is he redeemable? no. he is basically that universe's satan. but that's what makes his love for galadriel even more fascinating! it almost defies his nature.

why does he love her? well, i love the writing of the show, specifically for sauron x galadriel bc the answers are sewed into their entire relationship, respective characterization/development. it's in text and subtext.

so the answer would be too long as we'd have to analyze the show throughly 😆

but in short, i'd say it's bc galadriel represents the light that sauron wants to have at his side (mild version) or have an absolute power over (extreme version). it's not exactly "human" kind of love, but rather dark and twisted one.

as we know, the light reflecting galadriel's hair inspired the creation of silmaris that bewitched morgoth.

and i think sauron recognized this light from the moment he met galadriel on that raft and that's why he lookd like he had a revelation.

we can see that sauron is already obsessed with galadriel. to the point of delusion. this lays a groundwork for his persistent groping for her in the 3rd age.

he knows that he is the dark, and there is this intrinsic connection between the dark and the light. they really are the twin flames. and they feel that.

and while at her very core galadriel is the light, she's gotten so familiar with the darkness that the other elves couldn't distinguish her from the evil that sauron represented! now, sauron believes he does good for the world but he himself lacks the light needed to balance the darkness. so i think he believes that just like galadriel can touch the darkness through him, he can touch the light through her.

and he already experienced that! as galadriel, the personification of the light in his eyes, gave him that link to her very being when she let him in!

he believes that galadriel would balance him out, and he wants her to be the ruler in her own right (in reality sauron would turn galadriel into a tyrant tho, imo).

the connection they have is the profoundly unique one that they are only able to establish with one another, so it's like he doesn't want to let go of the only one with whom he feels that.

and another reason why they managed to establish this link (other than the fate bc i do believe the show portrays their bond as the destined, rather mystical one), is bc they opened up to one another, feeling understood for the first time in their lives. yes, sauron didn't tell her who he was, but he still was vulnerable and real around her, not putting on an act. and it's not just that he related and empathized with the one who was hurt by his and morgoth's actions, she inadvertently gave him the forgiveness for that!

one could argue that sauron loves only himself. well, that's the thing, he saw himself in galadriel! it was as if she was his mirror, but maybe even better, more perfect version of him as she had the light he lacked. his mirror, yet the personification of the light itself.

[coralinnii]

I have a request for the villainess AU. For Ace and Deuce, what if it was a love triangle between the MC? I just can’t imagine them being separated because them fighting over the Mc is much funnier!

❋ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy ❋

↳ Love Triangle scenario(?)

feat: Ace and Deuce

genre: humour, budding romance, friends-to-something more?

note: part of the “Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy” series or the Villain/ess au, part of the 2.7k followers event, references to other villain/ess au works (specifically Riddle ver.), Ace + Deuce + reader are old enough to drink, no pronouns used with reader, minor mention of death

I don’t usually do the love triangle trope because real life ones hurt alot and it brings up some bad memories, but I’ll consider it for this, just for y’all~ I genuinely tried but rather than a love triangle, I may have accidentally created a… (seriously was not my intention)

Villain/ess au Series Masterlist

2.7K Followers Writing Event

Before the oath of the sword, the three of you made an oath of your own. One of unquestioned trust and camaraderie. No matter where the string of fate would take either of you, the promise made one drunken night between you, Ace, and Deuce was stronger.

That night was fuelled with unrestrained emotions, with shouting and tears, most coming from you. Especially when you awoke one day with strange visions flooded your dreams, vivid images that spoke of a horrible future for you.

Memories of a strange novel, one that eerily resembles your current world down to each royal family member and even your friends’ lives. But while a hero’s glory awaits your dearest ones, you were left as a tragic minor antagonist.

A mere childhood friend of Ace and Deuce, you became jealous of a former baron’s daughter suddenly turned Queen when she grew close to your friends as her knight escorts. You turned to petty acts in response, spewing nasty rumours among the townfolks of the new Queen but like an angelic protagonist, she revealed your misdeeds but forgave you for your childish taunts. Nevertheless, you lost the respect of your only friends and you were left behind.

But despite the Queen’s pardon, King Riddle heard of your disgraceful behaviour against his beloved and called for your immediate execution, which became the final push for Ace and Deuce to join in the Queen’s rebellion against her own tyrannical husband. Because that’s all you were, a mere catalyst for the story to continue on.

You couldn’t imagine yourself turning into a cliche bully and admittedly, the idea of your untimely demise left you shaking in fear on occasion. But the worst of your premonitory dreams was the predicted end of your friendship.

The looks of disgust and disappointment that painted Ace’s and Deuce’s face seared into your mind, your heart shattering like glass at their wishes to never see you again. The fear of abandonment stings you like a crack in your heart which never healed, it scared you to the point that the moment you saw them happily enjoying the night, you drunkenly cried out.

“I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

Unceremoniously, your body slumped onto the tavern’s table as you blacked out into an alcoholic slumber. How evil of you, conveniently unable to explain what you meant by your slurred confession, or to whom you were referring to.

Ace and Deuce were visibly distracted during their knight training the morning after, one of the few times that they must separate from you. Your words looping over and over in their heads like an endless echo. Your voice pleaded so sincerely with tears cascading down your cheeks.

“What should we do, Ace?” Deuce broke the awkward silence during their water break, finally taking a step to mention the elephant in the room. Your words that resembled a wistful confession struck him with worry (and a hint of budding hope). But unlike him, Ace was quick to look for possible excuses for your actions.

“Don’t be dumb. It was probably just the alcohol talking. Don’t you remember how much we all drank?” The reddish hue of Ace’s cheeks however betrayed his true emotions. In truth, he was just as frazzled by your words as Deuce was. He kept trying to convince himself that you meant nothing by it, to not get his hopes up. But the little devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear, “but what if you did mean something by it?”

Since then, you felt that your time spent with the duo increased since your last outing. Instead of staying back in the knight’s barracks right after training, Ace and Deuce visited your hometown more often that was not the most convenient travel destination. You felt at least one pair of eyes, either sea blue or rose red or both, watching you before turning away when you tried to catch their gaze.

But it seems that some people did noticed something different with the two young men, specifically their family. Deuce’s mother would smile knowingly at you whenever you drop by to offer some assistance in her business, occasionally mentioning how much her son has grown. Funnily enough, Ace’s older brother mentioned something similar about the redhead, though it was more laced with a teasing tone than one of filial affection.

But you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. You enjoyed the frequent visits of your best friends, especially knowing they will be even busier when the announcement of a new royal member would take your precious moments with them. Rumours were spread about the town of a mysterious figure locked in a tower which were not part of your memories, but your wary heart kept you mindful of the possible news regarding the imperial family.

Your worries intensified when Ace and Deuce announced their new task once dawn breaks, they were to escort the newest addition to the royal family back to the palace. In an attempt to quell your unease, you made an embarrassing request.

“You want to do what?” A bright red hue on Deuce’s face heavily contrasted with his raven blue hair, but you were no position to tease him as you could assume that your embarrassed complexion was no better. “Y-You mean…you…and us…”

The three of you lost track of time chatting and goofing off in your quarters and didn’t realize how the sun has long gone to rest for the night. Instead of returning to their own home, you asked if the two knights were willing to stay over the night, like in your younger days. Back when you three were more used to wooden swords than ones of steel, when your only worry was if your parents were going to cook your favourites that night.

Back when you three shared the same bed together.

“It’s not that crazy of a request…” you pouted but you supposed it was rather absurd to ask your friends, who old enough to be considered men, something so childish. Perhaps those carefree days are truly long gone.

“I’m not opposed to it” Ace gave his signature cheeky smile as he naturally wrapped his arm around your shoulder, slightly leaning his weight onto you. “If you just can’t help but miss our company, we can have a good ol’ slumber party. Just like old times~”

You’re starting to reconsider your request.

But Ace wasn’t done. “Well, it’s not exactly like old times. We’re definitely bigger than back when we were kids”

The redhead was obviously right. The three of you were nothing like the tiny versions of you in the past, and your best friends have certainly bulked up since they started their journey into knighthood. You tried your best but you couldn’t help but gaze in appreciation of the hard work the two of them did to build the stamina and muscles to protect their kingdom, respectfully of course.

“I doubt that all three of us can fit on your teeny little bed.” the scarlet-eyed knight exaggerated his point by squinting his fingers to describe your bed. “I guess Deucey’s just gonna have to go home for tonight.”

“Hey, wait a minute! Why me?!” Deuce snapped out from his flustered daze to glare at Ace, pulling his shaggy-haired companion by the neck of his shirt. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

Ace remained unperturbed, too used to the blunette’s burst of anger “It’s nothing personal, buddy. But you grind your teeth real loud at night. How is any of us gonna get any sleep?”

“Well you’re a pain to wake up in the morning!” Deuce angrily countered. “Don’t make it our problem to get your ass up tomorrow.”

You watched your best friends bicker and argue, as if you didn’t already know of their terrible sleeping habits. Sure, Deuce grinds his teeth but you always tried to gently soothe his jaw hoping to relax him. Ace may sleep like the dead but his cute little pout every time he finally wakes up makes the effort all worth it to you.

They were idiots, but they were your idiots.

“Will you both stop fighting already?” Ace and Deuce immediately paused as your voice caught their attention, like it always does. “No one’s gotta leave. My bed is not that small, you know?”

To prove your point, you took each of the boy’s hand and led them without issue. For someone as tall and built as them, they were so easy to pull and push as you please. Carefully, you pressed your hands against their chest to push them backwards onto your bed. You then crawled onto the bed yourself between Ace and Deuce, the men automatically shifting their bodies to make space for you.

Satisfied, you laid onto your back and you took the hand of both men, each of your hand snuggly holding their warm, calloused ones. You smiled brightly at the fuzzy feelings of nostalgia bubbling in you, pressing your joining hands to your chest, atop of your beating heart.

“See, no one needs to leave.” your bright eyes looked up to your favourite people, cheeky joy evident in your gaze.

A rare occurrence, the two chatty troublemakers were left speechless. In their defence, they were too busy trying to contain the burst of happiness in their hearts to reply back to you, barely pushing the redness of their cheeks at bay.

[yuesya]

Guizhong blinks, staring out at the mountainous terrain that was formerly Malphas’ territory.

… Or rather, what remained of the mountainous terrain.

It’s… a mess. The mountains? Are just not there anymore. As in, they’re just completely gone. Vanished! Like they just up and disappeared into thin air!

Now, there’s nothing but a sea of lapping waves stretching out as far as the eye can see, drowning out what used to be perfectly good dry land. There’s no telling how long this unnatural flood will persist, as if the scale of damage wrought to the landscape and environment wasn’t catastrophic enough already.

The flood reached all the way to the borders of the Guili Assembly’s territory. It was only thanks to the defenses that they’d previously put into place that they were able to defend against the sudden onslaught of waves at all. A necessary precaution, given their close proximity to the Lord of the Vortex. But Guizhong hadn’t expected to be putting their adeptal spells and devices to the test so soon.

Looking back on it, the first sign of something amiss had been Lige suddenly spinning around and staring in the direction of Malphas’ territory, stock-still with narrowed eyes. Ever since they formed their alliance, Lige had been slowly shedding that shell of unfeeling stone, but there were still times when his behavior was acutely inhuman.

It had been the startled reports that Guizhong received from their citizens that led her to realize that Lige abruptly left on his own, shedding details of his human form in his haste and scaring quite a few people in his wake. So Guizhong had taken it upon herself to calm their people and get them to settle down again; it was part of their contract.

Lige would be responsible for taking care of martial and warfare-related matters, while Guizhong would be responsible for governance and civil affairs, maximizing both of their strengths in a fruitful partnership.

…

After Guizhong had finished calming their citizens… It hadn’t taken long before she’d sensed the stirrings of battle on the edge of her awareness, in wake of Lige’s departure. But even then, she’d been confident that her fellow god had things well in hand.

… Which was before the water level had started rising rapidly at an alarming rate, forcing Guizhong to hurriedly rally together the other adepti to put their protective measures into play, in order to protect the Guili Assembly. It was only after the water started receding and Guizhong was sure that the adepti could hold down the fort that she’d left their territory and followed after Lige’s trail.

Which led to where she was right now: Flying above the waves, and trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Just what in the world happened here?” Guizhong mutters to herself, frowning.

The waves below her remain silent, and do not yield any answer besides the obvious: That a cataclysmic battle had taken place between gods here, and this was the terrifying result.

The goddess closes her eyes briefly, silently mourning over the many innocents who were caught up in this conflict through no fault of their own.

Malphas’ people… while Guizhong held no love for Malphas, who treated humans more like playthings and curiosities than actual people to be cherished for their individuality–

The humans who lived in Malphas’ territory didn’t deserve such a fate, drowned in a watery grave that had no business flooding the land like this.

If this was Osial’s work… then the Lord of the Vortex had much to answer for. Guizhong was sure that Lige would agree with her, and he definitely wouldn’t be the only god to do so.

Speaking of–

Guizhong holds out her hand, where a Geo crystalfly alights gently on her fingertip, tingling with a familiar energy signature. The crystalfly flaps its wings, then lifts up into the air again –and begins flying in a very specific direction.

Follow.

“You’d better have a good explanation for all of this, Lige,” she mutters under her breath.

While Lige is not one to shy away from battle, he is not one for meaningless, wanton destruction, laying waste to anything and everything around him. Guizhong trusts that he wouldn’t have intentionally caused such destruction, but if he had really been pushed to this extent by Osial, then… the Lord of the Vortex was far more dangerous than either of them had suspected.

Concern rises in her chest, coupled with worry and anxiety for her partner.

The emotions do not abate until she finally catches sight of him again. Lige looks… definitely more roughed up than Guizhong remembers seeing him this morning. And he’s also injured, with a particularly serious gash torn diagonally across his chest, still bleeding heavily –even though his expression remains passive and unchanging, as if he doesn’t feel the pain at all.

But Guizhong does.

Tears spring to her eyes, “Lige!”

The Geo crystalfly that had led her to him lands on the other god’s shoulder. Lige blinks, some measure of awareness returning to his eyes and easing his stone visage… and he nods in her direction, relaxing slightly at the sight of an ally. “Guizhong. You’re here.”

“Of course I am!” Had he expected otherwise? Just because Guizhong wasn’t a god who was suited for combat didn’t mean that she couldn’t fight. “What in the world happened, Lige? Is this Osial’s work? Should we be expecting an invasion?”

“An invasion…” Lige mutters, amber eyes hardening. “It is possible. Although it won’t be happening for quite some time, I’d imagine.”

Guizhong frowns. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Lige nods. Then, in that infuriatingly unchanging cadence of his, “He just lost five of his six heads. I’d be surprised if he regains enough strength to lead an invasion and wage war anytime soon.”

The Lord of the Vortex is one of the oldest gods! One of the most powerful Hydro gods on this side of the ocean! And he just–?

Guizhong gapes at him, “You–?!”

Lige shakes his head. “I claimed two heads. The other three were her work.”

And so saying, the god gestures to the side. At this point, Guizhong finally focuses on the others who’d also been present this entire time –a heavily injured bird spirit who watches the two of them separately, clutching tightly onto an unconscious girl in his arms.

No, not just a girl. That was… another god?

The bird spirit shifts uneasily under Guizhong’s attention. Were it not for his wings being all but shredded, she has no doubt that he would’ve taken flight perhaps the very instant that she’d arrived–

“There’s no place for you and your new god to go to even if you run,” Lige says. “Osial may have been dealt a grievous blow, but his armies remain. His influence stretches wherever the water reaches, and it will be quite some time before the waves subside. You’ll only be endangering the both of you, if you run.”

The bird spirit says nothing in response.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Guizhong says gently, crouching down to the young spirit’s height. Lige’s words might be a little scary, but Guizhong can read him well enough by this point to know that he’s legitimately concerned for these two. “Let us help you and your god, please?”

The bird spirit still says nothing. But his gaze wavers, flickering between them and the bloodied god that he clutches in his arms.

“I promise that we will not harm you or your god. Come with us to the Guili Assembly, and we will get you treated,” Guizhong tells him. Then, reaching out a hand and pointing towards Lige, “You know who he is, right?”

“… The Groundbreaker.”

“That’s right,” Guizhong says encouragingly. “He’s also the God of Contracts. So if I make a promise before the God of Contracts, then know that my words can be trusted, and that I will not act in bad faith to you or your god, alright?”

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

An Analysis of Gman in Half Life: Alyx

HL:A Gman is by far the most interesting version of Gman I've seen and I've noticed so many details in his one interaction with Alyx, to the point I needed to make a full post about all the bullet points. (Note that this is MY personal interpretation, so it could be different from what was intended or what other people believe)

Starting from the very beginning, when Alyx asks whether Gman is Gordon Freeman or not, he responds in a kind of. Condescending way.

It's almost like he's amused by the fact he was mistaken for Gordon. not to mention the use of "Imprison" in the statement, almost as if he's not only making a snide remark towards Gordon, but also implying that even he sees Gordon's employment as "imprisonment". Not to mention the implication that it really does not take that much to hold Gordon captive in one way or another. Could also be literal, meaning Gordon isn't near powerful enough to require a full Vault be built around him.

A: "So. Who are you?"

Alyx asks a very simple question cause. why wouldn't she be confused? She expected a super-weapon; she expected Gordon Freeman, so when she found nothing but a man in a suit who straight up scoffs at the misunderstanding, of COURSE she'd want to ask questions. However, Gman only responds with:

Gman deflects the question, but rather than completely ignoring it, he simply leads it into a new question: "What can I offer you?"

He guides the conversation to a different topic, luring Alyx away from questioning who, or what, he is, whether it's because he doesn't want to (or can't) give an answer, or if it's because he simply wants the conversation to move forward rather than being caught on the nature of Gman himself.

G: "Some believe the fate of our world is Inflexible. My Employers disagree."

This statement is funny in an ironic way. he states that fate is flexible and can be changed, yet. When was the last time Gman didn't have full say on what can and will happen? By making everything go a very specific way, you CREATE fate.

G: "They authorize me to… nudge things in a particular direction from time to time. What would YOU want nudged, Ms. Vance?"

The use of word "Nudge" is an interesting way to describe changing things within the timeline. though something else that's interesting is his facial expressions during this moment.

He looks almost. Kind. but in a forced sort of way. It feels like he's expecting a certain answer from Alyx, and is just waiting for her to say it.

However, when she says she wants the combine off earth, his expression changes.

The change in expression implies that Alyx's answer was not the one he wanted or hoped for. Thus, he once again ignores what Alyx said and gives his own reasons for it.

G: "Ahhh. That would be a considerably large nudge. Too large, given the interests of my employers."

Rather than giving Alyx a second chance at a more reasonable request however, he instead says:

G: "What if I could offer you something you don't know you want?"

It finally clicks together why Gman's there: To make a deal. Whatever Alyx said before this moment was completely irrelevant. No matter what Alyx requested to have "Nudged", he would have brought up his own offer. He had already mapped out how the conversation was going to end even before Alyx had even begun speaking to him. It was just a matter of getting there.

Gman showing Alyx her fathers death was an intentional and targeted choice. Alyx is a little more naïve here than she is in HL2, not to mention her close relationship to Eli. Eli is one of the only people she has left at this point in her life, so. Why wouldn't she want to save him? This is exactly the reason Gman chose this event in particular above anything else, because he knew it was an offer Alyx would NEVER say no to. He knows Alyx more than she knows herself, and had already predicted the outcome of the situation. So, understandably, Alyx kills the Advisor in place of her father's life.

This line. This line is so interesting to me in particular. Rather than describing Eli as a "person" or "human", and describing the dead Advisor as something "alien", he refers to both as "entities." almost as if he sees both of them on the same wavelength of sorts. It implies Gman sees no difference between a human and an animal, or alien of some kind. Sees them all as simply that. Entities.

Yet another example of Gman deflecting the questions given to him, guiding the conversation instead towards Alyx herself.

G: "A previous hire has been unable — or unwilling — to perform the tasks laid before him. We have struggled to find a suitable replacement. Until now."

Him referring to Gordon in this way is interesting to me. Was the sudden wish to drop Gordon from employment due to the Vortigaunt intervention in HL2 Episode 1? Was it because Gordon was truly incapable of fulfilling certain "tasks"? Or maybe it was because Gordon was not as vulnerable to Gman's influence? It's unclear, and it's also not clear whether this means Gordon is fully free of Gman's control or not.

At this point it's made crystal clear that Alyx killing the advisor in place of her father was a contract she was signing, one she didn't even know she held the pen to. This was always going to be the outcome of the interaction, since the beginning. Everything Alyx had done up to that point was to help Gman and his "Employers" get further in their goals now that Gordon was deemed "Incapable". Nothing that Alyx could have done would've mattered; her "fate" was decided from the beginning.

Overall what I gather from this ending is a lot about Gman as a character. He never truly lies, yet he purposefully leaves out important details, such as the fact that reversing Eli's death wasn't without a price. He manipulates the conversation to fit his wants and needs, ignoring direct questions he sees as unimportant to his goals. And the thing is, he does it in a way that Alyx doesn't even seem to notice. He has played this game so many times that he knows exactly what moves to play. He knows the people he talks to more than they know themselves. He uses their worst fears against them to make them go to him for safety.

Judging by the things Gordon survived in Black Mesa, you can gauge he had a strong will to survive. So what better to do to seal a deal than to threaten that life he cares so much about? To tell him that the only other option was to go under Gman's employment else he face death itself? Alyx had such a strong connection to her father, so what better to do than to tell her that Eli will die if she doesn't do anything, luring her in to sign a contract without even knowing what she was signing?

Gman is a master manipulator, no better words for it. And he always manages to do it in such a way that you can barely even notice it happening. He never raises his voice. he never shows irritation or hostility aside from only one instance. Because why should he be frustrated? He's won even before the game started. And honestly that is frightening to me, cause it shows that he's done this many times before and knows just how to get what he and his "Employers" want, regardless of how it effects other people.

[typellblog]

Illyasviel von Einzbern: The Hole at the Center of Fate/Stay Night

Emiya Shirou is the beating heart of Fate/Stay Night. Every character radiates outwards from Shirou, shapes and is shaped by him. He fights against foils like Archer and Kirei while growing alongside the three main heroines in each route.

There's really only one character who precedes Shirou in influence, who shapes him near-completely but cannot himself be shaped.

Emiya Kiritsugu is already dead, after all.

It's his legacy that drives the novel - but something oft-undiscussed is that Shirou only has half of it. He inherits his father’s justice, and the one that inherits his ruthlessness is Illya. Thus, Illya’s relationship to Shirou is dictated from the start.

She is everything his father left behind, the first gatekeeper of the moonlit world of death and magecraft that Shirou now finds himself in. In this role she transcends routes, appearing at the end of the third day to deliver a near-lethal attack just as the story branches off.

She seems intent to deliver Kiritsugu’s baggage to Shirou, to make him reckon with the past that he himself never experienced; the truth that a hero can only help those he sides with while many others are left alone in the cold.

In this way her very existence is a far more fundamental challenge to Shirou’s ideals than that of any other character - and yet this challenge is met only indirectly. Much of the information regarding her true identity and relationship to Shirou is elided until the end of HF.

She functions similarly to Sakura, a character who totally changes the reader’s perception of the first two routes in retrospect. The reveals about Illya force us to reevaluate how positive her ending in the Fate route really is.

In the narrative of Heaven’s Feel, both Illya and Sakura are considered ‘doomed’ - able to be saved only by Shirou sacrificing his own life to Archer’s arm.

It’s the crux of their characterisation, in the same way that Saber’s pursuit of the Holy Grail leads her into timeless and uncountable doomed battles. In a route based around that character, you would expect fixing it to be the main thrust of the plot.

And so just as the Fate route is focused on Shirou clashing with Saber over her lack of regard for her safety, and Heaven’s Feel is focused on accepting even the ‘impure’ parts of Sakura, there is no route focused on showing Illya that she needn't give up on having a normal life.

Instead all of her scenes in Heaven’s Feel are about accepting that she cannot have one.

This is the hole in the center of FSN that I’m talking about. Its absence is felt keenly throughout the novel, because Illya has another role besides a specter of Shirou's past. She embodies the prize and object of the Holy Grail War itself - the very same wish-granting device.

Many of the characters in this story are not fighting for the Grail specifically, but nonetheless their strong personalities and desires cause them to clash with one another, in a process Kirei sees as comparable to everyday life.

Their wishes, both in the form of the dead’s regrets and victor’s will, enter the neutral, empty Grail in order to produce a miracle. The only one not allowed a will of their own is the vessel of the Grail, who, in absorbing these desires, must completely erase their humanity.

Illya is not intended to have a reason to pursue the Grail, nor any life beyond obtaining it. The war is premised on the sacrifice of the Servants, yes, but nonetheless they enter as contestants. Illya, like Justeaze before her, enters the ritual only as a sacrifice.

And yet an outside element is introduced. Illya being part-human, the product of an actual family rather than just a clone allows for her to have personal motivations. She holds on to her resentment of Kiritsugu, despite knowing that it’s pointless, because it’s all she has left.

A parallel can be made to the Grail itself. Supposedly a pure wish-granting device, it becomes corrupted through the influence of Angra Mainyu, one small, perverse wish colouring the whole thing black.

The desired salvation of the Einzberns, their thousand-year project relies on being able to reproduce the miracle, to understand every component part of their attempts in order to draw ever closer to the Third Magic, but Illya is a random factor, born to a human parent.

She’s also their greatest creation since Justeaze. Miracles, after all, exist because they are not understood.

The corruption of the Grail with the darkest desires of the world is just the inevitable result of any wish - the price of becoming a human instead of existing as a machine. Live long enough and anyone would turn into Zouken, higher goals suborned by a base desire to escape pain.

Like Illya the Grail is a failed project, a tool that can only provide salvation of a limited nature & only fulfill its purpose incompletely, proof positive that true perfection does not exist in the world of Fate/Stay Night.

In Illya’s case the bug in her programming comes fundamentally from a desire for family, for someone to be close to her. Despite her dysfunctional initial approaches she’s perfectly capable of living normally alongside Shirou.

The issue, then, is the Grail War itself.

Her two sides, two different origins, come into conflict here, and her role as the Holy Grail consistently wins. Not because she desires it in any real sense, but because she doesn’t believe that she can do anything else.

Consider how the Fate route ends with Saber and Shirou trying to live without regrets, accepting both the negative and positive aspects of the past without dwelling on that which cannot be changed.

Consider how Illya in the Fate route doesn’t say a single thing about her condition, refuses to burden others with that knowledge, accepting the fact of her death and instead choosing to live in the moment.

Consider how the Unlimited Blade Works route is about Shirou trying to live without regrets, accepting that he will not always succeed, that his self-sacrificing nature will hurt him, but nonetheless his pursuit of that goal is worthwhile.

Consider how Illya’s death is used to illustrate this, how she cannot be saved regardless of whether Shirou makes the choice to intervene or not, how his sorrow is used as proof of his brokenness and his ability to move forward regardless is used as proof of his strength.

Consider why the Heaven's Feel route is named after the ritual that materializes the soul, why this is identified with salvation and rebirth by the Einzberns. I would argue that the Third Magic is a metaphor for the process Shirou undergoes throughout the novel.

He evolves from a machine into a human, gaining his own desires and the will to live. And just as Heaven’s Feel, the ritual, requires a sacrifice: Justeaze’s blood forms the foundation, so too does Heaven’s Feel, the route: Illya spends her own life to fully realize Shirou’s.

In moving past Kiritsugu’s legacy, he moves past his belief that his life is worth less than others. He wants to live, wants to let Illya save him, wants to let her sacrifice herself for him. In moving past Kiritsugu’s legacy, he moves past Illya.

I don’t blame him. I just want to emphasize how significant to this novel the existence of suffering is, how important the figure of someone who cannot be saved, how necessary a single person’s sacrifice. And how this falls on Illya in every route.

In the latter parts of the Fate route she quickly disappears from story relevance. Her functions as a Grail offer a convenient excuse to have her sleeping for much of the day, as it does for Kirei’s kidnapping of her, stringing her up as a sacrifice to open the gate.

In UBW we have Gilgamesh brutally ripping out her heart. He values her purely for her core, which holds the Grail, tossing aside the rest of her body.

If her role as the Grail is what drives her doom, though, she is at least partially able to overcome this at the end of Heaven’s Feel.

For a brief moment, Illya escapes the bonds of fate by uniting her deeply personal wish with the impersonal functions of the Grail.

She also dies. She fucking dies, okay? I’m so tired of talking about this as though it’s supposed to be a good thing, as though we’re just supposed to accept it as the best possible option.

It works precisely because we know there is another, because we know for a fucking fact that an Illya route could have existed, that her salvation is possible not just from a meta perspective but directly implied in-universe.

Illya’s power is to grant wishes, but she is incapable of giving voice to her own. She needs someone there by her side to tell her that it’s okay to want to live, and yet- Shirou is so fucking broken that he needs her to do that for him instead.

Illya could have lived, but she doesn’t, and in not doing so she carries half the weight of this story’s tragedy on her back.

In a way this is an excuse for the lack of an Illya route. I really do think its blatant absence adds something to Fate/Stay Night, really sells the tragedy of HF, becomes even more beautiful precisely because of its unattainability.

It’s a comment on how the artistic process, materializing your soul on paper if you will, is an inherently restrictive one, rife with failure and things left on the chopping board.

But it does not, not for a second, mean that we should accept the lack of an Illya route. It doesn’t mean the desire for it is a bad thing. It doesn’t mean that its addition would make Fate/Stay Night worse.

It would, however, become a different game at that point, and here I want to pay respect to the one that has lived alongside me for twenty years.

Thanks for reading, and happy anniversary to my favourite story of all time.

[turvi]

Rumors -2

WARNING: MESSY TIMELINE. DOES NOT FOLLOW CANON. CURSE WORDS, INJURIES

Part 1

Her eyes were trained on him. The chaos around her starts to fade as usual when she sees him look at her. Now that he knows how she feels there is a different kind of intensity in his eyes. It is like the world around her doesn't exist. The usual noise of James and Sirius chattering dulls as she studies his face. There may be a lot of distance between them physically but the way Severus and Y/n look at each other feels more intimate than the act of intimacy.

Their spell is broken at the sound of James cackling. Y/n gulps taking deep breath. Feeling as if Severus just saw every inch of her soul, Merlin she never felt this vulnerable but it feels so good.

Y/n clenched her jaw as she saw fellow Gryffindor students pointed at Severus and giggling. "He deserves it" she looks at the source of voice. James in his true fashion looked smug, as if he truly believes what he says. Y/n looks back to find an empty spot where he was sitting she takes one last bite of her cold breakfast and gets up.

"hey where are you going?" Sirius asked with a smirk that is ever- present on his face. Y/n shrugged her shoulder "nowhere specific, the weather is lovely might as well take a walk".

Before Sirius could speak again Y/n quickly walks and rushes out of the Great Hall.

.................................

Potions is a rather difficult class for Y/n, not because she has difficulty making potions but because she often gets distracted by Severus' hands. While trying to remember how many times she has to stir the potion her eyes would wander and study how gracefully and expertly Severus chops the ingredients.

Even Y/n does not understand how she finds beauty in what the world has deemed to be ruined and damned but one glance at his face and her heart throbs at the way the sun creates shadow on his face, the way she can spot a few freckles on his nose and kiss each of them.

"....L/n"

Y/n is pulled out of her daze by Slughorn's booming voice. She tensed up as she saw him checking her potion "Hmm there is still some room for improvement but well done...you certainly have improved in your potions. Not the best like Evan's potion but well done"

"Well... as long as I am not failing," Y/n thinks. But her thoughts are interrupted again when she feels like she is being watched. She tries to ignore it but ultimately looks around the class to find Severus staring at her. The students start to murmur as they catch him staring at her, looking at Y/n in pity, already creating stories about how the disgusting monster is plotting to prey on the sweet Y/n.

....................................................

A few days passed but for Y/n it felt like the days were blending. After that conversation, Severus has not spoken to her and truthfully after her experience with other boys she did not expect much, how would you expect Severus to feel for Y/n like he feels for Lily. Maybe it is her destiny to love Severus and watch him love Lily. Maybe in the next lifetime, she will experience how it feels to be loved by Severus Snape.

Y/n's best friend Carol watched her continue loving one man who has loved only one girl and she could not take her best friend long for the man that could never be hers. "Y/n don't you get it, he is an obsessive creep he will never love you back."

Y/n sighs "Carol...you cannot control your feelings. I let him know my feelings if he doesn't reciprocate that is fate but don't tell me not to love him...I cannot do that." Her voice cracks, she does not understand how she can feel so deeply for someone so damned.

Carol declares defeat with a sigh. She feels Y/n is digging her own grave, as loving Severus Snape could only result in pain and agony. She thinks Y/n is naive, but Y/n knows Severus Snape could ruin her with just one look at her. She only wants to give him one chance to show his true side, show her who Severus Snape truly is and that day approached soon.

.......................................................

The weather has always been gloomy here in Hogwarts, it is so rare to see even a sight of the sun. Yet somehow Y/n felt unease in her chest when she saw thunder clapping outside the window, ignoring the usual chattering of her cousin and his friends until she heard "we leave immediately after dinner."

Y/n immediately turns around to face James "wait wait go where where....go why?"

James sighs dramatically, putting his hand on his chest. "Ah, my little cousin does care about me." Y/n rolls her eyes. "Don't be silly. What are you up to now?" Ever since she has known her cousin she has seen a smirk on his face and she has learned one thing- he is up to no good. His teenage boy brain always trying to find the adrenaline in low-grade pranks. "Well...we know that Snivellus is hanging around the wrong crowd like the evil git he is. We want to catch him and give him hell. He deserves it for calling Lily....mudblood"

Y/n bites her tongue. Don't say anything....don't say anything....don't say anything. "Well, what if this wrong crowd is with him, James? You know you are talking about death eaters...they are not your regular students who would back down with a simple Stupefy or something.". She is terrified, the dread in her chest only grows. Even if James can be annoying and plans to trouble Severus....he is going after something that could lead to a fate worse than death.

Sirius pats her head and it takes everything in her not to glare at him "y/nn we have been following him. We know his schedule. We will follow him to the Hogsmeade and get him... before he meets the death eater." Sirius lets out a chuckle as if this is hilarious "he will be in such a state even those guys will see what a weak boy he is."

James chimes in laughing even louder "he will piss in his pants." Y/n grits her teeth. The cackles of the boys make her shiver, she desperately looks at Remus who as always... looks away. "James please..." she interrupted their moment of joy, James looked at her, pride filling his chest as he responded, "come on then".

The marauders step out and the thundering only gets more aggressive...almost as if warning about the danger that looms over the group. With every step they take fear starts to consume her heart. Y/n cannot decide who she fears more- the marauders or the death eaters, but she has one goal clear in her head...save Severus.

......................................

The marauders stay hidden in the shadows, waiting for Snape, but they can't even spot the dungeon bat's shadow. The speed of the wind picked up as the group's eyes focused on the street leading to Hogsmeade. Y/n crossed her fingers silently, wishing Severus would not come. Then immediately, Peter spoke up, pointing towards the High Street: "We should look there."

"Wait...why do you think we should specifically look there? We will be easily spotted" Y/n pointed out, only to be shushed by her cousin. This is not good. "James, please let's go...look, even the weather is getting worse."

"Sweetheart relax...we just want to make Snivellus piss in his pants...we can deal with some death eaters" Sirius responds giving Y/n his charming toothy smile which made Y/n grit her teeth. Oh, how Sirius was wrong. As everyone ran towards the High Street, her eyes frantically looked for Severus, now a different fear started to consume Y/n. Where is Severus?

Before anyone even had a moment to take in their surroundings they were suddenly targets of spells coming out from the wands of death eaters that were approaching them. Remus and Y/n immediately take charge as Sirius and James find their bearings. As she casts Protego, Remus looks back at the two "where is Peter?" Before they can speak up one of the death eaters strikes Y/n with an Expelliarmus immediately breaking their shield "no time we have to hide".

James shrieks as he gets hit with a spell on his shoulder, making him bleed, Sirius immediately picks him up as he also strikes spells trying to keep the death eaters away.

"Crap they blocked the only way we can go back" Remus nervously looks at the 3 death eaters that were coming towards the group. Y/n whispers "lets go towards the Cemetery we'll figure a way out". Remus puts another Protego as they run away from death eaters. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she and Remus casted spells defending themselves from the death eaters that were closing in...Peter still nowhere to be seen and as the rain starts to get heavier it became more difficult to navigate the alleyways.

Y/n yelps and stumbles as she gets hit on her leg, Remus slows down but she pushed him as she tries to run "don't stop just keep running". She winces as she tries to run. The boys run quicker than her and she realized she has a lot of ground to cover when suddenly she gets hit again that made her fall.

She picks her wand immediately to defend herself but gets hit with another spell that made her drop her wand. Y/n's heart rate spikes up as the death eaters walk closer to her. She tries to get up but her wounds make her cry in pain. As they walk closer she immediately grabs her wand again casts a stupefy and limps towards a dark alley. She looks back and groans as she saw the death eaters running after her again but as she turned around she bumped into someone. Her eyes widen as she saw the death eaters standing in front of her as soon as she raised her wand he gripped her wrist and turned her around, pulling her towards his chest. In that moment Y/n knew she was going to die. But to her surprise this death eater—quite skillfully disarms the death eaters, and casts the obliviate spell on him.

Wait his voice sounds familiar. Before she gets to wrack her brain the death eater picks her up bridal style and they vanish amongst a black cloud before the other death eaters could come to their senses.

.........................................

She feels like her head is spinning when they finally reach somewhere. Y/n looks around and it looks like a very old house . The scent of herbs oddly makes her feel safer even though right now she is in the arms of a strange death eater.

The death eater gently takes her to his bathroom and seated her on a stool. Y/n's eyes follows his move carefully. As soon he points his wand towards her she points her wand towards his.

"That is of no use you silly woman. I was able to disarm 3 very skilled death eaters in one move...what makes you think I cannot do the same to you"

Severus.

Y/n tries her best not to smile... cursing her stupid heart. After all what he said was also a bit insulting. She lowers her wand. "I think I did quite well". At that Severus furiously took his mask off. "What were you thinking coming there with those idiots...do you have any idea what would have happened to you if those bastards got their hands on you?"

Y/n huffed. Even if the sight of this man makes her heart flutter he has a mouth full of insults that makes her grind her teeth. In that moment of silence her brain has awfully reminded her that this is the first time she is talking to Severus after that day she confessed her feelings for him. As Severus casted a healing spell on her wounds one thing was clear in her head. She does not regret her words.

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing there or are you going to sit there like a statue"?

Y/n fiddled her fingers as she quietly spoke "they were planning to pull another nasty prank on you. I couldn't just sit there. I came along so that I could somehow...help you get away from them"

"Clearly, I didn't need your help," Severus growled as he looked into her eyes, which were trying their best not to shed a tear. Does he hate her that much? Y/n looks away from his eyes only to feel his cold finger under her chin, which makes her look back towards him. "Y/n...if James would have hurt me...beat me till I was unconscious I would have been able to tolerate that but...but if something would have happened to you...I would not have been able to live with myself."

Y/n gulps, her heart beats so loudly she fears it might be the only sound echoing in the house. She felt a shiver up her spine as she felt his cold finger slowly make its way from her chin to her throat "I can't help but fear what would have happened to you if I came even a second late...I cannot even begin to forgive myself for the injuries you have sustained right now".

Her pulse quickened as Severus wrapped his hand gently around her throat "you are insane if you still want to love me because this...the double life, the death eaters...this is a part of my life in such a way even if I try I will not be able to detach myself from it...if you get involved with me...you get involved with this".

"I love you....so much" Y/n's voice wavered as his thumb rubbed her throat. Severus groaned "you are so stubborn". Y/n gasped as Severus finally closed the gap between them and kissed her, chasing the taste of rain on her lips. At that moment Y/n forgot all about her pain, about how James might react, about how cold she was right now and could only focus on how Severus tastes. Despite the pain in her body, her hand flew to his hair, letting Severus in between her legs and rendering her speechless.

Severus pulls away from her lips with a wet pop and it takes her a few minutes before she can open her eyes. As she does, she looks at him fondly, her eyes not able to look away from the supposed damned boy that stood in front of her, his hand still wrapped around her throat. She can't help but let out a whimper as Severus in his baritone voice whispers a soft promise in her ear, sealing it with another passionate kiss on her lips that made her knees weak.

I love you so much...I will protect you until my last breath, love. I promise.

A/N: Sorry this was late I got a part-time job now. IF YOU LIKE THIS REBLOG AND COMMENTS PLEASE. If you want your tag removed you can send a message

@alldaysdreamers, @sevprince-91, @deafeninginternetcreator

@midwestemosblogblog, @randomcreator-09, @simmahv

@wompwompsad, @liviacarol88-blog, @marie-snape

[horizon-verizon]

The amount of fanfics I have seen where Jon hatches dragons, takes over Daenerys’ storyline/one-ups her storyline, and becomes the PtwP is insanely high. Daenerys as a man would have been Aegon the Conqueror come again (even though she IS Aegon the Conqueror come again already). People would treat her like Aragorn rather than Anakin Skywalker or Paul Atreides. Her actions would not have been questioned as heavily. Her fate wouldn’t be deemed as one of madness or death.

A lot of fans hate that Daenerys is the one that brought dragons back in the world, and the only hope for survival in Westeros. If Daenerys doesn’t go to Westeros, everyone dies! There’s no hope to defeat the Others without her, but people still think that she isn’t the Prince that was Promised. And please the Song of Ice and Fire is about a war between Ice and Fire, not someone who comes from Ice and Fire (Jon being the son of a Stark and a Targaryen is not a union of Ice and Fire), it’s a war between the side of death (Ice, the Others) and the side of life (Fire, Daenerys and her dragons).

All true. And I think people purposefully "misunderstand" what the Prince that was Promised & Azor Ahai's roles are in ASoIaF's world's legends so they can deny they both refer to the same person AND that Dany is ultimately neither. That bc the term "ptwp" is used more often by Westeorsi and the term "Azor Ahai" is used more often by Essosi people, that these are two completely different entities. That because the Azor Ahai has a specific mythic story to it (Nissa-Nissa being the sacrifice for AA's sword, the gods in the Yi-Tish [but not exclusively] and how they/humans/Amethyst Empress-Bloodstone Emporer brought about the first Long Night), that the Prince is completely unrelated to Azor Ahai...even though the Valyrian word meaning "prince"--which is where the word that is part of the term in the first place--is a gender-neutral and can refer to a woman.

Other than the word, it is rather because comparatively the "PTWP" has less information or place of origin than the lore for AA that it actually always stemmed from the myth of AA AND is actually just another name for AA. We know Essos and many of its present societies are far older than any Westerosi civilization and we know that both the FM and the Andals came from Essos in their separate migrations and at least the Andals have lived at one point under Valyrian exapnsion and rule. When humans migrate, they bring with them the most relevant or inspiring stories for their cultural and mental survival, not to mention that the stories of AA have existed for millennia in most of Essos, from the Narrow Sea to the where we could touch Sothoryos. Many Essosi cities are inheritors of Old Valyria's rule or have developed their own socieiites much from the remnants of Valyrian rule. Through old Valyria's wide colonization and empire, places with great distances b/t them would have had stories and other things translated through Valyrian or carried through Valyrian devices and for hundreds of years. Much of Westeros' commerce and other sorts of exchanges--we hear several times in AWoIaF of maesters learning some tidbits about some Essosi, scientific, legends of Westrsoi travelers like Lomas Longstrider, etc. Even just the knowledge of how people continue to travel b/t Essos and Westeros provides another way as to how the AA prophecy reached Westeros and just as in real life people develop different names for either the same thing. Melisandre, who travels to Westeros from her mission given to her or iparted to her by the Red Priests uses "PTWP" and AA interchangeably, and says AA more often bc it is the most familiar and the older of the two.

Thereby, that the PTWP prophecy came from Essos and is thus just the most recent iteration for AA is proven and very obvious but people are in extreme denial, ignorant, and/or just purposefully sexist. For god sake's, we have THREE separate sources linking the PTWP to AA: Melisandre, Maester Aemon, and Archmaester Marwyn, with the same refrain of "bleeding star", under which Dany is told to us has already hatched her 3 eggs. PTWP is often pictured as having some sort of sword...a principal part of the AA prophecy contain a story about a "sword", and both often have "light" and fire symbolism to connote driving away the "cold" and "dark" of an all consuming, destructive evil. The "last hero" that supposedly drove away the Others with DRAGONGLASS/obsidian (again, a material often shown to be from Valyrian origins and very connected to Valyrian steel swords).

But even with all this reference to an actual sword, we know a singular sword is not gonna do much against a force such like the Others and even a whole army isn't enough (dead bodies coming back and all): magic and fire that come in the form of dragons--who are fire embodied as well as just magical creatures--to utterly obliterate and "purify" the threat is necessary. The fire x "light" creates swords but is a weapon in of itself, not just an "ingredient", as the Others are a mass elemental problem that needs an elemental solution--fire spreads, swords cannot, when we want to get literal.

It's ironic bc in the metaphorical language and paradigms of fantasy and other sorts of fiction narratives in the West, women are constantly relegated as "material" to be used by men and either they or whatever makes them strong or notable is shaped for another thing so the man/boy can use the new creation to defeat evil...and in ASoIaF, Dany is creator, material, director. In our own formula, she really manifests more as a "goddess". Which is why people are so eager to relegate her back to being "material" for Jon.

[fancifulplaguerat]

Particularly fascinated with Yulia this fine evening. How her character deals with applying logic to the illogical, and her “Tripwires of Fate” theory presents an almost rational counterpart to the Mistress’ prophetic abilities. @shriika said it best, that Yulia’s character poses the question, can you accept the existence of all the miraculous and unearthly and assign it reason and logic, which Imo first subtly appears in how Yulia treats twyre and disease. She claims that despite twyre’s supposed preternatural properties are “superstitions and remarkably little else. It has psychoactive properties, after a fashion, but then so does simple wormwood.” She likewise claims that the shabnak is no less a “real” than bacteria as a plague-source; that the shabnak and microbes are two understandings of reality. I.e. she says, “You amaze me, Bachelor. Did you not make fun of the shabnak rumours yesterday? […] Still, you don’t hesitate a moment to accept a rumour of an epidemic as veritable truth. Is the concept of the disease that much more familiar to you than that of a maneating abomination made of clay?” To me, these rationalizations introduce how she is a crossroads between the fantastical elements in the story, particularly how Patho Classic treats fate.

Yulia’s character concept best clarifies her Tripwires of Fate theory; that she kept a diary in Town which allowed her to recognize “a rather symmetrical conclusion about the reaction between the movements of those people in town and the seemingly random events happen afterwards. […] Now Yulia is preoccupied with the question whether these patterns are just a coincidence.” She herself says, “The world is defined by a plethora of causal relationships. These causalities, however, are located at different tiers of human perception.” This outlines the foundations of Yulia’s construction of fate, which leads directly into discussion of the Mistresses: “Take my own death, for instance. In our town, such coincidences have put together several women whose inexplicable aptitude allows them to see the whole chain of cause-effect connections. They also see where the chain would lead; which is to my death.” Daniil can then ask how Mistresses predict the future, or whether people can affect the “course of causes and consequences.” Yulia caveats her answer, but clarifies that a Mistress “would not hesitate to reveal the future” only if she “were to intuit that there is not man or woman capable of breaking—or mending—these kinds of connections.” This explanation is based in Yulia’s vocabulary: she uses these cause-and-effect chains of likelihood to foresee events, such as anticipating Clara’s visits. But Yulia’s explanation is one of the most explicit insights the game offers on the mechanisms of the Mistress’ clairvoyance, so I’m inclined to treat it as more than just Yulia applying her own vocabulary to the phenomenon. Rather, as one way the game might want us to see how foretelling works here; especially since this explanation is remarkably close to how Simon describes magic in some game material. 

Simon claims that he does not practice magic, but manipulates “an invisible combination of causes, leading to moderately predictable consequences.” He specifically claims, “To produce a magical construct sometimes requires tens of even hundreds of people. They must be close at hand, and they must be predictable. To take their life line, read them, learn to make a match: that’s an art that you call magic.” Simon’s ‘magic’ appears to parallel the Mistress’ clairvoyance, as it rests within predictable or assured cause-and-effect. It also apparently allows for human action alongside some kind of predetermination, because as the Mistress apparently only foretell futures that individuals’ actions will not change, human will and predetermination are put aside one another, but not apparently conflated. This also recalls Yulia to me in that Simon ‘explains’ his magic through patterns and order—constructs which can be placed on the irrational to rationalize it. With regards to Yulia, Simon’s statement is most similar to when Yulia explains her apparent loss of sense to Daniil in their first dialogue; that she has “lost [her] ability to make distinctive events coincide.”

Another parallel between Yulia and Simon/the Mistresses is their role in constructing the Town. Simon/the Mistresses are its metaphysical architects, while Yulia played a role in its construction or design, having come to town with an engineering team “when the town was being rebuilt.” Yulia also joins her understanding of fate to the Town proper, as her character concept contextualises her theory thus: “there are invisible strings that cross every road in town (collectively — a Path); cutting them will result in a series of harmful accidents.” So to me, Yulia ultimately offers a “rational” equivalent to the Mistresses and Simon in a way, where she helped design the Town and is capable of perceiving the connections between events which grant one the ability to prophesy in-universe. She is logical rather than in the fantastical domain of the Mistresses, characterizing her foretelling through the scientific. She states, “[…] I base my speculations on rigorous research, even though it may not look veritable enough to you. You see, in order to calculate the probability of either outcome, I had to extrapolate the two mathematical functions, which you may find to be somewhat... esoteric” or “Oh, the joy I feel when everything falls well in line with what I have predicated—by which I don’t mean the brute probabilism your mother would sort to, but a watertight, well-ground calculation of likelihood!”  

Yulia also poses an interesting counterpart to Daniil; both are rationalists with a tendency towards the fantastic, yet Yulia is a fatalist and Daniil consistently refutes fate’s existence. Both characters’ theories foreground imminence and inevitability—Yulia literally theorizes over inevitable fate, while Daniil’s fight against death is sometimes framed as one against inevitability. Daniil even tells her, “You wouldn’t believe it, but some of my theories are quire similar to yours” and “The story of my life, believe it or not. Trying desperately to draw their attention to what seems to be painfully obvious, offering any conceivable proof that these ‘coincidences’ must be studied! To no avail.” But what really makes me want to bury myself in the floorboards is Daniil’s claim that, “I would have told you that I’d been brought here by the hand of fate not so long ago, naïve man that I was…” That is. Both Yulia and Daniil appear as people who have, to an extent, distanced themselves in different ways from aspects of Utopian doctrine, but Daniil remains a Utopian while Yulia obviously does not, and instead founded the Humble ideology. Lara’s portrait quote address this somewhat: “This fatalism of hers is depressing and crushing, and it’s appalling to see a mind that bright base its theories upon a false foundation. I believe that any predetermination is an insult to the freedom of choice. I guess it all goes back to the past, when she worked with the Dream Party.” This is my speculation, but I think Yulia’s fatalism and according view of human nature explains her potential broken alignment with the Utopians, as it is incompatible with their ideology.

For one, Yulia’s theory is ultimately about the necessity of death, which is framed as her “crime.” When Clara claims that Yulia isn’t evil, Artemy rebuts her specifically by saying that “Yulia is the ideologist of humility. She came up with a scientific justification of necessary death.” Yulia says of herself, “I don’t qualify as wicked, but you can call me a criminal… in a way. Just don’t conflate the two. You see, I am of the opinion that it was your duty to end us.” Both dialogues suggest that Yulia believed—presumably on account of her dabbles in Fate—that the Plague could only end with Clara’s sacrifice, that the only way out was through death. Besides Yulia’s general we’re doomed talk, she tells Clara, “I get the feeling that every move you make may be reliable predicted. This is not an opportunity I would ever miss for it feeds remarkably well into one of my theories… perhaps, the most pessimistic of them all.” That latter sentence feels like proof, to me, that her theory of “necessary death” is about Clara’s ending. Yulia’s conclusions thus feel antithetical with the Utopians,’ not just narratively, but that the Utopians are all about possibility.

I also want to look at this dialogue between Yulia and Daniil:

Yulia Lyuricheva: Is this so? If I die, the universe would not notice my passing. But what if there are people who are the walking embodiment of the law by which events are connected to each other? What would happen to the universe if any one of these people were to die? Bachelor: Do you think you are such a person? Yulia Lyuricheva: When I was a child I took enormous pleasure in thinking I was one. Later in my life, as a student, I rather saw it as an honour of which I was not necessarily deserving. Today, however, I treat it as a somewhat scornful affliction. Bachelor: Why? Yulia Lyuricheva: People like these are a natural hazard. Their mission exists as long as they believe in it, and others suffer from its consequences.

The dialogue trees point to Yulia speaking about Simon here, and in that sense it provides more possible internal logic for why Yulia became disaffected with Utopianism. Yet Yulia’s portrayal of Simon feels very Clara-esque to me as well. As I have mentioned before, there is a consistent idea to Clara’s character that her faith in herself is what manifests her miracle-working abilities, as according to Rat Prophet, “everything she believes in comes true.” This dialogue with Daniil then seemingly underlies Yulia’s gradual disaffection with Utopian values and subtly introduces her dynamic and view of Clara. Yulia is certainly intrigued and fascinated by Clara, but not particularly warm or empathetic to her. When Clara speaks of being a saint, Yulia is fairly harsh with her, she says, “You? A saint? What kind of imbecile would call you that? Is there even a God that you believe in? You are a changeling, and your sainthood is the lamest kind of mimetic apery.” Yulia appears interested in Clara only insofar as she is convinced that Clara is destined to end her and others in the Town, and in doing prove Yulia’s theories. On the Clara note, I think another element to Yulia’s incompatibility with Utopianism is how Yulia views humanity, since she professes to believe that human nature is evil, telling Clara “Let me remind you how intrinsically evil people are.”

Of course, that might be an exception, but caveats aside: the Utopians believe emphatically in the “power of the human spirit and the infinitive scope of creativity,” a sentiment reinforced by Daniil’s “The point is that in this case, the winner will be […] mere humanity. Any kind of it—even malicious, and yet still a living one.” Humanity appears central to Utopian doctrine, and so someone who considers humanity evil feels necessarily opposed with this to me. I also have no conclusions to this, but cannot stop chewing on how in this game, which so heavily lambasts utopia, Yulia’s conviction in inevitable death is a wicked thing, particularly since she created the philosophy of the healer who manages to break free from fate. I *cannot* stop thinking of it in context of that Saburov quote, that, “A desire for miracles, an endeavour to achieve the impossible... are inherent to humans. However ugly the particular form they might take. Who can dare deprive humans of a dream?” Yet maybe Yulia has some lingering Utopian sentiments? Particularly in her affection for Eva, someone who Imo epitomizes Utopian ideology yet whom Victor describes as “enamored of death so bizarrely and persistently” and resolves her aspiration for the miraculous through her own death. There is just smth about Yulia being in love with someone who for better and worse seemingly embodies Yulia’s potential old ideals alongside her present conclusions about inevitable damning fate...

[wingedblooms]

A true choice

@offtorivendell wrote an excellent meta on how the Asteri might have warped mating bonds, which I think is very likely since they warped Wyrd (who has been called a mother to all, a cauldron of life, a goddess of fate; she is actually a force that winds between worlds, and her language is one of creation). Specifically, they warped her Cauldron, which once blossomed with pure life, and @offtorivendell and others have suggested this may have changed how mating bonds were woven between beings, serving the Asteri’s appetite for magic rather than creation. What if there is even more we need to uncover in the next book? What if the mating bond was never predestined before the Asteri infiltrated their world? What if, instead of a bond chosen for the fae, the fae chose their own mate and had a ritual—an echo of their current ritual—that bound them together with Wyrd’s blessing (magic)? A true choice to bind souls and seal fates together in love. I can’t think of a better book to unravel the mysteries of the mating bond than in Elain “I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”Archeron’s book.

Bonds & bridges | True Mates | Warped bonds | Unbound | The help of priestesses

[lu-is-not-ok]

I see! I see! then in turn, envy probably does fit better, but I'm going to give an alternate viewpoint on these sins that I think you'll find interesting.

personally, I don't think the sins involved are the primary lessons of the sinners, but can be interpreted as the failings of the antagonist. Don is more obvious, given the first kindered's "ingenious" ideas that led to his children suffering. his pride blocking the idea that this dream wouldn't work.

while for heathcliff... I doubt he'd have this much of an issue if more than one person in his life gave enough of a damn, its clear cut that the butlers didn't even bother to feed him if he weren't nelly, slothful neglect.

It's an... interesting viewpoint, I'll admit.

I can definitely see what you mean with the First Kindred's main failing being Pride. Him having excessive confidence in his plans and not pausing to hear out the grievances of his Kindreds more closely is what eventually led to everything falling apart, as he was unable to account for his own flaws and did not foresee the consequences of his actions. That is, very much, a classic Pride move for sure.

...However, I think your assessment for Heathcliff and Canto 6 has some flaws in it. Mainly because saying that "the butlers" are the antagonist of Heathcliff's story is... Did we read the same Canto?

Let's dissect this Chapter a bit to get to the bottom of this and see if there is any way for Sloth to come from a Canto 6 antagonist. For the Canto itself, there are three notable antagonists (-ish). Hindley, Nelly, and Erlking Heathcliff (with a bonus Every Catherine as part of the same archetype).

Hindley's all about bullying and hurting Heathcliff out of his own feelings of inadequacy, he feels as though his father cares more for a random kid found on the street than he cares about him, his own son. His Sins could be read as somewhere between Envy (his lack of self-worth being the core of why he lashes out) and Wrath (him feeling cornered and unloved cause him to try to change it by doing everything he can to get Heathcliff out of the picture).

Nelly is... interesting. Her colluding with Hermann is caused by her feeling like she's trapped, helpless to change her fate of being hurt by the fall-out of whatever happens between Heathcliff and Cathy in every Mirror World. This is, also, a very Wrath-coded action. However... she does accuse Heathcliff and Catherine of being too Slothful to actually communicate their feelings for each other and in the process causing harm to everyone around them. Put a pin in that, I'll come back to this later.

Then there's Erlking Heathcliff and Every Catherine, which have fairly simple motivations. They both independently came to the conclusion that they themselves are the reason why the other can never be truly happy, and so decided that the only way to fix that is to kill every Mirror version of themselves. This can be read as many things Sin-wise, primarily Gloom (sinking into the self-destructive hopelessness of being unable to find a World where they can be happy together) and Envy (lacking a sense of self-worth to the point they fully blame themselves for everything going wrong in every World).

However, while these three are the antagonists of Canto 6, they're not really antagonists of Heathcliff's past. It's... a lot harder to say if there is an exact culprit for the suffering Heathcliff went through during his time at Wuthering Heights, but I'll try.

One culprit I'd like to define as more so the environment itself rather than any specific people. Not just the butlers of the manor, but the whole Earnshaw family and the classist system they all live in. All of that in one way or another contributed to the abuse Heathcliff had to endure.

...Could you define all that Sloth? Kind of, maybe, since it's blind acceptance of the system that led to the abuse. But you could also make a strong case for Pride, since a lot of the abuse came from the people around Heathcliff treating him as a lesser being, as someone who isn't worth as much as they themselves are.

So if not any of the Canto 6 antagonists, and if not the Wuthering Heights itself, then who else could be the source of the Sloth?

This is where I'd like to take out that pin from how Nelly described both Heathcliff and Catherine as Slothful. Because, yes, I believe our Heathcliff and Catherine are in a way antagonists to their own pasts as well. Let me explain.

The miscommunication between Heathcliff and Catherine, their inability to share their feelings with each other, them resigning themselves to never be able to do so. Not only is it one of the main sources of a lot of suffering both they and people around them go through, but it's also, just as Nelly commented, very Slothful behavior.

...Which is. What I would like to say. But unfortunately, Nelly can only describe what Heathcliff and Cathy's actions seem like on the surface - in reality, the Sins that are actually on display are not Sloth.

For Heathcliff, it's Envy - he feels like he's not good enough for Cathy, and so feels like he's not worth it to confess his feelings to her.

For Catherine, it's Pride - she feels like she and Heathcliff aren't on the same level, and so feels the need to help Heathcliff become a better person and reach her level before she can even consider confesshing her feelings to him.

I really, really tried to find a way to make this theory work, cause it is a very interesting one that I think could work considering what we've learned about the Golden Boughs in Canto 7. If they feed on people's desires, it would make sense that the Sins they take on as Saplings are of those they fed from. After all, the Bough stabbed into the First Kindred very clearly sapped him of all his Pride, leading him to lose all of his confidence and belief in his dream. Like, it's too perfect for there to not be an in-universe connection!

Unless... we're looking at this all wrong. While narratively, it makes sense for Heathcliff to be the one unlocking Hokma, in-universe it could be a coincidence. After all, there was no Bough able to feed on anyone's desires in Canto 6. One got obliterated, and one got stolen.

So then what other Bough could have fed on Sloth...

...

AH FUCK YI SANG AND DONGBAEK-

IF THERE'S ANYONE WHO COULD HAVE FED A BOUGH WITH SLOTH IT WOULD BE THOSE TWO GOD FUCKING DAMNIT.