#world and others around them and how memory affects his perception of himself

[almostfoxglove]

THE PRETTIEST

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes' #MONSTERSMASH2024 challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Max Phillips x f!Reader CREATURE: GHOST + MAX PHILLIPS WORD COUNT: 4.3k CW: Smut (piv), voyeurism/non-consensual voyeurism (he's invisible and reader doesn't know he's watching), Max is a bit of a creep okay he's doing his best here, protective!max, jealous!max, enough manager speak that I got tech startup flashbacks.

SUMMARY: After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in.

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Of all the hell holes where one might waste eternity, Max is pretty sure his vacant duplex is the worst of them. Six rooms, two floors spined by a spiral staircase—all boring and hollow and dusty. Disgusting. How difficult would it have been to let him haunt the office? He could’ve leered over all those pathetic little office drones, driven them crazy forever. Fucked with their desk chairs, their hard drives, mixed up all their coffee mugs. Not that Max has mastered the art of affecting the material world yet, but he will.

Petty? Sure. But you can’t blame a guy for feeling a little owed after all management’s little reorganization. His relocation to the goddamn fucking afterlife—and to this prison of an apartment where there’s no one to subjugate or fuck, no less. 

What a waste of his potential. His talents.

Who knows how long he spends stuck alone in this place until someone shows up, but eventually people do. The real estate agent—Doreen and her little beehive hairdo, her eyebrows always penciled on too thin—and, over what Max estimates to be about three weeks, a parade of nobodies she tours around, preaching godless, truthless sermons of the duplex’s good bones and the good life they could have in these dreary fucking rooms. He’d be proud of her sales pitch if he weren’t so goddamn pissed.

He tries, he really does. Yells often, I’m right here, Dor-een, honey, right fucking here! And waves his arms in front of her face, but he can scream as loud as he likes; nobody hears a thing. 

For the first time in his many lives, people walk straight through him. 

There might be, possibly, some karma in that. 

Max doesn’t care for it.

It’s misery until the day Doreen brings him you.

Come on, Max whines, slouching lazily on your couch. Curled up with your bedsheets cloaked over your head, you rot on the cushions beside him, four hours deep in a Desperate Housewives marathon, oblivious to his company: your usual Sunday routine.

As usual you don’t hear him, don’t see him either. Sitting right beside you, making no dents in the pillows, his glossy dress shoes kicked up on the coffee table. Still he finds himself complaining, one hand gesticulating wildly at the screen, You’re killing me, baby. It’s obviously the fucking neighbor! Guy’s got a box of death under his pool!

Meanwhile you just sit there, enthralled as Eva Longoria struts about in her tiny skirts and tiny shoes. Max tells himself the only reason he stays in the room when you watch this garbage is for her and all the other pretty housewives or to leer at what bits of you peek out from your duvet each time you reach for your tea on the coffee table—a wrist, your elbow, and when you knock over the popcorn bowl and slip the sheets from your head, the lovely hollow of your perfect neck. Truth is, if you were to quiz him, he’d be able to cite the plot of the whole season beat for beat.

Not that he’s enjoying this, this—this garbage. Never.

No fucking way. He’s just perceptive. Has an excellent memory.

Plus this is the one way he gets to be close to you. Such a pretty little thing, taunting him without ever knowing it. That sweet mouth, those clever eyes. Showering with the bathroom door sometimes cracked like you know he’s here and dying to peek through the veil of your jasmine-laced steam. Chewing the ends of your pencils while you sketch out some masterpiece on looseleaf that you never get around to painting.

Sitting on your couch, at your dining table, at the foot of your bed while you brush out your hair after a long day—it’s the closest Max gets to feeling like being stuck here might not be hell, just purgatory: always a breath away from the thing he’d like to touch, but at least he’s not simmering in battery acid or being flogged. He’s had his share of blood-bag roommates—brief fascinations that drained so quickly—but you? You’ve lived in Max’s apartment for three months and he’s no less drunk on you than he was the day Doreen toured you around. Can’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s the longing, the forest fire that sears through his ice-box chest every time your eyes skim his face by accident, never lingering. 

What can he say? Max is a man, after all. Under all the blood and monster.

And you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever seen.

When the show cuts to commercial you mute the TV, immune to the serpent-tongued promises of liars like him. Lured by nothing, by nobody. Already slinking from your bedsheet cave, all bare legs and cute little ankles striding out of the room, leaving him with the ghost of you, the smell of your perfume kissed into the duvet.

What he wouldn’t give for the chance to sell himself to you. He’d charm you all the way to your perfect knees.

In a way, you and Max are the perfect couple. You’re free to do as you wish, and he’s free to watch you every second that you spend at home, miserable the moment you leave for work in those tight fucking pencil skirts. No better than a dog, he spends his vagrant hours of isolation alternating between puppy-eyed pouting and anxious pacing, tortured until your evening return. 

How did he ever live here alone? Alive or otherwise. He can’t remember now. There are too many rooms, too few sounds, too few breaths, too few footsteps. He misses you. Your bedhead and pajamas, your blanket nest in front of the TV, the cute way you answer the phone. 

Today, you don’t come home till eight fifteen—and Max has spent thirteen hours losing what’s left of his mind.

Baby, he sighs, rushing for the front room at the first turn of the lock, a grin stretched to dimples in his cheeks. Seems even if you can’t hear him, Max can’t help talking to you, perhaps childlike in his belief that someday you will. Where the hell have you—

His sentence hacks itself in half, drops to silence, because you’re blushing when you come in, eyes shyly downcast, one hand shaking the rain loose from your hair, tendrils clinging to your cheeks. “Here,” you say, and for a beat Max thinks you’re speaking to him. His mouth drops, stunned. 

Is this it? Can you finally see him?

“Come in, come in,” you say.

Then a man steps in behind you, shuts the door behind his hulking form, and if there were any blood to speak of in his veins, Max is certain it’d boil at the sight of him. Tall and empty-headed, dopey as a dog, stomping his blocky, muddy shoes all over your hallway. Yours and Max’s. Getting goddamn filth on your hall carpet. Given just a few material cells, Max’d have this guy dead before he makes it to the living room, wouldn’t even bother drinking him. This breed of dumbass isn’t worth the mess.

But he’s useless. Less than a gnat. Sentenced to watch you trail this motherfucker who wouldn’t know Tom Ford from his Brioni into your kitchen, jackets shedding and small talk traded—boring, boring, boring, but you laugh when the guy makes a shitty joke about the weather. 

This guy, this nobody, gets to make you laugh while Max never even gets a chance to try.

On second thought, maybe this is hell after all.

“S’a nice place,” the dumbass says, laying his knockoff blazer over the back of a barstool. Cheap stitching. Terrible, too-thin lapels.

You look about the room as if standing in it for the first time and for a moment your eyes pass right over Max, whose long-dead heart winces. Yelps. If you could see him, there’s no way you’d entertain this guy. This nameless little worker bee. Max would make you laugh properly, how you laugh when something funny happens on TV or when you get a letter in the mail from your brother. Sudden and twinkling, often ending in a snort. Adorable.

Shrugging, you turn into your fridge and say, “Yeah, I like it,” and exhume two slim cans of vodka seltzer to set on the kitchen island.

Thank you, Max says, his arms crossed over his chest.

The dumbass’ brows flicker up as he regards your offering. Idiot. What was he expecting from a girl like you, a PBR? These are delicious. Elegant. Calorie wise. Max understands. Max would drink that with a smile and a thank you. 

Or maybe he’d skip right to drinking you.

Sensing his hesitation, you crack your can and take a sip. “They’re not as bad as they look,” you say, a nervous chuckle bittering your lips as you watch your date open his can and bring it to his nose to sniff. “Sorry. I don’t have anything else.”

You can do so much better, baby, Max sighs. You’ve got better right here.

Against his will, the hours pass. The evening goes on. You and the dumbass only drink half a can each—him with a half-snarled lip and you with a self-conscious twinge—but somehow by nightfall he’s got you scooching your barstool closer to him, allowing his slimy hand to rest on your thigh. 

Max bristles. Seethes. Don’t do it, he pleads to you, unheard. He’s not gonna fuck you right, just look at him. Send this idiot home and watch TV with me. Do anything but this guy, baby, anything but him.

You bend in slow motion and it’s agonizing, the tilt of your head as you press your lips to his. The wet slurp of his mouth taking the second you meet. A terrible kiss, though you’re polite enough not to flinch. Breaking from the prod of his pink-slug tongue to offer your neck, his mouth immediately moving, and fuck baby, it’s like you’re trying to kill him all over again. Drive a stake straight through Max’s blackened heart by giving up what he longs to claim.

In an instant, anger births itself from the hollow of his chest. His hand shoots out in useless violence, swinging as if to strike a seltzer can from the countertop and knowing it won’t do a lick of good as ire devours him, igneous and fervid, searing hot as life in his icy hands.

The can jumps from the counter and clunks to the floor, its contents gluggluglug-ing across the tiles.

“The fuck?” Max hears the dumbass gasp as he leaps from his barstool, eyes bugged wide and child-like and weak. You freeze, lips pink and swollen, staring down at the emptying can. 

It’s a shame neither of you can see the way Max smiles. 

Now that’s what I’m talking about, he crows. Finally a little substance around here! 

This is good. No, it’s better than good. This is the rush after a promotion, after the deal that closes out the quarter over target. The look on every sad sack’s face knowing they lost and he won.

This is the bite that finally breaks skin.

Maddening, burgeoning, addictive.

He’s real again. A goddamn Beetlejuice for you, baby. He’s gonna scare this fucknut out of here and have you to himself. First was the can, next is you, and he’s gonna kiss you so much better than that. In celebration, Max kicks one foot to send the can soaring across the kitchen floor and watches his shoe pass right through it, aluminum undisturbed on the floor. No, he mutters, kicking again. No, fucking—come on, you worthless piece of shit—

Your nervous laugh is too far away to comfort him. Distant too is your voice saying, “My room’s this way,” and the shuffling of your footsteps as Max loses his shit on the seltzer can that now refuses to budge no matter the swell of his outrage. By the time he snaps from his incensed trance, your barstools are empty. He blinks, breathless with muscle memory—his lungs wheezing because they remember wheezing, not out of need.

Baby? he calls out.

But you reply. A murmur too lusty to be a giggle—Max’s body coils up at the sound, taut and needy, and carries him toward the sound. He forgets, briefly, who you’re with. Believes he’ll find you in your bedroom alone beneath the covers, hands fluttering as you bring yourself to the edge of release. How beautiful you’d be, gasping in pleasure. He might close his eyes and pretend it’s him drawing out your every breathy, needy sound.

You’ve left the bedroom door cracked, and though in death he’s no longer bound by silly things like permission, Max has since you moved in found himself in the habit of respecting closed doors. Walls are chalk outlines over which he’s free to step, but he doesn’t, not if you’ve closed the gate. He’s not a monster. Or not a total monster—whatever, semantics. Point is that he only spies on your showers if you’ve cracked the door. Indulges in the soft moments of you sleeping only when you’ve left him that sliver of room.

Like the room you’ve left him now: slender and tempting, this stripe of your bedroom wall. A Degas print in a copper frame, the wooden post at the foot of your bed. 

Your sweet voice cooing here, like this, and the creak of your mattress.

Something black and silty sinks in Max’s stomach when he steps inside. Not the rage from moments ago. Something darker, heavier. Jealousy. Half-sheeted by your duvet, the dumbass you’ve brought home rocks above you, his shirt gone, his beefcake arm blocking the view of your chest, and though you’re making all the right sounds it’s obvious this isn’t any good.

He’s not fucking you right.

Your hands clawing at his back are too stiff. Your yeses a beat too slow. As the idiot pants—thrusts choppy and graceless—Max watches your hand tap his shoulder blade as you breathe, “Flip over.”

“What?” bumbles the guy, his hips stalling. “Oh shit—fuck yeah. Okay.”

Another grunt, then he rolls off and Max gets a glimpse of you—your red bra lacy and see through, your nipples so pretty underneath. It just isn’t right, the awkwardness of this colossal douchebag as he settles on his back and you ruck back the covers to straddle him, not at all breathless, hardly even flushed, your hair all messy at the back from disappointing friction.

“Shit,” the guy gasps as you sink down on him, clamping those boorish hands onto your waist.

You don’t even whine, not even as you start to rock, though his breathing gallops beneath you. Guy looks two seconds from nutting while you look years away from anything even loosely resembling an orgasm—your rhythm changing often as you try and fail to find a pace that suits you. “Christ—oh my god, ” the guy groans.

Max sucks his front teeth, tongue soiled with venom.

“Touch me,” you sigh, bouncing now. The curtain of your hair shivering down your back. 

This guy fucks like he’s never touched a woman before. At your request his knuckles only pale, fingers pinching you tighter. That’s not what she means, Max growls. Touch her fucking clit, you pin-dicked imbecile. Can’t fucking please a woman, should be fucking ashamed—

His pointless ranting is cut short by a sudden moan as the guy lifts you off him in time to come all over his stomach, chest rapid in its heaving, upper lip snarled in pleasure he doesn’t have the goddamn decency to return to you. For a long moment you hover above him, waiting, but his head just slumps back against the pillow, satisfied. 

Done.

He’s actually done. Motherfucker.

When you crawl off him to sit back against your headboard—arms crossing over your stomach self-consciously—Max sees red. Sees fire. Sees the roiling magma at the center of the earth where someone oughta make this fucker take a nice hot bath. 

He’d do this right. He’d fuck you properly, have you coming apart at the seams, go down on you until you beg for his cock and edge himself for as long as it takes to have you screaming his name. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel him here, right now? Can’t you feel how bad he wants you? Can’t you imagine how much better he’d be? How good he’d make you feel?

Letting out an airy chuckle, the brute wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and pushes himself to his feet. Redresses with a goddamn smirk on his face—not one of cruelty, but it might as well be. He thinks this is a job well done. Time to go home. 

A peck to your lips, then he’s rattling on about calling you, seeing you again, maybe Thursday? Friday? While you just sit there, blinking up at him in disbelief. “Sure,” you say, dazed and not quite thinking. “I’ll call you.”

Yeah, she’s not calling you, Max snarls, following the guy out of the room. Watching as the jackass plucks his jacket from the back of your barstool, steps over the mess of seltzer without a thought to clean it up for you, and waltzes right out the door. Not a care in the goddamn world. 

Though he hears you get up shortly after to use the bathroom, you don’t emerge from your bedroom and Max doesn’t disturb you. He spends that time in the kitchen, grabbing and grabbing and grabbing at the dish towel hung over the handle on the oven door, trying to pull it off. 

For at least an hour, his hand glides through the towel as if it’s water, not a flutter or sway in the fabric. Not even a brush, a compromise. It just hangs there, indignant. Mocking him. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead. Maybe it’s the Senior Sales Manager in him, the apex predator at the top of the food chain—but Max can do this all night. He’s not backing down, not letting a stupid fucking towel get the better of him. That lazy curtain of terrycloth will disintegrate before he waves the white flag. 

Beyond the picture frame windows that stare out into the barren, colorless street, the sun has shied to navy blue, letting out the round-mouthed moon, and you have not emerged from your bedroom for hours. He wants to check on you, ask if you’re okay. Frankly, baby, he’s getting a little worried. On the next sweep of his hand, the towel gives up the ghost; Max pulls it from the oven handle, marveling at the toothy fabric. He’s holding it, really holding it, all on his own. 

Thank fuck he’s not haunting the office. If any of those bull-brained fucks saw him now, as he kneels on your kitchen floor, he’d have to die all over again. Somehow. The technicals aren’t important—what’s important is that no one’s here to see him on his fucking knees, mopping up the spilled drink. Something like joy burbles in his chest when he reaches for the can and seizes it, placing it safely on your counter. The floor dry and shining again, clean. 

Max folds the towel carefully and returns it to the rack. 

As if on cue, the bedroom door croaks down the hall and you emerge. A huge t-shirt slumps from your frame; you’ve tied your hair up, put your glasses back on. Dressed down for the last dregs of night, rubbing the back of your hand in one eye, tired. 

You look so, so tired.

I’d rub your shoulders, baby, Max sighs quietly and though you won’t hear him, it still—after three whole months—doesn’t feel any less right to hope.

He steps out of your way as you round the corner into the kitchen with a yawn, hands clasped behind his back, cheek dimpled and eyes alight. Just like he wanted, just like he hoped, your eyes fall immediately to the floor where the can is missing, the spill wiped. Lashes flickering—the towel dark at the hem on its handle, the empty can on the counter. Your brows pinch low over your nose, curious. 

Pretty good for a dead guy, Max grins.

How sweet, that lifting flinch at your mouth’s sharp, pink corner. The soft hm you make in reply. It’s not much, but this strange, fluttery feeling in the dark cavity one might wrongly call his heart? It doesn’t feel half bad. 

Not bad at all.

He’s getting better at it. Not great, but the projections look good. Give him a little time, he’ll have this whole place dancing. Put on a big show, announce himself properly. 

In the meantime he practices when you’re not looking. Small stuff—he opens cupboards. Shuts them. Hits start on the dryer when you forget to press it yourself. Some days he wastes reaching for things and coming up empty, but now again his luck sparkles. Things move. Bend to his will. Isn’t long until he can hold it for a while—gathering the matter to run the vacuum around, or reorganize your pantry. A tidy house makes a tidy mind, baby. No good living in a dump. You’re so busy, always cracking around like a ping pong ball, and hell, it’s not like Max can leave this place, get a little air in his idle lungs.

He likes being useful to you. Likes that tiny smirk on your lips when you find something fixed or organized for you, even though you likely chalk it up to having forgotten that you did it yourself. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need the credit. Isn’t that strange? How often he smiles at you? How perfect he finds the taste of your name.

Winter has arrived like a secret—whispered about for weeks and then suddenly let loose on the world. You come home from work in the evenings with icing sugar hair. Usually unbothered, far as Max can tell, but today you stagger in flushed from the cold and dark in the eyes.

Shit, baby, Max says when he sees you. Bad day?

Sniffling, you drop your coat right there in the hall, let it puddle over your shoes, and stalk off on a mission, barreling into the kitchen. The fridge door rips open, casting blue-white light over your face, and you must feel a hell of a lot worse than you feel because you don’t even blink at the contents inside. All the shelves wiped clean, the bottles arranged with the labels facing out, those wilted, bad greens deposited in the compost. You just reach in for the half-drunk bottle of Riesling that to Max smelled mostly like juice and swipe off the lid.

You chug on your way to the couch, leaving the fridge door open behind you.

Max closes it when you’ve gone, the TV already switched on in the living room, the lilting strings of the Desperate Housewives theme song swimming through the air. When he turns the corner he finds you wrapped in the throw blanket he now knows the texture of—supple and velvet, weighted and warm—with the wine bottle nestled in your lap. 

A silver tear hangs on your cheek. 

Really bad day, whatever it was. 

He wants to ask. Wants to pull you into his arms and pet back your hair. Wants to lick that sadness from your skin. 

Maybe this isn’t the show he’s imagined. Not much of a reveal—but you look so small right now, alone on your couch. Wine splashing in its bottle as you bring it to your lips, not bothering to wipe that tear away. If Max had a heart that beat, it’d stutter as he watches you. Helpless isn’t something he cares to feel.

No time like the present. Max sighs, scrubs a hand down his face as he ticks his jaw to one side, and nods. Alright, baby, he relents. Hang on.

On his way to the bathroom he cracks all the knuckles on his left hand, rolls his neck, swings his shoulders. Stretches himself long and limber like he’s about to run—but this is it. Curtain’s coming up. Time to find out if one glimpse of him sends you sprinting for the hills. Though he casts no reflection, Max stands before the mirror hanging over the sink and straightens his tie, corrects his lapels. Old habits, but it never hurts to look good.

Hand waggling, then, over the tissue box on the counter. He slaps himself hard, sending a delicious ripple of pain across his cheeks. Come on, he begs. Don’t play hard to get.

The box lifts.

Here he comes: tissue box in hand, stalking tall and proud down your hallway with his chin up, shoulders back. Gets the momentum rolling, doesn’t hesitate, just waltzes in.

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes round and brows rising. To you it must look like the tissues float through the air to your side. Max steps back with butterflies jittering in his bones. 

Don’t be scared, he pleads. It’s just me.

With your head cocked to one side you consider this, though you’ve not heard his voice. Probably for the best. Came out a little softer than he meant it to, a little needy, and that’s just not becoming of a man like him. He has a reputation to uphold, even now. 

After a long, bludgeoning pause you click your tongue, swiping one white tissue from the box to turn over in your hand. Deliberating. Then your face cracks, possessed by a slithering smirk. Your gaze flickering so close to him it’s almost as if you’ve looked him in the eye. 

Deep in his chest, Max feels a strange throb—his stirring heart—as you say out loud, 

“I knew someone was there.”

dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals!

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[lukasadss]

Oh pod Sherlock is making me bawl,,

[linkspooky]

PITY VS. EMPATHY

Jujutsu Kaisen Chapter 265 quickly surpassed Gojo's death chapter as my favorite chapter in the entire manga. It's a high point in both Yuji's character development and the Sukuna fight, a notion most of the fandom agrees with. That being said, it's once again time for me to take a stance contrary to most of the fandom opinion. I was going to make this post two weeks ago but I'm glad I waited, because this week's chapter helps me illustrate my point in the contrasting way Yuji treats Sukuna and Megumi.

As you can probably tell by the title, my hot take of the week is that what Yuji is showing Sukuna isn't true empathy. It's not atn attempt to understand Sukuna's worldview, but rather condescending pity from a place looking down on Sukuna, which is why it infuriates him so much. This is illustrated in Yuji's atual actions this chapter, which is to go at great length to show memories from his past to make Sukuna understand HIM and not the other way around.

Whereas, what Yuji shows Megumi is compassion, because he's not telling Megumi what to feel or imposing his own views on him but rather accepting the fact that Megumi might be suffering too much to keep living on.

I'll explain more under the cut:

Guanyin, Goddess of Mercy

Yuji is, not as far along in his character development as he might seem. I don't want to undervalue his growth, this chapter shows definite progress, and I understand why it would seem that this is the completion of his arc of being a cog in society because he straight up says people don't need roles, and it seems like the manga is quickly coming to a close.

However, sometimes characters words don't exactly match their actions. Sometimes characters aren't self aware. People often call characters multi-layered and complex, but what does that mean exactly? For me, a mutli-layered character is the embodiment of "people are never what they appear to be."

A story has multiple layers when you're not supposed to take everything the author says at face value. Every time you read a story, whether you are aware of it or not you engage in some level of personal interpretation. You're not supposed to automatically accept everything the author feeds you without question. Therefore characters are not exactly what they are stated to be, and good character writing allows room for interpretation for what is going on in a character's head beneath the surface.

In a jungian sense this would be the ice berg model of consciousness. There's the persona, or the ego, which is what the person presents to the world and the people around them. Their own-self conceived image. Then there's the part of the ice berg that submerged, which accounts for all of their internal mechanisms and facets of their personality they aren't aware of. This could range from anything to like, how trauma can affect people's actions without them realizing it, things they are in denial of and don't want to admit to themselves or just like someone who's bossy but not self-aware about that trait until someone else points it out for them.

Everyone's have that friend who you try to call them out on their bad behavior, but no matter how hard you try they just won't admit it. That alone illustrates there's a difference between self-perception, how we view ourselves, behavior - how we actually interact with the world, and pther people's perception of us. Somewhere in between these multiple points of view there exists a vague outline of a person, and personality, whatever "personality" means exactly.

To step away from Jung, in a character writing sense this means a good character's motivations, personality, and actions can be viewed from multiple angles. There is conflict between how Yuji views himself, his actual actions in the story, how other characters might view him, and how he's framed in the story. The first two, Yuji's self-assigned roles, and what his actual actions amount to is a conflict that's run over the entire story.

It starts from chapter three, where Yuji's answer for why he wants to become a sorcerer is that he wants to fulfill his grandfather's dying wish, and Yaga immediately says "Is that what you really believe, or are you just using your grandfather as an excuse?" The story shows us Yaga was right to point out the discord between Yuji's stated motivation and his actual desires because Yuji changes his answer.

This stated motivation, "To do something that only I can do", or have a role as another way of putting it is Yuji's central motivation for most of the manga. Of course as I said people have multiple layers, so he can also have multiple motivations. Yuji's desire to have a good death, him wanting to be surrounded by people when he dies, his belief that fulfilling his role as a sorcerer will save other people from curses, all of these things are equally true but that one desire to have a role to play in the grand scheme of things is at the center of it.

The role Yuji has chosen is to kill curses so people can have more natural deaths, and also to stop more victims of curses from piling up. He's also resolved from the start to die with Sukuna in his body, to also spare victims of curses Sukuna might attract, and also kill Sukuna for good.

Even these stated motions are challenged right away, and then again continually through the comic.

I'm not going to go over Yuji's entire arc here, but the fact that Yuji is someone constantly interrogated for his motivations and even punished in story for his altruism is a constant pattern in his character arc.

It extends deeper than just the fact that Yuji is a selfless person in a world where selfish people like Mei Mei, and Sukuna get ahead while people like Nanami die young. A world where it is in your best interest to stick out your neck for others.

For me a lot of the harsh consequences Yuji's conflict in the story also centers around the fact that he can never live up to the role that he has assigned himself. Not only is Yuji mistaken in his perception of himself, but the fandom in general is as well, because most people tend to take Yuji's stated desire to guide people to good deaths and save them at face value.

For example, people were excited to point out the Guanyin symbolism directly referenced this chapter, and also the significance of the seal for Yuji's domain.

There is much speculation, but it seems certain that this hand sign is an invocation of Ksitigarbha, a revered bodhisattva in East Asian Buddhism. Ksitigarbha is also known as Jizo Bodhisattva in Japan. His name can be translated as Earth Womb, Earth Matrix, and Earth Store. These translations evoke the image of a vessel, which seems relevant to Yuji's role as Sukuna's vessel.

While I agree the symbolism is well suited for Yuji's goals, someone who wished to guide people to a more peaceful death, and also the way Yuji opposes Sukuna right now determined to kill him who lingers in this world as a parasite for a thousand years finally back to the cycle of reincarnation. It even alligns with his desire to try and make Sukuna understand the value in one individual's life by showing him his memories. In that way Yuji is fitting the role of someone guiding others to enlightenment.

However, Yuji is not a bodhivista in the end. He is a normal teenage boy. In fact this is the crux of Yuji's character to me, he is a good kid, but he's not as good as he thinks he is. If anything this is what this chapter goes to great length to demonstrate, that Yuji despite being a science experiment to create the perfect vessel for Sukuna for Kenjaku's 1,000 year plan, had a normal childhood. All of the things Yuji says in this chapter are for the most parts the musing of a normal kid his age.

This isn't me criticizing Yuji. I'm just trying to state the message I believe Gege is getting across in this chapter. It's similiar to the conclusion Yuji himself comes to, the conclusion that the value in life lies in the memories you make on a day to day basis, even if you're not living a life full of adventure.

Yuji's conflict is that he pursues the role of a bodhisvatta, and he holds himself to the standard too of someone who exists to be a sorcerer because by doing his job as a sorcerer people will get saved as a result. However, Yuji as a person will always fall short of this ideal, because ideals by the nature of them being IDEAL and therefore not compatible with reality.

To use an example for another media, it doesn't matter how hard Shirou Emiya strives to save others, or how selfless he tries to be, he will always fall short because the ideal of saving absolutely everyone is impossible. However, in most versions of Fate's story Shirou absolutely refuses to compromise on this and in the future, Shirou will continue to strive towards the ideal of saving everyone until his inability to achieve that ideal and the number of people he's failed to save eventually breaks him.

So Yuji may genuinely hold onto an unbreakable ideal, but is his inability to let go of that ideal necessarily a good thing? His ideal might break but what about Yuji as a person? Yuji will in the end always fall short of that ideal because of his humanity, especially since Yuji is the most human character in the story and practically the only one with a normal background.

There's also as I stated above Yuji might not be aware himself of the ways he falls short of his ideal, because he has a flawed self perception. Yuji is getting closer with his revelation in this chapter of looking at reality instead of trying to have a role like a character in the story, but that doesn't mean he's finished (since the story's not finished) or he's become a fully realized character.

One of my favorite quotes from my favorite Yuji video helps describe the point I'm getting at with Yuji's lack of self awareness and the way he sometimes falls short of the savior he sees himself as.

By assigning himself the role as heroes, and the other characters as victims to be saved Yuji sort of condescends to the people he endeavors to save. I describe this as condescending because this way he doesn't see the people he saves as fully fleshed out human beings who are separate individuals from himself.

Yuji is alligned with Higuruma of all people, someone who shares Yuji's savior complex and becomes disillusioned because the people he decided of his own free will to protect as a defense attorney are not perfect victims.

Someone who becomes disillusioned when looking at flaws in other people, and also cannot deal with his own guilt when he too, becomes like the crimminals he once defended after becoming a murderer.

In fact Yuji sees himself in Higuruma's inability to live with his guilt, and only being able to see himself atoning with his death. Yet, despite Yuji seeing himself Yuji also seems uneasy with Higuruma being unable to see one other way forward in life.

Also, remember that Higuruma is a defense attorney. The whole point is he's supposed to defend crimminals even if he knows they did the crime and try to get them off their sentence and win the trial. Therefore at this moment Higuruma has failed to live up to his ideal.

There's another character Yuji is paralleled to constantly, who also shares Yuji's symbolism of being associated with a divine, and benevolent figure.

Geto's ears, his dressing as a monk in a Gojo-gesa, this official art all connect Geto to be Budha and yet it's quite obvious that Geto has failed entirely to live up to his role as the budha.

There's so much symbolism aligning Geto as a divine figure bringing salvation to others, and this corresponds to his original ideal as a sorcerer who belived that sorcerers had an obligation to use their powers to protect others, because in a just society the strong protect the weak.

Geto is an outsider who wasn't born into the Jujutsu World who entered in with an attitude different from most sorcerers by trying to become a sorcerer for altruistic reasons. However, Geto, like Higuruma grows disillusioned when he's confronted with the fact that the people he wants to save are flawed.

However, Geto's ideal was mistaken to begin with because much like Yuji, by distinctly separating people into the weak and the strong, he's separating them into two categories where the former is inherently inferior to the latter. Other people existed to be saved by Geto. He couldn't cope with the fact that the people he wanted to save were people and not victims.

So we finally circle back to chapter 265 where Yuji is attempting to relate to Sukuna and see some humanity in him... or is he?

Yuji shares the same flaw of both Geto, and Higuruma where he sees the people he wants to save as existing in a separate category than himself. So, is what Yuji is offering Sukuna understanding and an attempt to emotionally reach out to him, or is he attempting to show Sukuna the mercy of a conqueror.

Even if Yuji wins the battle and spares Sukuna's life in the end, it won't be Yuji's compassion or empathy that won him the fight. If Yuji wins against Sukuna it's simply because he's stronger. Yuji only feels confident trying to offer Sukuna in the first place because this time he's finally confident he's stronger. It's mercy, offered at a threat with the same time. Yuji, like Geto, is still separating people in categories of strong and weak, he's just showing mercy to someone he now considers weaker than him which is why Sukuna reacted the way he did.

As I said above, Sukuna begins by just assuming that Yuji had just let go of his anger, and was now trying to reach out to him on some other way. He calls him weak for being unable to keep hating his worst enemy, because in Sukuna's world view Yuji should keep hating him and wanting to defeat him with all his strength to the end. Sukuna mistakenly believes for a moment that Yuji is the kind of person who, cannot sustain his anger even towards his worst enemy.

It's when he realizes that Yuji is just showing him simple pity that he snaps. Yuji doesn't care for understanding Sukuna's worldview or seeing the humanity in him, in the same chapter he says he can't forgive people who act like lives are worthless.

To Yuji's credit he admits he doesn't really know which side of the fight is truly human, or whether or not he's right, he admits it's his own personal belief. A lot of Yuji's wisdom this chapter, I'd argue, comes from admitting the things he does not know, and acknowledging that there's no objective truth or "meaning" to the world. However, he still separates people into "good guys, and bad guys".

Yuji isn't actually that interested in considering the perspective of those he considers the "bad guys" he just still had a faint hope that he could somehow convince Sukuna to see worth in his life by sharing memories, therefore convince Sukuna that an individual's life can have value.

He doesn't want to understand what Sukuna thinks, he wanted to change the way Sukuna thought so it was more like himself. Yuji doesn't ask Sukuna any real questions about himself while exploring his memories. Kind of ironic, because for some reason Sukuna of all people was patiently listening and even engaging Yuji in conversation while he went through the most mundane memories of his childhood.

Irony on top of irony, Yuji's worldview does resemble Sukuna's in some ways. They're supposed to mirror each other after all, Yuji is literally the son of his identical twin brother reincarnated. First and foremost Yuji's offer of mercy isn't really breaking away from Sukuna's ultimate ideal of "Might Makes Right." Yuji isn't seeking some other way of settling this besides fighting Sukuna, he's going to make Sukuna submit because he's stronger.

Maybe there was no hypothetical "third way" for Yuji to put down Sukuna other than fist fighting him into submission. There probably wasn't, Sukuna's pretty up front what he's about, and what he's about is being the strongest and nothing more. He lives and dies by violence, a Sukuna who isn't the strongest is nothing more than a corpse so can that person be reached? However, I just wanted to point out that Yuji wasn't interest in solving this in any way other than a fist fight to begin with. As opposed to say, the way that Takaba handled Kenjaku taking a third route by making Kenjaku feel entertained for the first time in 1,000 years.

In the middle of that fight Takaba even APOLOGIZES to Kenjaku, for saying that it doens't matter if he doesn't understand his audience and he fails to make 1% of them laugh as long as the other 99% of them are laughing and states it's his duty to make everyone laugh otherwise he's failed as a comedian.

Yet, another reason why this is the greatest fight in the manga. Yuta even remarks in the end that Takaba isn't someone who can kill people. Not only does his cursed technique negate most damage to him by turning it into cartoonish antics, but Takaba's comedy is also all about understanding his audience and trying to get his audience to understand him because his comedy began when he clowned around as a kid when he was lonely. All of this to say we've been shown more points of view than just "Might makes Right" and there are characters who've resolved conflicts in other ways. Kenjaku is also, probably as monstrous as Sukuna, and yet Takaba engaged him right from the start by asking him about his motivations and if there was some other way he'd be happy than the merger.

You could argue that maybe Sukuna can't be understood. Characters in the story certainly try to and all they amount to doing is projecting their own ideas onto Sukuna. Yorozu projects her obsession with love onto Sukuna and we get the idea that Sukuna must somehow be lonely at the top, but in the end Gege subverts this expectation by showing us that Sukuna was never lonely, rather characters like Kashimo and Gojo projected their feelings of unresolved loneliness onto him. They are strong, and he is strong, ergo he must feel the same crushing loneliness as them. Gojo himself demosntrates not understanding Sukuna as he expresses regret in the afterlife that he was unable to make Sukuna go all out and that he related to that guy's loneliness only for Sukuna's response to be a very gratified "You cleared my skies."

Sukuna: Others love us for our strength, and we respond to that love.

The twist of that is Kashimo and by extension the audience assume that Sukuna must not understand love, and therefore he's lonely. However, Sukuna all along had his own definition of love, that people express their love and admiration for him by trying to fight him and he receives their love by facing them at his full strength and giving them the chance to prove themselves. Sukuna's habit of toying with his opponents is an extension of this he wants to see them realize their full potential in their fights with him. Sukuna does understand love, he just REJECTS our understanding of love. Sukuna does not think in the way that we do, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have things he values, or is devoid of positive traits. Respect for his opponents, honoring strength, these are all values they're just not Yuji's values.

As stated above, the irony of all this is that Yuji does buy into "Might makes Right" to an extent. To reiterate, following Geto's "the strong exist to protect the weak" still divides people into two categories strong and weak and implies the weak are helpless. A benevolent might makes right, as you might say. Yuji wants to show compassion to the weak, but he also loathes weakness, he loathes himself for being weak.

"There still may be lots of people who are weak like you."

Higuruma even points out the flaw in his mindset, well if you loathe yourself for being weak, then what about other people who are weak do you loathe them too? I think it's no coincidence that Yuji is paralleled not one, but two (Geto, Higuruma) people who tried to use their strength in benevolent ways only to start out loathing the people they were trying to help. I'm not saying that Yuji secretly hates weak people, but his mindset of black and white, weak and strong, a mindset that can't accept the greys of reality is a dangerous mindset to have and Yuji has the potential to become like those two.

However, these parallels exist for us the audience to see just how close Yuji was to repeating the cycle, because it makes it that much more meaningful when Yuji grows in ways that Geto and Higuruma doesn't to move one step forward towards breaking that cycle instead.

Yuji is someone who experiences the same loneliness as Sukuna and Gojo for being the strongest, though to a lesser extent because he wasn't born into the realm of sorcerers. At the start of the manga we're introduced to Yuji a kid who despite being someone friendly to everyone he meets and incredibly social, has a friend group consisting of two friends. Two friends who hang out with him because they need a third member for their occult club. Yuji for the whole manga excluding one exception really only knows how to form relationships based on someone else needing him.

Noritoshi Kamo: Itadori why did you become a Jujutsu Sorcerer? Itadori Yuji: It just sort of happened. i'm a loner. I wanna help a lot of people so when I die I'll be surrounded by people.

Yuji has also appeared in flashbacks in early culling game as someone who doesn't really understand, or even take notice of weak people. Yuji in Amai Rin's flashback is beating up bullies, a heroic notion, but from the perspective of somone spineless like Amai who was just going along with the bullies so he himself wouldn't be bullied because he didn't have the strength to stand up with them, and wasn't born with the body of an MMA fighter at fifteen, Yuji looks scary.

The reason why reducing people to labels like strong and weak is reductive is that humans are complex and contradictory creatures. Let's take Amai Rin for example, an incredibly minor character. In the real world, Amai Rin would be someone as equally complex as Gojo Satoru. Amai Rin a middle school bully would have just as many layers to his personality, inconsistencies, contradictory behavior, different sides of himself as Gojo Satoru himself.

Humans are complex in the first place because we can't see inside their heads, we can only see inside our own heads and know that we're complex and sometimes say things we don't mean, behave differently depending on the situation, do things we're not proud of, but we also usually don't perceive others the same way because we are not inside their heads like our own. Amai Rin is just as complex and multifaceted a human being as Gojo Satoru, he is a person with his own memories and life experiences that shape him, but from Gojo's worldview Amai Rin is a minor character. By reducing him into someone weak, Gojo doesn't care to try understanding him.

So Yuji for the longest time does not try to see the humanity in weak people (except for his big moment with Junpei) he just sees them as people to be saved. Which is why his real moment of progress to me comes the next chapter, with the way he shows empathy to Megumi.

Yuji begins when speaking to Megumi by relating his frustration with his grandfather for not wanting to go through chemo and accepting his own death in old age. Yuji is now mature enough to understand that just because his young body is tough enough to endure chemo, doesn't mean an old man's body can withstand that pain. When he was young Yuji had a very immature viewset of "Well, I can endure it, so why can't they?"

Yuji then compares the situation with his grandfather to Megumi. Yuji wanted his grandfather to keep living, so he couldn't understand why he wouldn't even try the chemo. Yuji wants Megumi to keep living, but he now understand why Megumi wants to give up. Yuji' fe elings of wanting Megumi to live are not more important than Megumi's own feelings of despair and wanting to escape pain.

Yuji is no longer imposing his feelings onto Megumi. Yuji is respecting Megumi's feelings, because in the end he can't FORCE Megumi to live. It has to be Megumi's choice whether he wants to live or not.

Yuji is no longer pushing Megumi away, or acting protective of him, while disregarding his feelings. He has gone from "as long as I'm around you'll suffer" to "I'll be lonely without you." Yuji doesn't ASK Megumi to live even though he wants to, because he knows he can't tell Megumi to keep on living. What Yuji does is just an honest expression of his own feelings. He's sharing his own feelings after listening to Megumi's ideal life with Tsumiki and Yuji, because that's what empathy is, an exchange, a conversation.

People often jokingly use the term "yap sessh" on Twitter, but yeah that's the different between a conversation and a "yap sessh" in the former you actually care what the other person has to say, in a latter it's only about expressing your own opinion.

That's why this panel, is such a perfect contrast with this panel.

One is Yuji offering Megumi a choice. The other is Gojo taking Megumi's choices away by giving him the false choice of "go to the Zen'in Clan and be a sorcerer and your sister will be abused, or come with me and be a sorcerer." Gojo railroaded Megumi into being a sorcerer and never let him decide for himself if he wanted a normal life. Gojo didn't see Megumi as his own person either, he, just like the Zen'in Clan just saw Megumi as the holder of the Ten Shadows Technique.

This is entirely different to Yuji who respects Megumi's feelings. Yuji expresses that he'll be lonely without Megumi, but that's just laying the cards on the table. In the end Yuji leaves what happens next entirely in Megumi's hands. Yuji cannot tell Megumi to live, even though he wants him to live so badly, he cannot tell Megumi to just get stronger and keep on trucking because he's not Megumi, he's not experiencing Megumi's pain right now.

Yuji does not tell Megumi to live and therefore becomes the first person in Megumi's entire life to give him a choice. This choice is the most important choice of all, a choice we make every day of our lives. The choice of whether we want to keep on living in this world.

Hopefully, Megumi chooses yes.

[q-ueen-potato]

GUESS WHO IS BACK?!?!?

Yes ME with more about my Cosmic Royal au

(Again thank you for @crazysaru99 for all the amazing drawings and the help on the au. Without you this wouldn't be possible)

The fairies are split in classes and the number of their wings is directly affected by it. It is possible to change the perception of the wings ture nature but not the wings itself. Like a mirage or illusion.

The way to de terminate what class each belong is

First class - Royal family, seelie court(main family) and the council.

Second class - Seelie Court(other family memmbers), some aristocracy and knights (may add other folk)

Third class - commom fairies

After Cosmo Sr. was born there was an event to introduce the royal prince to the fairies, on this same day Jorgen meet the prince.

Jorgen is a first class fairy as he is from a main family on the seelie court. He also have knights in his family being part of the fairy army.

His mother fought in the great magical and he was really close with the royal family. He also doesn't remember about them since this was long long time ago.

He is just a bit older than his aunt Tuli Von Strangle (Mama Cosma)

While growing up, Cosmo Sr. didn't minded about how his father would soon forget, he always wanted to share his day and tell stories and just be around his dad.

Gonzo didn't ignored his child willing as he would mostly dissociate for a long time or forget where they are for a moment. He would always recognize his son thou, even if for a moment in his memories he was just a baby.

The events that lead to Gonzo's state was a mix of the attacks during the great magical war, his own stress and his own magic.

Stella had to assume the head of the family since the day they scaped the castle and even if she feels ready to break she will rise her head and face what she needs to do.

The secret will be revealed on a festival, Timmy had learned about a anual festival that happens in fairy world and wished to be there. It wasn't prohibited for godkids and Timmy even found one or other godchild around the fair so this was fine.

The festival was to honor and celebrate all the lives lost during the Great Magical War. The current Fairy King, King Oberon, was giving a speach about the honor of his family and the sacrifices of the crown withou a single remorse even if he knows he is a fake.

Eventually Cosmo distracts himself to get something to eat and find his mother, they argue as she tries to bring him back to her and Cosmo Sr. who just happens to be there goes in defense of his son.

Wanda appears with Timmy and because of their arguing they accidentally end up in one of the old tunnels

The tunnels are a giang catacombs under the fairy castle connecting the dungeon and other areas. One of the areas is a garden where the mural made to celebrate the birth of the prince

The mural was abandoned but the faces are easy to recognize

And then the secret of the royal family is revealed. With a wish, Timmy let the truth spread for the fairy world

After facing the council and being revealed what was done, Cosmo Sr. Is crowned King Cosmo I.

And his family restored to the throne as they deserve.

Cosmo Sr. have a talk with his oldest son Schnozmo that because of all he has done is welcomed in the family but cannot be a heir to the throne leaving this to Cosmo.

Alot of fairies wanted to Cosmo and Wanda stop being godparents because of their current status but they couldn't do it as their heart is to make children happy, and they love Timmy too much

[the-demon-prodigy]

oba yozo and warped perception

ok heres an absolutely giant analysis (its 2k words ermm) that i wrote in an essay format! i cant rlly say im proud of its strength as an essay but i do like the concepts i brought up here so i might eventually redo but it took me literally a week so i cant not post it

yozo is my little guy i want to put him under a microscope and study him like a bug/aff

its under the cut :]

TW: su1cide, s3xual a$sault, misogyny (all mentioned, not depicted)

Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human, a Japanese literary classic, is told through the writings of the protagonist, Oba Yozo. Yozo is a deeply traumatized and alienated human being, and his perception of both himself and others is distorted by his traumatic experiences.

Yozo makes the judgement very early on in his life that he lacks what constitutes humanity. He separates himself from humans because of this, but unable to renounce their society as he is, he instead opts to display a public facade of light-heartedness and, on occasion, foolishness. Yozo feared that which he did not understand, and he therefore feared people, finding them and their society riddled with unspoken societal guidelines, utterly incomprehensible. (It’s likely that Yozo only feared the unknown so much and only came to this conclusion due to his intelligence, which he is mentioned to have, at least academically. Generally, it would be extremely unlikely that Yozo is an unintelligent character, seeing as how often he pokes and prods at the philosophical and existential.)

Yozo finds himself inhuman, due to how he fails to understand that which humans seem to be born into this world understanding. Additionally, he lacks something in his nature that he believes to be absolutely inherent to humans: a deep, animalistic anger. Yozo never describes being angry throughout the book; he only fears, and fears, and fears some more, until he fears every last thing in this world. It’s likely that this immense fear came only as a result of the life he led. Even in his teenage and adult years, he gauges himself to not be seen as a friend or even a person to some of the people he knew, thus determining that he had never made a friend. And, having been sexually assaulted at a very young age, it’s only natural that Yozo would believe human beings to be cruel and animalistic by nature, hence justifying his fear. 

The childhood trauma that Yozo suffered also caused further complications in his life, outside of the obvious feelings of needing to please in order to be ‘safe’. Yozo seems to have difficulty processing/facing outright his emotions and traumatic events, his flowery style of writing carefully dancing around describing exactly what happened to him. I doubt that Yozo has truly suppressed the memories of his childhood, but he at least doesn’t process them correctly. Yozo also does this in regards to things that remind him of his trauma or, in other words, trigger him.

It’s important to note that the presentation of No Longer Human is inherently biased. There is not a single scene told from objective reality, even in the prologue and epilogue which aren’t told in Yozo’s perspective. While the unreliable narration is pivotal to exploring the recesses of the human mind, it’s impossible to grasp exactly what actually happened at any given point. Had Yozo outright lied about certain things? Were there times when he had forgotten important memories that eventually constituted his personality? Yozo himself even admits to having a side of him that exaggerates for effect, not even to his benefit, and it leads a reader to wonder just how much was affected by that trait of his. 

In the epilogue, one of Yozo’s acquaintances says that the way that his life turned out was due to his father: “it’s his father’s fault.” However, Yozo barely talked about his father in the book, save for mentioning his fear of being reprimanded, which was par for the course for anyone that Yozo spoke to. Although his father did affect the way that Yozo lived, with the information that Yozo gave, it would be impossible to say accurately that it was his father’s fault. 

Although it’s tempting to instead say that Yozo’s unfortunate circumstances only worsened because of him, it’s important to note that Yozo demonizes himself endlessly. Yozo feared humans to the point of decreeing all on his own that he was disqualified from their race, but he still sought out love from human beings. He still wished for connection, but because of Yozo’s deep-seated self-hatred which came only as a result of seeing the most distasteful parts of humanity as a young child and feeling alienated from that, Yozo ended up separating himself. However, Yozo states over and over again that he fakes things, that he has a facade, that he only plays the clown and is not one, but it’s impossible to tell whether Yozo was truly the faker he thought that he was or if that was truly his personality and he simply didn’t know it. 

No Longer Human also has misogynistic themes, at times. While Yozo states that this is because he finds women to be boring, it’s possible that he is, once again, being unreliable, and the true reason that he has an aversion to women is because he experienced sexual assault at the hands of women from a young age and, many times throughout his life, he has experienced love with women that failed to come to proper fruition, hence causing his aversion to women and becoming attached to them.

Yozo spends the majority of the book fairly lost, not understanding humans, not understanding himself. So who is to say that Yozo was truly a liar, or that he simply thought that he was? It’s possible that Yozo only internalized the concept that he was a calculating, deceptive young man in order to make the thought that humans would never love him easier to swallow. 

Yozo being the intelligent and alienated sort of person that he is, he comes across as slightly conceited at times, seeing as he’s rather opinionated, and internally refers to one of his acquaintances as an utter fool completely lacking in artistry, for example. With this acquaintance, he plays two word games, and his opinions can tell us quite a bit about him. The first game is about tragic versus comic nouns. Yozo believes that, just as pronouns can be divided between masculine, feminine, and neutral, nouns can be divided between tragic and comic. It’s primarily a game of connotation (for example: steamship and steam engine are tragic, while bus and streetcar and comic). 

Of the highlights of this game is that Yozo’s first opinion is that death is comic, while life is tragic. This is a reflection of his unique view on death, specifically him seeing it as a sort of cathartic relief, in comparison to life. Yozo views his own life, particularly, as shameful, making it tragic.

The second game is about antonyms. Yozo’s first example is that black is the antonym of white, but the antonym of white is red, and the antonym of red is black. In order to get a different result each time, you will need to repeatedly switch your perspective. Black and white are visually in opposition. Red is only the antonym of white figuratively, however. White is surrender while red is offense, white is purity while red is tainted. Black is the antonym of red in that red is fierce and passionate, while black is empty and void.

These also reflect Yozo’s personality. He is visually the opposite to humans, seen in how an outsider views his photos in the prologue. He is tainted, or corrupted, because of the crime that was perpetrated upon him as a child. Yozo also experiences his emotions in a complex way, sometimes void, like ‘black’, but at other times too heavily, like ‘red’. 

(And you, dear reader, may ask, “Aren’t you focusing too much on Yozo’s sexual trauma?” and I’d respond, “No Longer Human is an inherently subjective work due to the lack of representation of an objective reality. Yozo may ignore his sexual trauma more often than not, but I don’t have to, as that kind of experience is part of what created the ‘Oba Yozo’ that we come to see in the novel, regardless of how often it is directly addressed.”)

It’s also important to note that this example that Yozo provides is a one-way street. Black to white, then white to red, then red to black. Red is not the antonym of white, despite the fact that white is the antonym of red, because the antonym of white is black. This disjointed yet ultimately related style of thinking is reminiscent of the way that Yozo fails to properly reconcile all the concepts that he contemplates daily and how he fails to process things that were traumatic.

A highlight of the little antonym game that Yozo and his acquaintance played was when Yozo’s acquaintance mentioned that the antonym of crime was sure to be ‘the law’. Yozo internally scoffs at the concept, and states that crime belonged to a different category. Through the following paragraphs, it becomes apparent that Yozo sees crime as being a moral concept at heart. Whether or not something is a crime is not dictated by whether it defies the law or not, but by an intrinsic judgement system that exists within the heart of all people. He also states that vice is different from crime. Vice is a societal construct in Yozo’s eyes, whilst crime is not. Crime always exists and will continue to, even if there are no people in existence to observe it. Crime may even be above morality in a sense; there exists things that are crimes even to the earth itself. To Yozo, at least. 

To Yozo, punishment is the antonym of crime. Through a reflection of Dostoevsky's work, Yozo came to the conclusion that crime would only be paired with punishment if they were meant to be of completely opposite affiliation.  The reason his brain works in this way is because of the unique life that Yozo has led. Because the most horrific of crimes that were perpetrated upon him were met with no punishment, it’s only natural that he would see the two as inherently disconnected concepts.

Yozo also loses plenty of people important to him; Tsuneko and his father, to name two. Although the grief that Yozo experiences is very rarely directly addressed by him, it’s crucial to take into account the effect of these events on Yozo. He spends the latter parts of the book impacted by grief, and it shapes the ‘Yozo’ that we see. There is no objective reality in No Longer Human, there is only the clouded lens that Yozo views it through, and this concept permeates the entire story, which means that if, perhaps, Yozo hadn’t lost the people that he did, the second half of the story would be different. The entire book would be different if told from the perspective of someone else; this is where the truly genius subtext of the novel lies, in the fact that almost everything that the viewer ends up consuming about the story is Yozo’s own thoughts, inseparable from the experience of reading the novel.

“He was a good boy, an angel,” is the final line of No Longer Human, said about Yozo by one of the people who knew him. The unlovable, monstrous, deceptive Yozo that he claimed himself to be for his entire life was perceived as an angel by those around him. Yozo accentuated the many ways he had been taken advantage of, the things he had to keep secret, and yet someone who barely knew him was fond of him in a way he would never process as true had he been present for that moment. One might even say that there were a number of people in this world who loved Yozo.

By existing in a world that he determined could only ever be lonely, Yozo’s perception of humans was warped by the multitude of ways that he had been broken by others, and his perception of himself was warped by his personal opposition to the definition of ‘human’ that he had crafted. This is the core of what makes No Longer Human tragic: the fact that Yozo was seeing an emptier world than all others, and he had given up on his life before it began. That Yozo will never see the world that he lived in for what it truly was.

[slutterhaus]

.resemblance

AN: I love F&H and I love angst, so why not mix them together with one of my favorite boys? CWs: Angst no comfort, very light smut, mourning and mentions of death, unhealthy coping mechanisms, light spoilers. Other: Second Person POV, GN!Reader, reader's fate is up to you. Not proofread, we die Moonscorched. Under read more for obvious reasons.

Looking at his eye should have brought you peace, it should've made your heart skip a beat in this intimate moment, yet all it brought were thoughts that made your gut wretch. Ever since you met him in Prehevil you were enamored with Daan, and for a moment, you felt as if he was too. But the realization that you simply bore a resemblance to his late wife made it all too clear that you were nothing more than a placeholder, a what could have been if Elise had never ended up at that stitched up thing. It made your blood boil, teeth clenching as he thrusted into you.

His grunts filled the room, your own noises having died down as soon as your train of thought began. Daan didn't seem to notice either, even as perceptive as he was, perhaps because he was too caught up in his own world and how your hole clenched around his cock. That only served to make your anger and resentment worse.

Even when he finished and cleaned you up, the scowl had already made its way to your face. And when he handed you his cigarette for you to take a drag from, you let the heat of the smoke settle on your tongue. Such an intimate moment, ruined, and he had finally taken notice. The silence of the room was deafening, worse than having all those horrible noises from outside surround you, and the tension was thicker than the fog that engulfed the city. Daan eventually broke the silence by clearing his throat, but it only earned him a glare.

He wondered if Elise ever looked at him that way, if she held the same anger in her eyes when he couldn't save her. And now he's dragged you with him into his misery, because eyes that once looked at him with affection now bore holes into his head, all because he let himself fall for the smallest hope he had of being with his wife one last time. Which ironically, was what happened after he left the building to continue on with this fucked up festival, only in the worst way possible. He couldn’t leave her like that, turned into a monster by some cruel God. And gods did the wound in his heart open again as he held the limp body in his arms for a second time.

Even when it was all over, when he was back on the train, his mind wandered. Your face morphed with Elise's, then to that stitched up monstrosity that he refused to believe was his wife. It was like his own personal Hell, and the devil chuckled behind him with a Cheshire cat grin. Daan knew he couldn't outrun it, could never escape this horrible hole he found himself in.

His chest burned at his last fond memory of you, where you comforted him after one of the passengers had just Moonscorched. Your delicate hands running through his hair at the bar's couch, the way your lips placed a soft kiss onto his forehead, just like Elise did. A scoff left his lips, knowing how much he hurt you with the exact comparison. He knew his wife was gone, and know, because of him, you were too.

[runin-reads]

Trans James Potter headcanons

This is just me brain dumping for my current prongsfoot WIP where James is a stealth trans guy and how this would affect the way he navigates relationships and his place in society. I try to base my writing on canon text so let me know if anything is inconsistent with the books

Not much would change. I see Sirius as someone who genuinely doesn’t care for a guys physical traits when it comes to falling in love. He’s perceptive and can see past a persons facade in seconds. He sees James as just another guy and falls for him because of his character— anatomy be damned. So wrt to their relationship they’d still be obsessed with each other and fit into that ‘two bodies one soul’ narrative

Nothing is off limits between them so I imagine Sirius would be very involved in James’ transition. He helps him do his T shots and he’s always the first person to notice and be told when James goes through a certain change

James would be the type to identify as a guy his entire life. It’s established in the books that his parents were very doting and wealthy, so even though they’re elderly I think they would accept James as their son and he’d have the support available to transition early on. James would be such a different person if his parents didn’t spoil him as a child, so I want to keep that aspect of his upbringing no matter what.

the way he would view his trans-ness would differ greatly from the current generation. I imagine there would be a huge dissonance between him and the label “trans” because he’s seen himself as a guy for as long as he can remember.

His idea of masculinity would be very hetero-normative given the time period he was raised in. His parents were happily married his entire life and I think their relationship would influence how he imagines his own future to be like. He wants to be a father to a child and a husband to a wife, and he subconsciously decides that that is the way a man should be.

In Snape's Worst Memory it’s implied that James cared a lot about what others think. While he and Sirius are antagonising Snape James kept looking back to see if the girls (namely Lily) were watching. I think being trans would only heighten this urge to be cool and popular. He’d love the attention he got from girls because it affirms his masculinity and he’d put a lot of effort into maintaining his image

I’ve already written about how prongsfoot (james/sirius) is queer coded. To add to that, there are two possible ways by which James deals with his not-so-platonic feelings for Sirius. One, he accepts these feelings much more easily than he would have in canon because he’s already trans so what’s a little more queerness. Two, he denies these feelings, preferring to stick to the hetero-normative standards set by his parents and society. (Both possibilities are based on my own experiences as a trans guy so trust me, trans people can still experience internalised homophobia)

On a more lighthearted note he’s the type of guy to try to put a permanent sticking charm on his packer/STP device lol. Key word: try. Sirius would talk him out of it but he would at some point find a way to use magic to keep his packer from falling out in the changing rooms etc.

His confidence would only grow once T starts taking effect on his body. He'd probably brag about his bottom growth to Sirius which, unbeknownst to James, ends up flustering Sirius a LOT

He doesn't bind because even though puberty blockers weren't used back in the 60s/70s, let's just say Monty and Effie found a magical alternative like a potion for example

idk if the wizarding world has its own equivalent of gender affirming care and I highly doubt JKR ever wrote about it, so I'll go off on a limb and say James uses both muggle and wizarding methods to transition depending on what's more convenient for the plot of my fic

NSFW

If j/s did fool around I think James would be pretty bossy in bed lmao and he'd be very adamant that Sirius should avoid 'female' terms for his body and stick to words like 'cock' or 'front hole'

It would take a long time for James to be open to intercourse so uh they'd get very creative in the meantime

not an expert on magic but James would definitely find a way to like charm his packer so that it gets erect and he can continue living in stealth.

[2dboisloyal-devotee]

Alice in the Country of Hearts Yandere Roleholders Headcanons Part II

Feat. Nightmare, Blood, Elliot, Dee & Dum, Julius

Part 1

Warning: minor spoilers, possible OOC (some may seem to not change much but few others traits do get amplified), cunning mfs (yes, all of them), unhealthy controlling behaviour, possessiveness, memory alterations of reader, a bit suggestive, implied violence/shooting and dismemberment mention (not towards reader), a kind of long read/2,1k word count

For the twins... it's a thin line tbh, but I'm not going to make it explicitly... illegal-romantic like the game intended to.

Please proceed with caution.

Nightmare Gottschalk

You're such an open book yet full of pleasant surprises to Nightmare—like a book he won't ever get bored of and will always keep close to him no matter how much you might despise yourself. The moment you're seeking him out to clear up your doubts and regrets, he already invites you in the door of answers without you realizing. You shouldn't have held on to such a feared and suspicious person like him—a puff of smoke aren't palpable to the touch after all... but once you're wrapped in it, you can only find solace within the smoke itself with no hope of getting out

Ignorance is bliss as they may say. But if that's one way to keep your happiness lasting, then so be it. Nightmare's reassuring act shows that all you need to do is focus on the present in this world where you can have anything you want, even in the dream world where everything can be shaped at your will. It's all as peaceful as you want it to be... gaps in memory and the days blending in may occur sometimes it's w̴̡͎̙̉ẽ̸̠͐i̸̫̬͔͂r̶̦̖̈̃̏d̸͚̐͝ What? Isn't it only natural you can be very tired on some days? All the more reason to let him be by your side.

Don't get your head too deep in thinking about your distant past... Everything up to this point is already forming your past ahead in the later time and since the very start, you've always been here spending the time with him mostly and visiting others on occasion. Nothing changes much and you don't miss out on anything so why would you feel as if you're missing something now? Even Nightmare is still the same as ever, he's always between coddling you comfortingly like a mature adult or as if a clingy child needing attention for you to spend the time having fun with him in the dream world. Please don't leave him alone too much, you wouldn't forget to take care of a sickly person like himself, right? That's why Nightmare can't help but to check up on you anytime he can.

There are still many kinds of things you haven't tried out with the still time not affecting your perception so you're always welcome to stay and be safe forever.

Rival: the ?????

Bʅσσԃ 𝐃𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐞

It's mostly out of spite when Blood takes a liking to you because you're the one who causes him to become like this. The people around feel more irritating than usual and the world seems more boring to the point his favourite tea taste bland at some point whenever your presence isn't anywhere near him. Whatever entertainment he could use around here, he supposes you would suffice. Besides, you're certainly an interesting one if you keep choosing to meet him of all people. Blood sees there's much more to you than meets the eye... So he thinks, why not push your buttons when he has the time on his hands? But you have to know your place in case you ever forget; you're only a temporary plaything he can dispose of anytime.

It's a pleasure for Blood to have you as an assistant/servant who serves his tea and occasionally help tidying documents in his room, you're no longer merely a guest to him which is shown obvious in a heated intimate way or... marks to anyone else (except Elliot who mostly misunderstands to an entirely another thing that makes the atmosphere weird). Putting that aside, Blood does enjoy his work break, even more so when it's just the both of you without having some nuisance ruining the serene atmosphere and sophisticated conversation to pick up any cues or important information he could make use of. You should realize by now that you're not a mere plaything, anymore, to him you've become a meddlesome thing. He feels like he has retained a similar bond; one he used to have in his past with a certain family member. It would be unwise for you to just turn up and leave... wouldn't it?

Blood is all for exploiting your heart at his will so you could not think about going anywhere else to the others at all. Controlling how you should act in front of people and restricting your time outside more due to jealousy—even with him being Vivaldi's young brother—doesn't do him much good if he were to be honest because things can get ugly fast, but this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you. He may hate sunny days and acts as if everything is a hassle, but he won't think twice to shoot some people down if they seem too friendly with you for his liking since having a discussion is just too much a trouble. That'll show not to mess with the lover of the Mafia boss.

By the time you realize you're trapped in the thorns of alluring roses that you won't be able to fight back anymore until you can only wither... it will be already too late.

Rival: Vivaldi

ᴇʟʟɪᴏᴛ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ

Getting to know him on a deeper level requires being Blood's acquaintance close enough that he'll introduce you to the seeming rabbit subordinate, or sharing all carrot-related things to bribe him with. Elliot would literally melt when you show a small gesture of kindness to his unimportant self, especially if he only knows you as someone important related to Blood and after you pass the qualification of not being a threat.

Maybe all those times Elliot stubbornly refutes him being such a rabbit hold some truth to them. Whenever you refuse his simple wish to take a walking break with you, he unconsciously shows the sign of looking like someone just kicked his puppy—except he is the puppy, with drooping ears and eyes lit up when he meets you. This big puppy loves being spoiled with all the attention you can shower him. He doesn't understand why he feels as if you're a really big part of his world and revolving around it with him being in the middle, dizzy yet intoxicating... But it feels only right because it's you. At the same time, he's unaware that most of these muddled black feelings can harm you in the process. Elliot is gullible, he doesn't have any love experiences and that may be the only flaw you could think of. For that same reason, he will also take matters into his own hands on deciding things he misunderstands/hasn't yet understand for you. The example would be when you look the slightest bit uncomfortable with someone. Well, that person will go down behind the scenes now.

Elliot thinks if you cause him to feel that many feelings, you must really need him as the only one you can be happy with, the only one you can depend on—the only... everything for you, then you're just the same as him! No sweat! He knows just the way to make it better, thus he tries his best to reciprocate your feelings childishly or boldly so that you don't need to care about anything and anyone else. He can be categorized into the obsessive and delusional group in a nearly same lever as Peter yet akin to Blood's method. Being selfish in more ways than one included with his clueless nature is troubling. All the more when Elliot doesn't have a need to understand and wanting to do all kinds of things with you as it's just normal.

You would never look wrong to someone who sees you as the apple of their eye. But if you do end up choosing to leave (a mistake if he knows one), Elliot can always turn things into the right direction back.

Rival: Julius

ᵀʷᵉᵉᵈˡᵉ ᴰᵉᵉ & ᴰᵘᵐ

The twins are a force to be reckoned with, especially when it's involving the person they like. Dee & Dum both decide to label you as their favourite person the moment you keep playing along with their shenanigans while still having a moral compass. It's more of a plus if you're so mature-like! Wondering how long that compass will still be intact makes them really want to mess you around (figuratively) that you won't care about which one is good or bad anymore as long as you count on their twisted trustworthy perception.

Demanding and not even tame for what may look like children, simultaneously maintaining an innocent tone with a bamboozling purpose are the known popular characteristics of them. The twins want to spend the time with you doing anything following their whims to what they're in the mood for (you won't have a say in this unless you're strong enough to oppose them). But don't worry! You're guaranteed to have fun doing it. If not? Well, they just have to switch to another activity! It's also quite okay if you can't choose between them! They're pros at juggling the time shared with you and having a fixed schedule just won't cut it! Oh, you want to date them in their adult forms? Of course, they would allow it! Even if it's doubtful that they're going to be loyal to your expectations. All they know their whole life–expectations are there to be crushed down, like breaking rules. Isn't life just fun that way? They live for your vulnerable and joyful expressions.

Despite both of them having you for their amusement, they're still attached to you—to how you see them as. It doesn't help when they are good friends with Boris and work under the Mafia family, making a possessive-sadistic-obsessive triple combo out of the Bloody Twins. They would cut down and fight any person interrupting even a millisecond of your time with them, with no questions nor warning that it's becoming a daily routine. But, your eyes are always going to be protected from the sight by one of them. You won't have to see the process, you can appreciate the pile of cut-up bodies' handiwork they'll show later~ any of your positive reactions or criticism are valued!

Don't die out on them any soon for they'll always protect you just fine!

Rival: Elliot

𝘑𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘶𝘴 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘳e𝘺

Doesn't give a damn about your efforts in getting close to him. A warning a few times, and two important rules to not bother him too much and mess with the things he have is all you need to keep in mind. At that, you're pretty much free to do anything; talk about your day, complain about your day, watch him work, help him, or just keep him company—as long as you don't mind Julius not being that responsive or talkative.

(Does pay attention and would give you his undivided interest if you sound like you really need it). You've made quite a remarkable impression in his life. It dawns on him suddenly when all the indications of your presence he hears, feels, and sees, isn't there that one time you're out. It feels weird and even more so when you live in the Clocktower, as it's just normal for you to be there. Why would you even need to go out and leave him wondering about the distress he feels anyway...? You're the one who causes it in the first place. Once he knows the severity of his feelings, Julius might have to prevent you from going anywhere near him or his room for the time being with the help of Ace. Which he'll be very glad to do so since dear Julius won't come to terms with his feelings, Ace will have you alone to himself anyway! Isn't that a great idea? You and Ace together while Julius is left alone undisturbed... it's a win-win for all!

In the end, Julius keeps you back with him right after Ace taunts him and threatens to slice your head off (being the villain he is). There's no choice, now Julius knows there's another thing he can't count on the untrustworthy knight anymore. Behind your back, a silent agreement is rolling out since from there on, you somehow always got tangled in between things where Julius has to act the brave knight in shining armour only to let Ace off the hook yet again with a few scolding. The clockmaker—while you're sure is harmless and won't actually hurt you beyond that cold exterior, you don't know how he's obsessively manipulating you to take the initiative and confess first so he can confirms on how far are you willing to go for him ...you'll truly regret doing that won't you, now?

He knows he's not the best choice for you, that's why Julius is lenient and respect your boundaries. (Silently thinking it would be very irresponsible if you just outright leave and let Julius clean up after his your own mess when you're already staying this long). Either way, whether you choose to go or stay, it would be his responsibility to bear so you can proceed for your choice without regrets. Just don't look back for him if you leave, please. He won't be able to bear the sight.

Rival: ...none.

[verlaineszz]

✮⋆˙ THE ONLY EXCEPTION.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ LIFE EMBODIMENT! Dazai!

X DEATH EMBODIMENT! Chuuya!

⁺‧₊˚ ཐིཋྀ ˚— SUMMARY: Everything was the same for the two bodies, one had a curse of living and the other had the curse of death.

Every reincarnation of chuuya was him losing his loved ones then hisself, and on dazais side of the story, he does not reincarnate. He rots in the boundaries of living trying to fill the gaping hole in his chest but everytime he gets close to another human being, they face misfortune that does not include death.

It is bad both ways. The people around dazai gets corrupted by the living and chuuyas dies on his hands.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ — ANGST + FLUFF (?) + ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

A/N: can you guys tell i dont know how to get more color fonts in tumblr? I genuinely don't know how people get grey or pastel colored texts..(－‸ ლ) also the title is from the song, "the only exception" by paramore! Anyways, enjoy the soukoku — <3

Extra note! : i decided not to write what i usually write, gothic romance.. But you never know🙏

(i also just broke my leg and English isn't my first language so please excuse my grammer..)

also NOT!! PROOFREAD.

—˚₊‧⁺⋆ WARNINGS! : Blood, Death, Swearing, Alcohol

Most people that lives in the world believes that reincarnations did not exist, but chuuya did. He believed it since he has experienced it himself, in every universe he was always reincarnating as his self but in different universes with different outcomes. And every outcome was never good, he always had to lose somebody or himself, in every universe he loses somebody, it was either the flags, the sheep, dazai or more..in every universe someone is always dying. And that someone is someone he cares about.

Reincarnation after reincarnation, his memory was still there.. The memory of his past lives, he lost hope that he truly did not wanted to get close with anyone again. Everytime chuuya died, He wished that he would finally reincarnate in a universe that he belonged in.

Every waking day of his life felt like dread but he tries to make the best out of it, his personality never changes. He was still the sarcastic guy he is, but just more distant..

Another stake to his heart and caskets were served once again, this was the end of chuuyas other life. And he will reincarnate into another one once again, it was a never ending agonizing cycle.

As he reincarnates all over again, same story same everything. He escapes the lab through his brother verlaine, joins the sheep then join the port mafia. Chuuya avoided mostly everyone though, not getting too close with anyone as always. But as he met dazais snarky face again, he felt the same as others. Someway somehow he knew that dazai would die due to him but he ignored it.

"Ugh. Do i really have to work with this kid?" Dazai says while rolling his eyes

"who the hell are ya callin' a kid?"

✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮

Mission after mission, dazai and chuuya spend their time together, dazai wanted to learn more about chuuya, in his eyes, chuuya was more human than he could ever be. He was drawn to his aura and how perceptive chuuya was. (due to how many times he has reincarnated.)

Chuuya was drawn to dazai as well since he seemed like he had no affect on chuuyas 2nd ability, which was being the embodiment of death. Dazai was alive and all teasing as always that chuuya missed the feeling of spending time with someone.. Even though it was dazai, the person that made his head hot, he found comfort in the way dazai was.

Years passes by, they both found comfort in eachother, within each banter was a hint of care, and dazai found something to live for.. For atleast a certain period of time. And it was chuuya, chuuya was unreadable to him, chuuya was like an anomaly, something extraterrestrial. Which made dazai want chuuya more, he wanted to live for chuuya and for chuuya specifically.

The two of them just had a connection in this universe thay chuuya couldn't decipher, why? Dazai was the only person that believed that he was human, that mattered to him alot.

The both of them currently just finished a mission and they both just sit down on a field of grass, talking and just bullying each other as always.

"Don't talk crap about my height when im still growin' jackass." chuuya snarked back at dazais comments about his height.

"And when will that magically happen?" dazai chuckled, chuuya glares at him and sighs and mutters out — "soon. I swear."

Dazai smirks and moves closer to chuuya, his face close chuuyas, chuuya just glares at him with a faint pink tint on the ends of his ears.

"you know, you're very hot headed and weird."

"what the hell does that mean?!" chuuya asks in an offended way.

"But that's what makes me love you." dazai smiles softly at chuuya before pulling away.

Chuuya looks at him with a raised brow and replies back, "ew, that's gross man!"

Dazai laughs back at his reaction. The reaction that he seemed to feel weird towards to. The feeling that bubbles up in his stomach that he found uncomfortable but exciting, chuuya had always standed out of the rest that dazai knew that he was— The only exception.

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

Chuuya and dazai balanced out eachother perfectly, they matched eachothers personality in an unexpected way. And thats why they're always hanging out after missions.

Chuuya bought some ice cream for the both of them, they played some arcade games and then went on a walk in the forests of yokohama.

Dazai stared at chuuya the whole time as they ate their ice cream. Dazai had the same feeling again, something bubbling up in his stomach. He wasn't sure of the feeling since he has never quite experienced it before but as he thinks about the last "dates" him and chuuya have been going on, it hit him. He has a fucking crush on the chuuya nakahara..but it wasn't a biggie for him, he did confess that he loved him from the start.. But he wanted him madly. A graze of chuuyas hand already sent him to the moon...

Chuuya looks at dazai and catches him staring, dazai locks eyes with him and smiles warmly while eating the ice cream. Chuuya felt warm.. Like it was the first time he has ever experienced life, dazai had no effects of chuuya and neither did chuuya to dazais.

The more and more time passes by, the more desperate they got. Chuuya felt more attracted to dazais demeanor and dazai felt more attracted to chuuyas mannerism.

There was just something that made dazai lose his breath from chuuya, to his way of combat and to the way he even replies back to banter, dazai felt more intrigued.. From the way chuuya patches dazai up with soft and gentle touches and the eye contact they always gave each other.. Drove dazai insane.

Everything felt out of hand for the both of them, dazai was smitten and chuuya was embarrassed, they both swore it was just a crush and they were both indenial about it.

Chuuya has lived through many universes but in this one.. In this one he felt something. No body was dying when dazai was around, and chuuya wanted to keep it that way.

In dazais case, he felt like something was wromg with him, like he was just alone with nobody understanding him like the way he understood people. He saw death as just an extension of life and that's why he wanted to die so badly, because he could not just die through natural causes, but as many times he tried to die, he couldn't.

One day, chuuya wanted to reject the feeling that was lingering in him, the feeling of wanting dazai. And that was the worse decision of his life. He decided to distance hisself away from dazai that dazai got curious.. "did i do something to piss him off? Why is he just randomly ignoring me?.." dazai thought.

As time distanced the two, everything went back to normal, chuuya wanted to protect dazai by just distancing himself from him, chuuya knew that his deathly quirk wouldn't hurt dazai but he was still wary. The both of them slowly lost connections that led to dazai leaving the port mafia and bombing chuuyas car— "god damnit. Ugh.. great."

As the two distance theirselves, chuuya tries to take another shot in getting close to people even though he knew the consequences but still.. Cadavers scattered his soul.

Distance took a toll on dazai, he felt connected to chuuya like he was his soulmate, they were one soul in 2 different bodies, that which made the both of them somewhat connected.

Years and years passes by and melancholy filled the hearts of both of the 2 men, dazai had already tried to commit suicide numerous times.. And time after time.. It finally worked.

His body was found floating unconscious in a deep lake, bricks and his wallet was found in his coats pocket. The police investigates the scene and this eventually reaches chuuya, his heart stopped at the news, dazai was the only person he cared about during the time.

His eyes were wide as he gets the news from a phone call through his akutagawa and he clenches his fist, "i.. I understand.. Yes."

"a picture of you was found in his wallet.." akutagawa mentions before chuuya hangs up. he felt numb. he wanted to scream since thats how he expresses pain but he couldn't. He already knew the feeling of losing who he cares about, why does he feel so Different?

He covers his mouth and a cold sweat dripped down his back, he felt regret. He should've never distanced hisself fron dazai, he wished he could've atleast confessed his feelings. The only person who stayed alive with him that he cared about died because he thought distancing hisself would do any good.

He would never forgive himself, but in every universe, he forgave dazai.. Since he was the only exception.

BONUS! :: a bouquet was in chuuyas arms as he walks aroumd the graveyard, visiting the grave of an old friend. Dazai osamus. He leans down and offers the bouquet of flowers, sitting down with his hand in his coats pocket, he stares at dazais name and he smiles softly and chuckles, "you know.. I take back what i said.. I didn't mean it. I swear. I love you too, samu."

He says as he takes out a pistol out of the pocket of his coat, "i hope i meet ya again, i swear i'll treasure you more." he says as he points the pistol to his head and pulling the trigger.

© All works by @Verlaineszz. Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.

||TAGS:

[geometricalien]

Between Akashi & Furihata, if one of them died, who do you think is more likely to heal from the pain of loss sooner & moves on with his life?

When has Akashi Seijuurou gotten over anything in his fucking life? This rhetorical jest is an oversimplification of one of Akashi's character flaws which is his need for control. This is all to say, simply based on that, Furihata is the more emotionally intelligent of the two, the one more open and accepting to change. I think they both would require years to fully heal but I think Furihata would be the one to move on sooner.

I've tried to keep it short and direct above for those without brainrot but I AM going to go apeshit below the cut

Oh my god oh my god oh my GOD I'm so glad someone wants to hear me talk about THIS, THIS EXACT CONCEPT- ACCEPTING THE LOVE OF THEIR LIVES DEATH FASCINATES ME ENDLESSLY FUCK

Okay for reference there has been 2 fanfics involving this concept that I read when I first got into akafuri and they have HEAVILY influenced my perception of this question:

- The Truth About Reality; which is literally about Furihata not accepting Akashi's death and through mysticism goes to 4/5 different parallel realities to get him back. It's a favorite of mine and I read it once a year. It has themes of sacrifice and second chances which make it so crucial to the thematic elements of akafuri. Read it please

- Through the Air by Maiokoe; I love the first chapter, literally Kuroko Kagami Takao and Midorima come to Akashi while he is at work and inform him that Furihata's flight just crashed. It is so so so good. The way it plays out, Akashi's mounting fear, his resistance, the way his fear turns to anger then to despair- sometimes I cry when I reread it. And the last lines of the chapter---

What was a world without his lover? What was this life without his easy nature and smiles? What was this life without his affection? What was this world without Furihata Kouki? What did this world mean to him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What was Akashi Seijuuro without him? He didn’t want to find out.

Those lines have colored my opinion of what Akashi would be like if his husband died so fucking much that it really was eventual that I started my Greek fic where Akashi is Achilles and Furihata is Patroclus. So if you know the Iliad then you know how my fic will play out and exactly where I take a stance on Akashi’s terrible all consuming love.

To talk about the dissolution of happily in love akafuri by the cruel hands of death is to examine how their relationship evolved them and what being torn from their other half would do to them. To be haunted by their after image, to look at their favorite mug, to wear their favorite sweater- who would wear grief better. Who would welcome it, accept its presence. Who would repress it.

Please do not mistake what I'm saying to mean Furihata would move on quickly. Where Furihata is Akashi's light, Akashi is his gravity. He would be adrift and untethered without Akashi. The world would turn upside down. He would feel the expanse of their house, the emptiness of their bed. Furihata would be lost. It would take years to come down back to earth by himself.

Furihata would eventually move out of that house/apartment too full of memories, at the prodding of well meaning friends he would download dating apps, eventually he would go on dates and try his best to not compare them to his late husband because how could a man compare to a god. And then years and years down the line, when his heart only half aches when he sees a hair of red, when he only wears that old ratty sweater on the occasion bad day, he can look up into the sky and smile, thankful for the memories. I think he could even fall in love again, begin a new chapter.

A large chunk of Furihata is lost the day Akashi dies but he grows around the pain and walks on. Accepting the scars, accepting the love and pain, accepting it all.

As I said though, Furihata is Akashi's light. His metric on good and bad. The saving grace that redeemed him and inspired him to become worthy of such love.

Imagine if the sun was stolen from the sky and we were pitched into utter darkness. Until our eyes adjust and we can make out some shapes, you are surrounded in black black. Complete emptiness. Alone more than ever before and for a moment you think it will consume you. That is how Akashi feels for the first year until his eyes adjust to the darkness. He would continue in this shadow life indefinitely, watching everyone else patch themselves together and move on, while he.is.stuck. And he won't admit it and only those brave enough would say it to his face, but he is absolutely wallowing, sulking, in this darkness as self-punishment. that in some twisted sense, this is what he deserves. he digs his feet in, refusing to move. And if out of the corner of his eye a flicker of light dances, he would refuse to follow it. The dark is where he belongs.

He would bury himself in work. He would refuse to move out of their house. Refusing to touch any of the things that Kouki last left them, his toothbrush bone dry in the holder, the book he was reading on his bedside table.

And when his friends compare him to his father- he becomes furious, alight with indignation. He is not cold and cruel like his father had been. "No... you're empty."

It would take him so so long to accept that Furihata would want him to be happy even if its not with him. That he deserves to be happy. Only then would he take tiny half steps out of the cave he buried himself in, the cave that he would have made his grave.

As a side note, I mentioned Furihata falling in love with someone else afterwards... my personal interpretation is that Akashi could not. He would try if only just because he knows Furihata wants him to be happy and knew that Akashi is the most happy when he is in love- but The Akashi heart is a fearsome terrible all consuming thing.

Akashi Seijuurou, is a man who celebrated the anniversary of each milestone of their relationship. Akashi Seijuurou, is a man who is head over heels in love and worships the ground his beloved walks on. Akashi Seijuurou, is a man who calls their partner love- because they are the manifestation of their love. Akashi Seijuurou, is a man who would go to the far corners of the world to see if there was some way to still communicate with their partner if said partner was turned into a worm and would build a terrarium of utmost luxury for said partner and talk to the worm as if it was them, take the worm to see the sun meet the ocean, because they have to hope that their partner still has some consciousness. And if not, then he needs to do that for himself. To fool himself. And once that worm passes, he would be extra compassionate to earthworms because they remind him of them.

The Akashi heart is a blessing to the receiver for there is nothing stronger or purer. The Akashi heart is a curse to the creator if only because they have that one single heart and they are physically unable to take it back.

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

uhhh anything on nate? (<- question being asked by the nate guy)

HII MEL THANK U FOR THE ASK. Sorry for this being really disjointed.

Nate. My friend Nate Torta. And Bianca Farren’s little buddy and also Meloetta’s bff. has a twitch channel where he probably does SM64 speed runs. Imagine him doing this (flashing lights and loud warning). That’s Nate.

Both he and Rosa represents both humanity’s blindness to past events and how bias affects our perception of the world, as well as how meeting people can change our biases. As well as humanity’s will to overcome, both in different ways. (the aspertia trio and the bw rival’s arc center around manifesting Hilbert’s will and wish for both his childhood friends to live normally again and the betterment of the world. Guys who exist in the story through others)

It’s hard to describe his role in the story but like. He’s the child of team plasma members and is fully in denial about them being as bad as they are. He was present for the final confrontation between the battle subway and team plasma but got away and goes out of his way to justify team plasma’s actions some times. Partially to justify his parents to himself so he doesn’t doubt they were right (even if he starts to falter)

But Bianca has him change his way of thinking by making him realize even spreading misinformation and lying to both yourself and others can cause more harm than good even if it’s in the pursuit of your ideals. (Essentially Nate is “don’t trade the truth in favor of your ideals.” Rosa is “don’t trade your ideals in favor of your truth.”)

He has a deep friendship with meloetta who he found washed up on a beach. And his journey with it to help it recover its memories and sing the relic song once again

[oliviaodonnell]

Holistic Analysis of Amélie

Olivia O’Donnell 

CMS 294

Prof. C. Vukasovich

May 10, 2024

Synopsis

To complete this holistic analysis I would like to summarize Amélie on a basic level. Amélie by director Jean-Pierre Jeunet is a whimsical romantic comedy following the life of a young woman named Amélie. She grew up in solitude surrounded by loss with the need for triumph. This made her a very introverted individual, but she was raised with the desire for happiness and the need to spread goodness to those around her, to do this she would silently do good acts for others. 

Good Deeds

The first act we see is of Amélie finding a box in her small apartment that once belonged to a young boy who lived in her apartment decades prior. She sets on a mission to return this box to its rightful owner, she asks her neighbors and eventually finds this now grown man and anonymously returns it to him, with no need for recognition of her act of kindness. 

She brings joy to a blind man's life when walking him to the train station, she describes all the little things that he would never be able to see himself, the windows they pass, the actions of the strangers on a busy street, and the drama ensuing around them on their very quick journey.

The final act I want to touch on is the act of kindness she does for her love interest. He is a collector of photobooth images and the photobooth he gets his images from was broken. She made the effort to get it fixed and that is what unites them and this makes her love for him a reality.

These acts mentioned are only the most notable ones to me, however, there are much smaller deeds that she completes for others to bring strangers joy. I believe that this is due to cognitive theory, that my perception of the world affects what I find memorable in a film. I am a young woman perceiving this film. I will undoubtedly relate to some of the messages being delivered because I have something in common with the film's subject. I will link my memories and experiences that relate. I will find salience in the film as well as many others, the supporting characters are all individualized to be recognizable. The creators of this film build stereotypical characters that people can identify with. Amélie’s outspoken coworker and her creepy love interest, the loud-mouthed and introverted street vendors who treat Amélie with kindness and care, the helpless blind man on the street, and so on. All characters with quirks that a person may associate with themselves or someone in their lives. 

Message

This film has an overarching message. Amélie is an empathetic introvert who strives to bring joy to those she meets, she can feel their energy and can determine what they need to experience happiness. Due to her losing her mother so young and being emotionally neglected by her father, she craves to bestow happiness on others. Her behaviors remind me as a viewer that actions always speak louder than words. She has few moments of consistent dialogue, she does so much more intentional listening than she does speaking– an observer of things can be sure to take action seriously, and she does. She spends her whole life trying to bring joy to others waiting for her opportunity to receive it herself. After her good deed to her love interest, she is controlled by his reciprocated interest in her. When the photobooth is fixed for him he finds himself at her apartment where she invites him in and kisses him on his face, but not his lips. She waits for him to take that action, so she can be shown that he is feeling the same romantic interest in her. 

If there is one thing about this film I picked up on it is how many ways something can be presented. If the director wants the audience to know something they will be shown it visually in the acting, in the composition of the frames, verbally from the actor, or audibly from the music overlaid, the sound effects, or simply in the expressions, and even directly said in the narration. The style of this film was not ominous, viewers were walked through the story without room for misinterpretation.  

Color 

In Amélie, there were recurring colors and hues. Throughout the fil, the hue was strictly green and yellow. This was very intentional, yellow generally symbolizes hope, joy, and possibility, and green is grounding and childlike bringing in an element of nostalgia. Another recurring color was red, it surrounded Amélie constantly; her apartment walls, the clothes she wears, on the street when she's walking, in the cafe she works in. Red frequently represents passion and warmth which align with the tone of Amélie.  The film was shot in a low contrast highlighting the depth in the colors used, it brings out the vibrancy.

Sound 

Instrumentals, silence, and dialogue led this film. One moment that stood out in particular was when Amélie returned the trinket box to the grown man, when he realized that he was reunited with his belongings the audience was faced with emotional string instrumentals that brought a hopeful and nostalgic energy to the scene.

Shots 

The director has an interest in tension within scenes. I don’t think I could count the number of zoom shots within this film, each time it was used the actors were expressing an intense emotion of surprise, fear, excitement, or confusion. The quick or suspenseful nature of the zoom was appropriately chosen for the emotion being expressed. I paid close attention to the composition of the scenes, when characters were interacting with each other the angles would reflect their heights, for example when Amélie was taking an order you’d see her view looking down at the customer and vice versa. It helped the viewer become immersed in the film. In my research, I learned they used several cameras and several lenses to create their desired dramatized style, specifically the ARRIFLEX 435 ES Camera, ARRIFLEX 535 Camera, Iwerks Cameras, and Zeiss Ultra Prime Lenses in 14, 18, 21, 25, and 27mm. (Evan E. Richards, 2011).

Zoom Shot (9:52)

Medium

Amélie’s passion and energy were shown with a multimedia approach of CGI. When there was a need for emphasis the scene would be edited in an illuminated presentation of the main focus, may that be a set of keys, her thumping heart, or her melting with passion and anxiety. 

Thumping Heart

Melting with feelings (1:38:58)

A second way they incorporated CGI was with talking portraits. The paintings on her walls speak to her in her moments of loneliness and the photo booth images speak to her when she needs a friend. 

Talking portraits (58:04) and interactive photo booth pictures (1:12:33)

Cuts and Transitions and Movement 

Cuts and transitions were embraced in this film. The most notable and entertaining use of a transition was towards the beginning of the film, Amélie was being disturbed by customers having sex in her Cafe restroom and then a sequence of orgasms was included from men and women from both adults and elders, they when from orgasm to moan with no time in between to process, it elevated the intensity of Amélie’s feelings towards the sex being had in her presence. She and the audience feel the confusion and surprise. The movement of those clips was quick, intentionally to not distract from the scene at hand, but to give context to the sound. Movement was consistently quick in this film, the anxiety was shown well with the incorporation of movement. Many of the scenes in the train station were fast-moving. One moment of Amélie sitting alone on the train was shown with a violent movement, showing her physical self being jumbled around in the train seat, but also her mind jumbling around focusing on her thoughts and her surroundings.

Amélie on a shaky train with jumbling thoughts (26:35 and 27:24)

References

Amélie. (2024, April 9). ShotOnWhat? Retrieved May 10, 2024, from https://shotonwhat.com/amelie-2001

Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Director). (2001). Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain [Amélie] [Film]. Claudie Ossard Productions.

Lester, P. M. (2013). Visual Communication: Images with Messages. Cengage Learning.

Richards, E. E. (2011). Deconstructing Amelie – Evan E. Richards. Evan E. Richards. Retrieved May 10, 2024, from https://www.evanerichards.com/2011/2120

[dailyjuliusblog]

THE TASTE OF THE FORBIDDEN KISS BEYOND MIDNIGHT

Ryzen woke up on the morning of his 21st birthday with a sense of excitement and nervous feeling. As a gay man, he had been concealing a secret crush on Smith, a charming and kind-hearted classmate. Although Ryzen had never confessed his feelings, he often found comfort in daydreaming about what it would be like to be in Smith's arms.

The day was filled with festivities and laughter as Ryzen's friends, Danielle, Nathan, and Chelsea, gathered to celebrate his debut party. The evening was an enchanting affair, with twinkling lights, soft music, and an atmosphere of joy. The venue was a grand ballroom, ornamented with elegant decorations and a dance floor awaiting the celebrations.

As the night deepens, Ryzen's heart fluttered with excitement when he noticed Smith entering the venue. He had not expected Smith to attend, and his presence brought a mix of thrill and nervousness. Danielle, ever perceptive, noticed Ryzen's reaction and slyly nudged him.

"Danielle, why did you invite Smith? You know how I feel about him," Ryzen whispered, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

"Because sometimes dreams do come true, Ryzen," Danielle whispered back, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

The night continued, and Ryzen found himself engaged in conversations with his friends, all the while stealing glances at Smith, who seemed to be enjoying the party. The music swelled, and couples took to the dance floor, swaying to the romantic melodies.

Ryzen's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Smith across the room. Summoning all his courage, he approached Smith, extending his hand for a dance.

"Would you honor me with a dance?" Ryzen asked, his voice tinged with nervous eagerness.

Smith's eyes lit up with surprise and delight as he took Ryzen's hand. "I would be delighted," he replied, his voice soft and sincere.

As they moved gracefully across the dance floor, the world around them seemed to fade away. Ryzen's pulse quickened with each gentle touch and every glance exchanged. The connection between them felt intense, as if they were the only two people in the room.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and shared interests. The hours slipped away, and the bond between Ryzen and Smith deepened. Ryzen's friends watched on, their smiles a testament to the promising connection.

At midnight, as the clock struck, Ryzen and Smith found themselves on a quiet balcony overlooking the starlit night. The air was filled with a sense of magic and possibility.

"I've been holding onto a secret for far too long," Ryzen confessed, his voice quivering with vulnerability. "I've admired you from afar, Smith. You've always been the light in my life."

Smith's eyes widened with surprise and curiosity. "Ryzen, I had no idea. I, too, have felt a connection between us, a pull that I couldn't explain."

In that moment, their gazes locked, and Ryzen's heart swelled with hope. He leaned in, closing the gap between them, and Smith shared the gesture. Their lips met in a tender kiss, sealing their unspoken feelings in a moment of pure affection.

The world seemed to stand still as Ryzen and Smith embraced, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. It felt as if all the stars in the sky had aligned, granting them a glimpse of the love they had longed for.

But as quickly as the dream had blossomed, it began to fade. Ryzen's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself lying in his bed, his heart still racing, a mixture of joy and yearning lingering in his chest. It had all been a dream……. a beautiful, bittersweet dream.

His Mom started knocking the door and its time for him to eat his breakfast because he’s run out of time going to school.

As Ryzen rose from his bed, he couldn't help but carry the memory of that dream with him. The taste of the forbidden kiss, the warmth of Smith's embrace, and the depth of their connection stayed etched in his mind. It fueled his hope for the future, reminding him that sometimes dreams are the catalysts for reality.

With newfound determination, Ryzen decided it was time to gather the courage to share his true feelings with Smith. He couldn't let the dream be the only place where their hearts entwined. And who knows, perhaps reality would prove to be even more enchanting than any dream could ever be.

As Ryzen set forth into the awakening world, he carried the lingering emotions of his dream, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Love, he realized, was not confined to dreams alone as it was a powerful force that could shape reality and bring the unexpected to life. And with that thought, Ryzen set out to turn his dream into an enchanting reality, ready to seize the possibility of a shared love story with Smith.

[oddberryshortcake]

Kalim’s lack of self-preservation and his over-abundance of care towards others

Something I noticed and was always interested in when it came to Kalim is the sort of underlying context to just how nice he is, and his perceptions of himself vs others. 

Usually when it comes to characters who have a vast amount of wealth and the ability to have whatever they want, you’d think of characters who are entirely self-obsessed and believe the world revolves around them, but that isn’t the case with Kalim. 

Yes, he is out of touch and does things without thinking, but it’s not because he values himself over others, it’s more of him not understanding how other people think but still trying to make them happy somehow. 

Kalim’s VA explained it very well and has a good grasp on his character, and I think his take is quintessential- 

“His desires have always been granted, so he doesn’t need to think that much. He doesn’t have that much longing for his desires, right? That’s why he makes people around him happy. Seeing that instead makes him happy. He doesn’t think too much (for himself) because he’s enjoying seeing other people happy.” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwHMphJkLr8&t=68s)

Kalim has rarely felt unhappy, his needs were always met by his loving family and he was very protected. He had his share of terrifying experiences with attempted poisonings and kidnappings, but those were not things that shook him. They are bad experiences, but ones that Kalim can talk about in passing without feeling too unhappy. He generally regards himself as very hard to scare/upset despite going through all of that.

It’s not his own safety or life that he cares too strongly about. Either be believes nothing bad could happen because he’s survived so much and has been kept protected from harm well (like how him almost falling to his death in his dorm uniform SSR vignette wasn’t too much of a big deal, Jamil saved him as he always manages to)

Much like his interest in making other people happy and seeing them happy, his concern that very well could be used for himself is projected onto other people- Primarily Jamil. 

In his dorm uniform SSR vignette he reveals that Jamil almost died eating something poisoned that was meant to kill him, the way Kalim recites that story is so drastically different in tone from his other stories, that event undeniably shook him to the point where he can’t eat curry and bans it from his own household. 

It’s unfair of him to do that, but it shows how he can move on from his own poisoning with hardiness but it’s Jamil’s poisoning that brings back traumatic memories. It’s so much different to see it happen to someone else, especially when it was meant for you. 

I’m sure the people in his household were more relieved that Kalim wasn’t poisoned, they probably told him it was a good thing that Jamil ate the curry and not him. 

Despite likely being surrounded with assertions that his life is more important than Jamil’s, it clearly didn’t do anything to make him believe so, because he doesn’t think about himself or view himself like that in the slightest. 

His unyielding empathy and compassion for others, the source of what makes him happy more so than being happy himself, is also what caused him to be so much more affected by what happened to Jamil than what happens to himself. 

This plays directly into how Kalim doesn’t care much for his own safety but  cares a lot more for others, with Jamil also being the main subject of this concern in a lot of instances (I’d say MC also is included in this, but Jamil tends to be the center in a lot of vignettes and story in a lot more examples)

It’s interesting how Kalim will generally partake in dangerous things, but the moment he thinks Jamil could be in danger he changes his approach and becomes more aware like in Jamil’s ceremonial robe vignette.

He even becomes more firm and stern when it comes to getting Jamil to do as he says. He rarely ever asserts his authority over Jamil in this way unless it’s in regards to his safety, and to other people as well like in chapter 6 when he snaps at Jade for implying that Jamil and others might be dead after their kidnapping. 

I do actually love how Kalim doesn’t use his wealth, power, and authority over people for his own selfish gain, but rather to (try to) lift people up, protect others and to put a stop to something that could be dangerous and bad. 

He really gains nothing for himself, he doesn’t want that, what he wants is for people to be safe and happy, and I adore that about him. He doesn’t always go about it the right way but it’s so genuine. 

Does this also mean there’s something even deeper behind not thinking about himself past his needs always being met? Maybe, especially for angst reasons. Because especially after chapter 4, it feels awful to be told you’re at fault for someone’s misery, even if that isn’t entirely true. That hurts so bad. Because knowing Kalim he’s absolutely more upset his friend is miserable more than his friend betraying him and his trust.

[chantsdemarins]

❄️Frost Secrets from the Other Son

Chapter 7 The Lapis Cave (all parts!)

Links fixed!

@kaogasm @britishserpent @lokisgoodgirl @immersed-in-mischief

@huntress-artemiss @mischief2sarawr @lokisninerealms

Chapter Summary: Loki and Lillian grow closer as they sort through hidden Aesir and Jötunn history, to save the life of their unborn son.

Smut Rating: 8 (for the cave, okay, wow. 🥵)

The Lapis Cave

Loki’s entire life was in question. Even though he had returned from the edge of ending his known life, he did not yet understand how to live the unknown life that lay before him. Since he could remember, he had always been bawdy, crass, and delighting in the ways he could be a nuisance or challenge the status quo around him. Habits were deeply cut rivers in his life, reactions, and ways of being that protected him. Snake metaphors often filled Loki’s mind.

He had always felt a kinship to the creature that lived both on Midgard and Asgard. The mother serpent ruled the cosmos between the realms, and he felt humbled by its innate power. The snake was one of the only creatures he would ever think to kneel to. Many characteristics from his affinity with snakes formed his presence in his family and amongst his friends. The mottos, strike first before being attacked, and be predictively unpredictable, were the serpent-like qualities that people could comfortably describe Loki with.

For example, he loved to cut off Thor’s naïve perception of the world with a snarky comment. He loved that he felt wiser at times than Odin and never held back quoting famous kings and Asgardian philosophers, especially when Odin was lacking in words himself. Although this only brought negative attention to the young prince and his keen mind.

He relished being more adept in battle than Volstagg. He bested Fandral in nearly every blade match, often leaving his friend injured. Pride was deep and covered his insecurities like the snow from his actual home realm. He never knew where this guarded condition sprang from until now.

He figured he was just what people would label him, and he, in turn, labeled himself in kind. In this way, it was the snake eating its tail. He didn’t intend to become the valiant prince or perhaps even a righteous king now that his life had changed dramatically. Still, he felt he couldn’t be the man he was when he was the charmingly cutting and the distinctively bitter dark prince. Loki also had to consider the consequences of his past relationships and how these fragments of memory were still holding court in his mind.

The truth was he had many lovers in his lifetime, and while sometimes tiresome in their novelty, he relished the attention they gave him. It was some of the only genuine affection he received. He was graced with a certain level of attractiveness that both sexes enjoyed. He was not befitted with his brother’s brawn, but his tall, lean body was muscular. He animated his movements with his deep knowledge of every part of his physical being. No one ever complained about his ample cock or his lovemaking. Loki knew that his attentiveness kept his lovers coming back. This quality about him had its appeal.

Although it seemed that with each lover Loki had, each only saw one part of him. Putting all the pieces together was overwhelming to them. Most didn’t get past his temper or his manipulation. He had drawers full of letters from women and men, trying to “change him.” He knew some of his lovers liked his cock, yet others liked his royal status, and still, others enjoyed his wit, but never all at once. None had wanted to be with all of him. Not until Lillian.

Although Loki wondered about the alchemy of this entire situation. Lillian perhaps would have ended up in the latter category of his other lovers, too, had she not fallen pregnant. This left Loki feeling confused about his ability to trust fully that his life was indeed changing.

Yet there was a new light emerging in his aura. He just couldn’t fully claim it just yet. He had made a decent show of his tenderness, even suggesting to Lillian that they marry. But in his quieter moments, he wondered if that would even be possible. Loki had not discussed anything with his family since the day everything unraveled.

He had simply taken Lillian to his quarters and asked his most trusted aid, Nigel, to send missives back and forth to everyone. He had needed to tend to this emerging light within him. Every day they were hauled up in his room, it changed and grew stronger. Every conversation with her led him down a different path to knowing himself.

By becoming pregnant with his child, this child inheriting his true origin, Lillian now knew him with a totality that was hard to understand, let alone genuinely tell anyone else about. He needed this time to process who he was and begin to take steps into a possible future. He imagined that his son was somehow teaching Lillian about parts of himself he had yet to know through these unconscious and somewhat conscious changes occurring in her body and mind. This completely overwhelmed and yet fascinated him. His bond with Lillian was the unknown.

ooOoo

“How long will we stay locked away like his Loki?” Lillian finally spoke up one sleepy morning as they both lay naked, skin prickly from the breeze rolling in through the open window.

Loki took his large hands and let them roam her body before answering. He could think better when he let his body act first.

“Hmm,” she teased by rolling over to her side and lifting herself up on her elbow.

Lillian knew by now that if she pushed Loki too hard, he would respond unfavorably.

So, she gently waited and enjoyed his fingers finding her body. His hands cupped her fuller breasts, and instead of answering her, he placed his mouth on her nipple, sucking intently. He then let his hands wander to her sex, guiding his thumb over her clit in tormenting circles. His blue eyes flashed, full of distraction. He was clearly avoiding everything outside of the four walls currently housing them.

She was just glad his room had a bathroom...

Lillian closed her eyes and could feel her body responding to his touch, even if what they needed to be having was a real conversation. It had been a week. She rallied her strength of mind against the thought of Loki quickly pulling her on top of him, sliding into her heat with obnoxious ease. So, she sat up, taking every ounce of self-control she had.

“Loki,” Lillian said as she took some fruit off the side table and fed him something she thought looked like a strawberry.

“Talk to me.”

“How can I talk to you when you are naked, and now, you’re feeding me like I’m a baby bird.”

“I’m at your mercy. Do with me what you will, my pet,” Loki’s smolder flashed.

She focused.

“I will ask again, nicely, when are we leaving Loki? We still haven’t spoken to the healers. That is first and foremost before we sort out your family,” she didn’t want to use the baby as an excuse to get him to leave his room, but it was her best shot, and she took it.

“Oh, of course, Lilly, we must see Eir and learn more about your pregnancy. I’m not hiding us away forever. You must know that.”

“How would I know?” she was now letting her doubts inch to the surface.

Loki sat up, fully along with her.

“To tell the truth, I have loved this time with you, Lilly. I can’t think of any better way to begin to understand myself. Sharing more about our child's communication with you helps me know who I am. I don’t know if you can fully grasp this...”

“Loki, we don’t even know if what I am experiencing is information about being a frost giant. We suspect I was drawn to the north because of the baby. We suspect my dreams are giving information about Jötunnheim, but how do we know unless we talk to someone else and find someone civil enough to speak to us about this? We can even talk to your family, Laufey maybe….”

Loki sucked in the room’s air sharply. With that statement, he cut off Lillian. The blade of his tongue lashing at her. The mood in the room swiftly became just what Lillian was dreading.

“I will forget you said that. You overstep.”

“I overstep?” Lilly was floored.

She continued, “Loki, you are the one who has only been talking about Jötunnheim with me this past week. Asking me so many questions about what you think our son knows through his ancestry. Why wouldn’t we go to your biological family and seek further knowledge instead of trying to interpret signals from a fetus! Lest you forget, our child will also need to survive here as a frost giant. We need answers!”

“ENOUGH!” Loki’s face was flushed, he was upset and no longer comfortable with their intimacy. He started to get dressed. Something about putting on his clothes created a barrier to any further questioning, a lame attempt to shield his heart.

Still spewing venom, he couldn’t seem to contain, he said, “Eir and the healers who let’s not forget, you have something against, are in fact very knowledgeable and will be able to guide us through the proper steps, Lillian. To speak to Laufey is to risk the whole realm's safety. I have already told you I will not risk all Asgard for one being, who we don’t even know how they got here!”

Loki had now said too much.

Lillian had tears streaming down her face. The light he practiced holding in his heart was now the size of a dimly lit candle. He didn’t mean what he said.

“Lilly, I am sorry. I know how the baby got here. I didn’t mean to say he is a mistake.”

“No, what you meant to say was that we were a mistake, Loki,” she coldly said, pointing her finger at his chest.

“Is all of this just one of your games? Do you plan on returning to your life as the forgotten prince once this kid gets here? I know you and your father-of-the-year, Odin, said you wouldn’t lock us away somewhere, but how do I even know that you are telling the truth? Isn’t it just as plausible and much easier for you, no doubt, if you just hide us?”

Lillian was sobbing. Between the hormones and the drastic shift in her life, not to mention a week in Loki’s room, her emotions were now so far afield there was no retrieving them.

Loki quickly pulled her to him without thinking, his body again acting first. Lilly did not feel like his arms were the safest place, so she struggled to free herself from him immediately.

“Let me go!” she yelled, prying his fingers off her arm.

“No way, Lilly, not until you stop crying,” the light in his heart was now about the size of an avocado.

“Hush, please, my princess.”

“Do not call me your princess. I am not your princess,” Lillian was astonished by his gall.

“You are, and I am a complete fool, can you forgive me? I have misspoken yet again.”

Lillian continued wrestling him, looking at him she said clearly and sternly, “Just so you know, I am not going to marry you.”

Loki persevered, “okay, don’t marry me, I haven’t officially asked you yet anyway, which is beside the point. In any event, I love you, Lillian.”

She stopped crying and stopped struggling. He had said it. He had gotten close but never said it, at least not without his cock buried deeply inside her.

“Loki, you are just saying this because you don’t want me to be upset. You are probably only worried about your genius progeny I’m gestating.”

“I am worried about him, but that is not why I told you I loved you just now. I do love you, Lillian. You have changed my life. You have given me a reason to be a different man. I don’t know yet who that man is, but I can feel him starting to emerge.”

“Well, this “new Loki” better hurry up, because honestly, this one seems like the same old Loki I met at the solstice ball, who knocked me up while giving me a tour of the royal library.”

With that, Lillian promptly got up and ran to the bathroom.

Her morning sickness was relentless still. Dismayed for a moment, Loki quickly conjured a fluffy pink bathrobe like he had seen on Midgard and ran after her with it between his hands. When he reached her at the toilet, he grabbed her immediately, just as he had instinctively done when she was their prisoner out in the woods, puking in front of his family and friends.

He placed his cool hands on her forehead. Although he was shocked that she didn’t feel warm. She was freezing.

“Lilly, you are frozen. Let me put this robe around you,” he said, rubbing her shoulders and lifting her into the garment. Wordlessly she let him guide her back to the bed. He placed the comforter across her body, gently running his palms across her cheeks.

She seemed happy for the moment, closing her eyes, letting him care for her.

“I wish I could somehow get sick for you,” he mused awkwardly.

“No, you don’t, Loki, trust me.”

“Or at the very least, I wish my magic would help. I hate seeing you like this.”

Lillian smiled. With her eyes still closed, she answered him, “yes, if we go to the healers, maybe we can find out why your magic has a 50% accuracy rate with me.”

Loki thought about this too.

His magic just didn’t work on her very well, and this was from the first contraception spell he cast. He could make her tea better than taking her nausea away with his seiðr.

This was just one of many questions he had. He knew they needed to leave his room and at least talk to Eir. The discussion was tabled for now concerning any contact with his Jötunn family. He just wanted to focus on ensuring Lillian and their baby were healthy. The light in his heart was now the size of a watermelon as he watched her drift off into a nap.

Loki opened his bedroom door and quietly signaled for Nigel. He placed a note in his hand, alerting Eir that they would be coming to see her and the other healers later in the day. He also sent a communique to his mother, letting her know of their plan but asking that no one from the family be around as they journeyed to the healers.

He wasn’t ready for anything more than what was on his plate currently. His new family needed him. Odin’s family could wait.

ooOoo

Part 2

“The cave of what?” Loki repeated what he thought he heard Eir say.

“The cave of Lapis. It’s a stone that is found on Earth,” Eir added more information.

“It is part of Asgard’s mineral composition as well. You need to take Lillian to the cave of Lapis. There is a special ionic quality to the water that will ease her sickness and benefit your child. He isn’t getting enough minerals from our food or water here on Asgard...”

Eir was never wrong, so Loki listened carefully. He looked at Lillian, who immediately felt she had done something wrong. She already had tremendous guilt for drinking alcohol up until she lost consciousness…

“Oh dear, lady Lillian. You haven’t done anything wrong,” Eir said intuitively.

“It’s just that you said he needs more minerals. Maybe I haven’t been eating enough? Or maybe it’s been all my vomiting. Or maybe all the sweets?”

Loki pulled his chair closer to her and wrapped his long arms around her. He nuzzled his face to her ear and whispered. “Eir isn’t saying you did anything wrong, my love. The baby just needs different things because he isn’t from here,” he said sheepishly, with his submerged guilt surfacing as well.

“We already know this, right? We’ve talked about this,” he reminded Lilly.

Eir spoke again, “go to the cave, young ones. You will understand once you get there. It was once a meeting place for Jötunn and Aesir before we were enemies. Jötunn would swim up from the bottom of the water in the cave. Aesir would meet them. The water contains enough molecules to sustain breathing in it. It nourishes the body and the mind,” Eir smiled and sat next to Lillian placing a hand on her shaking leg.

“Okay, I don’t want to hear about Aesir and Jötunn making out underwater in this cave. They are enemies to the crown now. It does not matter what once was,” Loki dismissed Eir’s story with his harsh tone.

Eir looked frustrated, “prince, that isn’t what I was describing. You might need to expand your mind some before entering. The narrowness of it as it is currently, might prohibit your ability to even enter the waters. Have faith.”

In Lillian’s mind, the story Eir told also sounded strange, but she was already accustomed to the stories of the days before the war, and whether it was her unborn son leading her to this knowledge, or just her sense as a journalist, she believed it. It seemed possible the Aesir and the Jötunn once shared information and connected. This cave was proof enough.

ooOoo

“Loki, will you keep an open heart about this?” Lillian inquired as they traveled along the worn path to the location beyond the western mountains.

“I will try.”

She noted that the cave wasn’t much to speak of when they arrived. Lillian had been to many hot springs back on Earth, and they were much more physically remarkable than the small opening surrounded by black basalt-like rock.

“It’s now, or never, I guess,” Lillian said nervously, setting down her bag outside the entrance to the cave.

“Loki, can you go first?” she glanced at him, wondering if he might make up an excuse at the last minute.

“Sure, I am a warrior who has been victorious in many battles far more taxing than this measly Jötunn bathtub!”

Lilly rolled her eyes.

“Then go in already.”

He looked once more all around just to be sure no one had followed them.

He could see his dunce of a brother deployed as a spy to track their whereabouts. Loki was not looking forward to the conversation that loomed about his paternity. It was bad enough Thor found out about the baby the way he did. Loki finally went inside.

The cave's most incredible property was the deep blue lapis lazuli walls that hugged inwards, creating a very intimate atmosphere. He hoped that the Jötunn knew the cave was closed from their side of the realm. It would suck to have a full-size frost giant pop up between his “wife” and himself while they were communing.

He hopped in the warm water quickly. It immediately felt soothing to his skin. He felt it caressing his muscles, he swore he could feel it enter his veins. Loki uttered a deep sigh and offered his long arm to Lilly to help her in after him.

Her body was changing before his eyes. Today, he swore he could see the faint outline of his child growing bigger in Lilly’s strong body. Lifting her down and into his arms, he felt rather romantic.

“Such a gentleman,” she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Now we wait.”

“Yes, now we wait for a sign,” she laughed.

Loki returned to the image of a random frost giant coming up from the depths and quickly offered to look around under the water. This gesture was also reassuring for Lillian, who again felt like this was not the kind of bohemian cave she was used to.

His perfect ass dove down about four times before he was satisfied no one else would be joining them. Lillian started to close her eyes, the heat from the water creating a soft cocoon.

She thought of all the times she had seen rune images since coming to Asgard. It was almost as if runes were coming to her now, messaging her. “Wait, wait, Loki, I think I see rune stones, but I don’t know their meaning. Should I try and explain to you?”

She had been so lost in her experience that she failed to look at Loki since he had not moved very much since his diving exhibition. When she opened her eyes, Loki was blue.

He was blue, and his eyes were like red gems.

To say Lillian was stunned would be an understatement.

Ecstatically she yelled, “Loki, Loki, look at your stomach or at your hand. You are blue!”

Loki looked down at his hands in wild disbelief.

He was completely blue.

He felt his head, he now also had a more permanent pair of horns. His body had deep-lined relief markings, like tattoos. Lilly wondered what each line meant and if her baby would also have this kind of remarkable body like Loki was displaying.

“Eir didn’t tell me that it took away my seiðr! This is a pure embarrassment!” Loki said with frustration.

“I’m hideous.”

Lilly was stunned, but she spoke, “Loki, you look magnificent. I can’t even describe what seeing you like this is doing to me.”

She felt the wetness deep within her core surfacing between her wanting legs. While Loki was shocked at his appearance and overwhelmed, Lilly needed to make him understand how beautiful he was to her at this moment.

Swimming over to him, she was suddenly much smaller than him. His navel met her mouth almost perfectly. Taking a moment to place a kiss just beneath it while looking up at him with expectant eyes, she remembered Eir said the water was breathable. Testing it out now was an as good time as any.

Dunking her head bravely beneath the surface she drew a concerned gasp from Loki and a small utterance of her name as she disappeared.

After a short adjustment, her lungs began to process the water like air. Her eyes could also clearly see everything before her. Including the massive cock of her lover now in his Jötunn form. Daunting to comprehend, Lillian knew Loki needed her assurance that his true form and the form of their child were not monstrous but beautiful.

She placed her mouth over his cock, opening herself, trying to take him all in. She was still, in fact, a tiny human. But she managed. Sucking him with a fierce passion, she took as much as possible. Wondering what he was feeling above the surface, she released his gorgeous member for a brief second, and bobbed her head up. His eyes were closed.  

“Please keep doing what you are doing,” he said simply and quietly.

His fingers found her face, and he grasped her jaw, massaging it gently.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Her lord. Lillian had never called him that before.

She was back underwater, stuffing his cock back into her mouth. Lilly could feel him beginning to shudder, imagining he could come at any time, grabbing his thighs, she doubled down her efforts. She wished she could hear him from under the water, coming in his Jötunn form might carry a significantly different acoustic.  

From up above, Loki was in tears. He cried out, coming in Lillian’s mouth, feeling what could only be considered deeply vulnerable. She had just seen him in his true form. Without hesitation, she took his cock into her mouth and let him come like an absolute maniac.

He pulled her up out of the water. Lillian couldn’t tell if his face was wet, or he had been crying.

“How do you feel, my love?” he said softly, “thank you for your effort to make me feel, well, not like a frost giant who haunts the nightmares of all Asgardian children.”

“Loki,” she began, but he cut her off. The light in his chest was now the size of a small Midgardian sedan.

“You continue to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if I am now swimming in a cave like a fool, in my Jötunn form, I wouldn’t change it for anything. You must know this.”

Lilly smiled, “can I tell you about the runes I saw before you transformed? I think they might be a code or message from Jotunnheim!”

Lilly was a little too enthusiastic for the moment for Loki’s taste. He countered, “we should get out first, please. I’ve had enough of this body for now.”

“Okay, but if you ever turn into Jötunn Loki again, I will never be sorry.” Lilly smiled seductively.

Loki shrugged his shoulders and lifted her out of the water. He then cautiously stepped out himself, watching his form shift slowly back to Aesir.

He sighed with relief.

“You wondered if you’d be stuck, huh?” Lilly surmised by his relieved expression.

“I did.”

“Hey, you are a fucking hot blue giant,” she playfully added as she stepped towards him, pulling herself up to his lips, kissing him deeply. He kissed her deeply back.

“Thank you. For everything.”

They left the cave and headed back to the palace to figure out if what Lilly saw had any meaning. She already felt better, placing her hands on her belly as they walked; she could tell her little frost giant did too.

ooOoo

On to Chapter 8

[solomonish]

selfless (to a fault?) [demon brothers]

CW: allusions to past toxic relationships. minor description of injury in beel’s. belphie’s is a bit sad (happy ending! just melancholic vibes) and alludes to chapter 16.

no problem nonnie! i hope this is to your liking <3

nowdateables: here!

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Lucifer

Honestly, he'd be a tough one to get to allow you to do anything for him. You know, the whole avatar of pride thing….and he also just generally has a habit of holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. He thinks - no, he knows he can handle everything on his own

If he's letting you in enough to help him - not only trusting you enough to think the tasks he delegates to you will be done to his liking, but allowing you to help and opening up the possibility that he might be risking his image of perfection - he can only expect you'll let him do the same for you. It's like your own special love language, right?

He does NOT like how jumpy you are about the subject. At first, he's miffed. Do you not think he can do the task to your liking? Has he given off the false impression that he cannot take any more work than he already has? Was your offer to help not based on affection, but pity??? It really ruffles his feathers.

He's the type to confront you head-on. At first, his voice is harsh because he's talked himself into thinking you've offended him, but when you start backing away and trying to dodge the conversation, apologies falling from your mouth about how the last thing you wanted to do was upset him, he softens. He doesn’t understand yet, but something is upsetting you and he intends to get to the bottom of it.

Not one who would pester you about opening up to him, but the sooner you do, the more of a show of good faith it is. He’ll trust your word entirely regardless, but it does a lot to soothe the upset of his own creation if you come back to explain sooner rather than later. After all, being vulnerable is perhaps Lucifer’s greatest show of love - it does not go unnoticed when you do the same.

Doing his best to talk through a solution is act of kindness #1 - and it helps you adjust a little since you worked with him rather than completely handed him the reins. He starts off his own plan to help you out by bringing in things he was already going to do for himself - offering you coffee when he gets his own, for example. He uses the fact that you’d feel bad for refusing against you for a little bit, but he means well!

You might notice him going softer on you for just a little bit - don’t say anything about it. He’s worried that he gave off the impression of using things against you because of how much of a disciplinarian he is. Besides, the two of you normally don’t get into arguments (he doesn’t have the time to let things simmer - if he’s that upset about something, he’ll try to address it immediately), so he doesn’t really know how else to change his behavior. He just hopes that allowing you the opportunity to open up to him again, should you need it, will alleviate the feeling that he’d ever use your kindness against you.

Mammon

The first time you stiffened up after he tried to help you, he thought you were crazy. Lucifer had just given you a punishment for one of his schemes that you took the fall for (and he still isn’t sure why Lucifer let you take the fall when it was obviously Not You), and you insisted that you could do it by yourself! He wasn’t too keen on cleaning every window in the House of Lamentation himself, so he left soon after placing the offer, but his time was spent mindlessly wondering about you.

The next time was shortly after, when you came into his room and crashed on his bed. He offered you a hand massage, although he did it in a very muttered voice with dark cheeks - and you said no again! Forget being offended that the romantic hand-holding idea he totally didn’t get from a magazine he was reading waiting for you (that would’ve somehow ended in disaster anyway) wouldn’t play out - he was getting worried.

He doesn’t bring anything up immediately, but he worries about you and watches you intently. Sometimes you’ll catch him staring at you, and he flips out when you ask him what’s up. The only clue Mammon gathers is that you don’t seem to be angry with him, so what’s up? He’s used to his backwards advances working against him, but he’s making a genuine effort here!

He finally gets pent up in his frustration and asks you head-on. Mammon isn’t known for his tact - “Oi, why won’t you just let me take over once in a while? Cut yerself a break, MC!” - but there’s a certain...desperate tinge to his voice that makes you realize he really does care (and is driving himself crazy trying to figure things out on his own). When you DO finally tell him, he sort of deflates and his voice goes to that softer, more genuine tone.

“H-hey, I would never do that kind of thing to ya…” He starts shuffling in place, kicking at rocks (if there are any) and you realize he kinda looks like a kid. “You do so much for everyone, and it makes me feel real good inside. I just wanna make you feel that, too. Besides, we don’t need TWO cranky workaholics in the house. Lucifer is plenty.”

He knows one moment of honesty isn’t going to fix your entire way of thinking, but he goes right back to his blatant offers after that. Maybe if he desensitizes you to it, you’ll feel less weird about accepting his help! It doesn’t work, so he shifts to little things. Catch him running across classrooms as soon as you’re dismissed so he can grab your textbooks to carry for you off the desk before you can. 

Once he realizes you’re more receptive to him helping you, he’s ready to breathe a sigh of relief and be annoying about it again. Generosity doesn’t come easy to him, okay? Besides, he’s The Great Mammon! You should’ve known he’d be better than any other guy you’ve been with!

Leviathan

Of COURSE you wouldn’t want someone like him to help you out. He’d probably mess it up, anyway…

Seriously, Leviathan is very sensitive to rejection, so the moment you politely decline any offers to help he backs up about a thousand miles and sulks when you’re not around. It’s hard for him to get out of his own head, and he’s so ready for you to just tell him what everybody else is thinking and how much he sucks…

It dawns on him, though, that you never gave up on him when he pushed you away. It’s totally not poggers sucky of him to just give up on you like that. You’re his henry! You’re his s/o! He’s totally ready to fight any boss for you!! …..after he levels up a little more.

Levi spends a TON of time looking up ways to talk to you, one-on-one. He isn’t good with emotions like this but he is capable of them and having deep, serious talks. It shouldn’t MATTER that his research material is a bunch of feel-good romance anime scenes that he based his most recent Top 10 OTPs of the season post on! 

Surprisingly enough, he brings it up relatively smoothly one night when you’re chilling in his room and he’s playing some relaxing simulator. You’re complaining about the things you have to do in the morning, and when there’s a lull in your conversation Leviathan turns and tentatively asks, “Hey...why don’t you try letting me help you out?” He can feel your refusal before it comes so he hurriedly adds “Please! I just- you stress yourself out so much and what good am I if I can’t even help you at all?”

Is it his impassioned plea for you to let him in? Is it his willingness to obviously step out of his comfort zone? Have your walls just conveniently crumbled at this moment? Whatever it is, you don’t have it in you to reject him when he’s so open about wanting to help you (and the pain it’s caused him not to). Either way, you sigh and give him a few, small tasks that you think you both could manage him having and he swears to do them well!!

Truly opening up to him about the reason why you were so hesitant on letting him help takes a while, and he doesn’t exactly pick up on it himself. Once you do tell him, though, in your journey to help yourself let him in, he holds you a little tighter and mumbles that he’ll never do that to you. Levi knows better than anyone that words can only mean so much, but he’s grateful for the chance to prove it to you. He won’t let his Henry down!

Satan

Satan is perceptive, and he knows how to talk about emotions. He might even have suspicious about the root cause before you even think about letting him know what’s up. He’s already started doing a few things for you - carrying each other’s books, for example. Small acts of kindness to get the both of you through the day.

However, one thing Satan isn’t good with…..is dealing with emotions head-on.

He spends so much time keeping his own under lock and key! After doing his best to keep the most calm, analytical front he can, Satan tends to uh….forget about the emotional part of emotions.

So. When he asks why you won’t let him reciprocate in the relationship, attempting to display that he just wants the two of you to be on equal ground and he is worried about you, he sort of comes off...as cold. And like he’s accusing you of feeling a certain way. He definitely presents it as “I’ve noticed you feel x and i think y would be helpful for us to fix it” rather than “how are you feeling? What is causing you trouble? How can i offer assistance in a way that translates well to you?” And if that doesn’t bring back some memories…

He feels awful, and at the end of it all you’re crying (or presenting your stress and bad memories however you normally do) and he still doesn’t know how to fix things. Counterintuitively, he looks through his books for an answer, and it takes him a few days to realize that’s what got him into this mess.

So he goes to you directly and, albeit a little clumsily, apologizes and asks what he can do to help you through this. You say that’s just the problem - you don’t want his help - and he sits next to you and just asks why? The two of you wind up talking for hours, sitting next to each other and just...really talking. You aren’t the only one feeling vulnerable - Satan is talking about his emotions full-on rather than through a scientific lens and it makes him just as nervous as you are.

Satan doesn’t get into arguments with you. He runs from the possibility because he’s worried about what his wrath could do to you. But he promises you that he could never hold anything against you, especially something like asking him for help. It’s an honor that you let him this close, and he can only return the favor in kind. He hopes you have enough faith to believe in him until he has the opportunity to prove it beyond a doubt.

Asmodeus

Asmo does things for people without asking. He gives unsolicited makeup and relationship advice, he offers to touch-up any products you may have on, he lends you clothes just because he felt like he should…

The thing is, Asmo will start before you even have a chance to ask him to stop. He’ll start before you’re even wondering if you like him. And at first, you’re ok with it. Well, you’re not, but you can decide he’s just testing the waters or that this is some weird demon way to earn your friendship or tell you he considers you a friendly presence, like cats. But it still rubs you the wrong way.

However, Asmo always notices that you...aren’t receiving it the way he wants you to. He invites you out and leaves you an outfit on your bed, and you come out wearing something entirely different. He leaves you a bouquet of flowers, and suddenly the dining room has a new bouquet in the center of it. (and you always avoid his gaze during those dinners, which is totally weird.) It’s almost like you’ve recognized the face he makes when he’s about to touch up your makeup, because you pull out a pocket mirror and check yourself over before he even has a chance to!

Are you leading him on? He doesn’t think so, but you are quite literally the only person he can’t literally charm the pants off of, and he isn’t quite sure how to navigate the signals you’re giving him. You seem fine with the relationship - it felt pretty genuine to him, and you looked thrilled when he made the romantic moves on you - so what was going on?

He finally caves and asks when he’s going through your wardrobe, sifting through it with you on the bed to make room for a shopping spree the two of you had been planning, and sees all the outfits he’d bought you hanging, still in their outfit bags. Some of the bags even had DUST on them!

He turns around and puts on a gentle voice. Though Asmo doesn’t know what’s happening, he can feel the air in the room shift and he knows he’s encroaching on some sensitive territory. “Hey, do you not like when I give you gifts? I haven’t been able to understand what’s been bothering you, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”

He does NOT like the way you turn your face away from him, but he sits a respectable distance away and keeps his hands in his lap. Asmo is as good at genuine advice as he is at gossip, so it isn’t hard for him to get you comfortable enough to open up to him. You don’t have to tell him everything at once - he’ll listen to whatever you’re willing to tell him, letting you lean against him when you’re ready.

Asmo is known for being petty, but you bring out sides of him nobody knew were there. He’ll swear up and down that he’d never turn your good heart against you - after all, it’s one of the many things he loves about you - but he does understand where you’d get that impression. If you’ll let him prove it to you, he will - and he’ll start by only pestering you to let him buy one outfit for you on that shopping spree!

Beelzebub

Listen. Beel is a generous soul (for a demon) ((to those he really loves)). He just doesn’t ever really find himself in possession of anything worth sharing. Really, the only thing he is ever in the possession of is food. When he isn’t at his sports practice, working out or studying, he’s eating, and he’ll gladly share his food with you.

Oh? You don’t want it? He gives you a confused look - he’d ask if you were feeling well if he hadn’t eaten lunch with you just an hour before - but shrugs, his growling stomach winning over his concern. It’s not like you’re skipping meals, anyway. It isn’t until you get hurt helping him work out and refuse to let him pick you up to carry you to medical attention that he gets VERY concerned.

He feels awful enough as is. It was his fault you were even there - he just wanted to add more weight to his workout. (And, he won’t admit it, the idea of using a bench you were sitting on to lift over his head may have been a bit overkill. But he saw that little spark that said ‘that isn’t possible but man i wish it was’ when you saw it happen in that show and mmmmmmaybe he wanted to impress you. How was he supposed to know Mammon had broken it and left it there?) He could practically feel the pain in your ankle from the sound it made, and you were clutching desperately to your shin, wanting to press on the wound but knowing it was a bad idea. MC, there’s no way you can walk on that, why aren’t you letting him help?

The guilty puppy face he’s giving you is making the whole situation worse. It’s taking everything you can not to snap on, from the overwhelming pain in your ankle to the negative thoughts racing in your head to the knowledge that you’ll have to give in eventually. Finally, you face him head on and decide to just rip the band-aid off. “I don’t have the best experience with letting people do things for me. If you’re expecting to use this against me, I’m going to be out of commission for a while, so remember that.”

He is. So confused. Are you really mad at him? What are you talking about? It’s not that he’s stupid - because really, he isn’t - this just kinda came at him from left field and he does not know what to do about.

“What? I’m worried about you, MC, and there’s no way you can walk on your ankle. Come on, please let me take you to get help. I won’t mention it ever again if that’s what will make you happy.”

So maybe it takes a while to get to the nearest infirmary, and maybe he’s going extra slow so as not to jostle our injury, and maybe in the meantime he’s being so contemplative and quiet that you have a heart-to-heart. Beel’s too genuine not to trust him when he swears he’d NEVER use your kindness against you, but he understands it’ll take a while to show you.

Belphegor

So. Um. This is awkward.

Belphie is a smartass, and he’s the youngest and used to getting his way. He’s definitely the type to dig his heels in and fight dirty in an argument, just because he’s used to winning. He’s also sadistic and has plotted with you to use his brothers’ weaknesses against them for fun. So he gets it. He totally gets why you would think he’d do it. Honestly, that’s basically what he did to free himself from the attic, only with more violence involved. He gets it.

Since Belphegor hasn’t exactly been the nicest to you in the past, he isn’t about to make you pity him with words like “yeah, of course you wouldn’t trust me after what I did to you…” First of all, on the off chance that it’s completely unrelated, he doesn’t want to put that idea in your head and give you a resentment you never had, but also he’s getting a hang of this redemption thing. Yes, on an average day he’s still a bratty, selfish little shit, but he does show you how sorry he is for using you and hurting you. It shows in the way he checks up on you in situations he knows you’re uncomfortable in, in the way he cares for you in that gentle way that’s so subtle you wonder if he’s even actively doing anything. (He is - offering you the best spot in a blanket nest, suggesting your favorite meals when the brother on dinner duty needs ideas, little things - and you both know it.) But how does he repent for something he doesn’t even know if he’s doing?

The way you stop cold when you peek in the kitchen and see him (and Beel) cooking the dinner you just complained about wanting hurts. The two of you have a stare-off for a moment, and Beel gets the message to slide out of the room. Belphegor clears his throat.

“What do you want?” You ask with narrowed eyes. Ouch, way to be a Lucifer. He instead says, “Nothing. I just wanted to do something nice for you.” “And you don’t want anything in return?” “Have I given off the impression that I would?”

You sigh and step into the kitchen to wash your hands, asking if he needs help since Beel left. He grabs your wrist. “You’re welcome to keep me company, but I want to do this for you.”

He doesn’t like you looking at him distrustfully, but is relieved you sit at the counter instead of leaving. He wants to ask you what’s up, but something is stopping him - he ignores that what’s stopping him is fear that you’ll have another thing to add onto the list of the unforgivable sins he’s committed. If you feel like telling him, he’ll listen - but until then, he’ll go back to quietly trying to prove his worth to you, hoping one day you’ll see that it’s genuine and let him give you all the good things you deserve.